Gospel Story Finder

A four-year-old Brazilian girl, Mayara Fernanda Dos Santos, suffering from leukemia and with oxygen going into her nose from a tube, was blessed in 1996 by Elder Claudio Costa and myself in Curitiba, Brazil. After the blessing, little Mayara smilingly wiped a tear from her anxious mother’s cheek. Instinctively wise beyond her years, Mayara knows how to “comfort those that stand in need of comfort” (Mosiah 18:9), including her precious parents.

Illustration by Ben Simonsen
I felt the hot tears of anger slowly slide down my face. I wiped them away with my hand, but I could still feel the slightly salty taste on my lips as sobs of anguish began to pour out. I just wanted to hang out with my brother. Why couldn’t he be my friend, too?
Just a few hours before, I had stared at my older brother, Steve, in complete surprise, waiting for him to tell me that he was only joking. “Well, do you want to play?” Steve asked impatiently.
I gave myself a quick pinch to make sure I wasn’t dreaming, and then I voiced a timid, “Yeah, sure.” I still couldn’t believe that my brother had invited me to play a game with the “big kids”! After all, I’d been told for three years that I was still too young to play more difficult board games with my brother and his friends.
I went into the room where the older boys were setting up the board game. As the game started with everyone strategically placing their game pieces, I felt like I was dreaming. For the first time, I felt equal to my brother—not like I was just his tagalong.
The dream ended quickly, however. The game was tough, and my inexperience and lack of knowledge became painfully obvious as the other players quickly and soundly defeated me.
Losing so quickly was bad enough, but to make matters worse, the other guys started to make fun of me. I tried to continue playing even though they were being mean, but it was hard to hold back my tears of frustration. Unfortunately, one tear trickled down my cheek before I could wipe it away. My brother saw it and teased me too. I couldn’t take it anymore and ran to my room.
So there I was, crying by myself, wondering why my brother couldn’t just be my friend. I went to sleep that night feeling sad and alone.
The next morning I woke up still feeling worthless. I decided to get dressed and climb the hill behind our house to a secluded place where I could think and be alone. But when I got to the door of my bedroom, I noticed that a piece of paper had been slipped below my door. Unfolding it, I read:
Dear David,
I would like to ask for your forgiveness for the way I acted last night. I was more interested in winning than in helping you figure out the game. As it turned out, I did end up winning the game, but if you had been a few years older and had just a little more experience, you would have easily won. Next time we play, I’ll try to teach you a few pointers that might be helpful. Again, I ask for forgiveness and wish you better luck next time. You’re really an exceptional player for your age.
Love, Steve
True to his word, Steve did help me with some strategy ideas during the next game. He was also very careful not to hurt my feelings. In fact, I noticed that Steve began to take a greater interest in me. That’s not to say that he suddenly became my best friend, but he gave me more encouragement and became more willing to listen when I told him about things that were important to me.
Neither of us ever mentioned the letter or the change that occurred in our relationship. I guess it’s just one of those things that guys don’t talk about much. I kept Steve’s letter, but it wasn’t until I began reading the Old Testament that I understood why I had become so attached to it. I was struck by Genesis 4:9, which reads, “And the Lord said unto Cain, Where is Abel thy brother? And he said, I know not: Am I my brother’s keeper?”
I realized that my brother had been faced with the same question but had given a much different response from Cain. The letter is a wonderful reminder to me that I am blessed with a brother who answered, “Yes, I am my brother’s keeper.”

A few years ago, my son was getting ready to leave on his mission. He went through the Payson temple in August 2020—a time you will all recognize as being in the middle of the COVID-19 pandemic. At that time there was so much we didn’t know. We didn’t know how long the pandemic would last, we didn’t know when we would be able to resume normal lives, and we didn’t know who might be next to get sick. It was a time of uncertainty and distress for so many of us.

Because our visit was during the pandemic, we were only allowed a limited number of family members in the temple. It was a unique experience as we put on our masks and went inside. I didn’t see anyone else in the temple aside from the temple workers. It was as if we had the whole temple to ourselves. It was also the first time that all our children were able to be in the temple together with us. Words cannot describe the peace and comfort I felt to be surrounded by my family in the house of the Lord during a time of turbulence and uncertainty. The temple can be a place of peace in our most difficult times.

Also let us remember that through any illness or difficult challenge, there is still much in life to be hopeful about and grateful for. We are infinitely more than our limitations or our afflictions! Stephanie Clark Nielson and her family have been our friends for more than 30 years. On August 16, 2008, Stephanie and her husband, Christian, were in a plane crash and subsequent fire that scarred her so horrifically that only her painted toenails were recognizable when family members came to indentify the victims. There was almost no chance Stephanie could live. After three months in a sleep-induced coma, she awoke to see herself. With that, the psyche-scarring and horrendous depression came. Having four children under the age of seven, Stephanie did not want them to see her ever again. She felt it would be better not to live. “I thought it would be easier,” Stephanie once told me in my office, “if they just forgot about me and I quietly slipped out of their life.”

But to her eternal credit, and with the prayers of her husband, family, friends, four beautiful children, and a fifth born to the Nielsons just 18 months ago, Stephanie fought her way back from the abyss of self-destruction to be one of the most popular “mommy bloggers” in the nation, openly declaring to the four million who follow her blog that her “divine purpose” in life is to be a mom and to cherish every day she has been given on this beautiful earth.

Elder Ribeiro’s family joined the Church in 1978, when he was 11 years old. While his grandparents and mother were very religious people, his father’s beliefs remained a mystery. He had never spoken to his children about God. One day, when the family was enjoying a holiday in Lisboa, his father met the missionaries in the street. To the surprise of the family, he gave them their address. Since their address was hard to find, he said he didn’t think the missionaries would ever find them. Then one day they heard a knock at the door, and it was the missionaries.
Since his father was a man of honour, he allowed the church representatives to come in and teach the missionary lessons. After the first lesson, they gave him a Book of Mormon. During the second lesson, the missionaries felt inspired to invite him to be baptized. He accepted and the whole family joined the Church.

My mind wanders back to another year and very different circumstances. I visited a man in a hospital. He was in an iron lung, a type of therapy that is rarely used today. He had no control over his body from his chin down. We talked of the disease that had rendered him in that condition and of his occupation. He was an insurance man, dialing the telephone with his nose or with his tongue, explaining to people that he could not come into their homes or into their offices but that he would like them to visit him at his address, which was the hospital, so he could talk with them about perhaps saving a few dollars on their car or life insurance.

Most hung up on him before he even had a chance to deliver his message, but a few would come to the hospital and sit next to that remarkable man as he would look into a series of reflecting mirrors, analyzing their insurance policies and telling them of ways they could have more effective coverage. He had decided before disaster struck that he was going to do everything he could to be self-sustaining. Of course, the Church was helping him, and the state of Utah was providing some assistance, but so much of his self-care was being provided through the courage he was displaying then and had displayed earlier.

A true story from the Philippines.
Shia took a deep breath and tried to focus. She could do this. She let the shuttlecock drop from her hand, swung with her racket, and …
Plonk!
The shuttlecock hit the floor right in front of her toes.
Shia huffed and frowned. She missed. Again.
Dad jogged over from the side of the badminton court. “Good try! Maybe bend your wrist more next time you serve.”
“Serving is so hard!” Shia said. She looked over at the other court where her cousins, Analyn and Jovan, were playing. The shuttlecock flew over the net as they took turns hitting it with their rackets. They made it look easy!
Dad put a hand on her shoulder. “You’ll improve at badminton. It just takes some practice.”
“But I want to be good now,” Shia said.
Dad smiled. “Maybe your team practice tomorrow will go better.”
But the next day, team practice was not better. Shia missed the shuttlecock more times than she hit it. She couldn’t serve it over the net. And during break, she tripped and spilled water all over her uniform.
Layla, the team captain, pointed at her wet shirt and laughed. “You’re so clumsy, Shia!”
Shia felt her cheeks get hot. Then her coach called everyone over to the court.
“All right, everyone, the tournament is in just a few weeks. Everyone partner up!”
Analyn tapped Shia on the shoulder. “We can be partners. I’ll help you practice.”
Layla laughed. “Shia’s the weakest on the team! You’re never going to win if she’s your partner.”
Shia looked at her feet. Layla was right. She was the weakest on the team, and she wasn’t sure if she’d ever get better.
When Shia got home, Mom was making chicken adobo on the stove. Her baby brother, Tolome, was crying and holding Mom’s leg.
Mom looked relieved to see Shia. “Oh good, you’re home! Can you take Tolome and play with him while I finish dinner?”
Shia didn’t feel like playing right now. But Tolome looked so sad! Shia scooped him up. Tolome kept crying.
Shia set him on the floor and pulled out some craft paper from the cabinet. Quietly, she started folding an origami cat.
Tolome watched her, and slowly, he calmed down. Shia finished the cat and held it up. “Meow!”
Tolome giggled. Shia gave him the origami cat and started folding paper cranes, rabbits, and turtles for them to play with.
“What a good helper you are!”
Shia turned around and saw Mom smiling. “Thank you for helping me today. That was very Christlike of you,” Mom said.
“I’m glad I could help.” Shia looked at how happy Tolome was and felt warm inside. Even if she was terrible at serving the shuttlecock in badminton, maybe she could try really hard to be the best at serving her family.
Over the next few weeks, Shia tried to get better at serving—on the court and at home. She practiced every day after school on the badminton court. She helped Mom with Tolome after practice at home. And she prayed that Heavenly Father would help her prepare for her tournament.
When the day of the tournament came, Shia was so nervous! She and Analyn walked onto the court. Mom, Dad, and Tolome waved from the bleachers. When it was her turn to serve, Shia took a deep breath. She could do this.
Shia let the shuttlecock drop from her hand, swung with her racket, and …
Whack!
It went over the net! She heard Dad cheer. She did it!
Maybe serving wasn’t so hard after all.
Illustrations by Beatrice Costamagna. May be copied for Church use only.

My husband used to be the person in charge of distributing the Liahona throughout Peru each month. In his travels he would meet people who were not members of the Church working in security booths. When they would ask, “What are you carrying in your van?” his kind reply was, “Magazines of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints—magazines called the Liahona.”
They would often be intrigued and want to know more about it, and my husband always carried some extra copies that he gave away. He always went to the same places, so when he returned, he would ask them, “How did you like the magazine?” And if they said they had read it, he would get their names so the missionaries could go to their homes and teach them about the Church.
One day, years later, we were leaving the temple. What a surprise it was when my husband knew the person in the security booth. He had been baptized, and now he and his loved ones were preparing to be an eternal family.
Thank you, dear brothers and sisters, for writing such interesting articles. They help us all to progress, and everything we read in the magazine touches our hearts.
Ana Meza de Eulogio, Peru

Let me share with you a rather private but joyful example from my own experience.

As a bishop, I worried about any members who were inactive, not attending, not serving. Such was my thought one day as I drove down the street where Ben and Emily Fullmer lived. Aches and pains of advancing years caused them to withdraw from activity to the shelter of their home—isolated, detached, shut out from the mainstream of daily life and association. Ben and Emily had not been in our sacrament meeting for many years. Ben, a former bishop, would sit constantly in his front room reading and memorizing the New Testament.

I was en route from my uptown sales office to our plant on Industrial Road. For some reason I had driven down First West, a street which I never had traveled before to reach the destination of our plant. Then I felt the unmistakable prompting to park my car and visit Ben and Emily, even though I was on my way to a meeting. I did not heed the impression at first but drove on for two more blocks; however, when the impression came again, I returned to their home.

It was a sunny weekday afternoon. I approached the door to their home and knocked. I heard the tiny fox terrier dog bark at my approach. Emily welcomed me in. Upon seeing me, she exclaimed, “All day long I have waited for my phone to ring. It has been silent. I hoped the postman would deliver a letter. He brought only bills. Bishop, how did you know today is my birthday?”

I answered, “God knows, Emily, for He loves you.”

In the quiet of their living room, I said to Ben and Emily, “I really don’t know why I was directed here today, but I was. Our Heavenly Father knows. Let’s kneel in prayer and ask Him why.” This we did, and the answer came. As we arose from our knees, I said to Brother Fullmer, “Ben, would you come to priesthood meeting when we meet with all the priesthood and relate to our Aaronic Priesthood boys the story you once told me when I was a boy, how you and a group of boys were en route to the Jordan River to swim one Sunday, but you felt the Spirit direct you to attend Sunday School. And you did. One of the boys who failed to respond to that Spirit drowned that Sunday. Our boys would like to hear your testimony.”

“I’ll do it,” he responded.

I then said to Sister Fullmer, “Emily, I know you have a beautiful voice. My mother has told me so. Our ward conference is a few weeks away, and our choir will sing. Would you join the choir and attend our ward conference and perhaps sing a solo?”

“What will the number be?” she inquired.

“I don’t know,” I said, “but I’d like you to sing it.”

She sang. He spoke to the Aaronic Priesthood. Hearts were gladdened by the return to activity of Ben and Emily. They rarely missed a sacrament meeting from that day forward. The language of the Spirit had been spoken. It had been heard. It had been understood. Hearts were touched and souls saved. Ben and Emily Fullmer had come home.

Thank you for printing “The Joy Is in Becoming” in the June New Era. The message is truly inspired, and I believe it with all my heart. One thought the article expressed that I feel is really important is that we never know when we are going to run into a nonmember. When we do, it might be the only contact that person has ever had with a Latter-day Saint. It is so important that we always be prepared (dressed modestly and neatly) to represent the Church.
While in California a month ago, my girlfriend and I went to Disneyland. Not being used to such hot weather, we were very tempted to wear shorts and tank tops. But we talked to my friend’s father and decided that it was better to be hot than to disobey a commandment. We soon became very grateful for that decision.
While we were there we met two guys from Norway. We were the first Mormons they had met, and we were able to do some missionary work. I know we couldn’t have done it if we were dressed improperly. We knew we had made a wise decision when they said, “Mormons are very decent people.”
Kathy BarlowSalt Lake City, Utah

More than once that fateful morning, I was sure I was going to die. The combination of seeing all that blood—my blood—soaking into the trail and sensing the ferocity of the grizzly bear raging at me from every side with its teeth and claws left me feeling overwhelmed and hopeless.
What a dramatic contrast to a mere two hours earlier. I had blissfully set off on a backcountry trail run on one of the prettiest days I had seen that summer in the high country of western Wyoming, USA. The sky was a shade of neon cobalt blue, wildflowers covered the hillsides, and the morning air was crisp yet pleasant. It was a perfect day for a 15-mile (24 km) run in the mountains.
This was a classic training run. I was trying to build up my strength and endurance for a marathon just two months away. Runners increase strength by doing repeated short-distance runs. This builds endurance, which in turn toughens resilience.
Little did I know that I would soon need every drop of resilience and power I had because I would be in for the race of my life.
Looking back, I should have seen the signs. After all, the Lord tells us that He will “shew [us] things to come” through the power of the Holy Ghost (John 16:13). As Elder Gary E. Stevenson of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles has taught, “The Holy Ghost can help you by warning you in advance of physical and spiritual dangers.” And that He did.
Just a few minutes into my run, I glanced down and spotted something. My heart jumped when I saw the unmistakable outline of a bear track in the dirt in front of me. It was a clear warning. Foolishly, I rationalized that a bear had indeed passed this way but by now I would be safe. No need to worry, right? And so on I ran.
Less than an hour later, I crested a small rise and ran down a hill into a heavily wooded clearing. As I rounded a bend at the bottom of the hill, I heard a crashing sound so intense, so severe, that it made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I stopped instantly and slowly glanced to my left. Then I froze in terror. The sound, which I quickly identified as breaking branches, was coming at a high speed. Then I saw a sight I will never forget—a full-grown grizzly bear charging directly toward me!
I heard a crashing sound so intense, so severe, that it made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
The horrific attack that followed should have taken my life. This was obviously a very agitated bear, which I had surprised as I dropped into that clearing at a dead run. Yet that moment when I thought death was certain was followed by the sincerest prayer of my life. The intervening mercies of heaven then descended.
Inexplicably, the bear stopped his relentless attack and ran off into the woods. That was good news! The bad news was that I had 16 severe wounds from the bear’s teeth and claws and was alone in a forest, covered in blood, and 11 miles (18 km) from the nearest park road, with no help in sight.
I suddenly found myself at a major decision point of my life. If you haven’t had such a moment, be assured you will. Adversity is part of Heavenly Father’s plan. Fortunately, getting attacked by a bear isn’t—at least for most of us! But at some point, you may feel overwhelmed by whatever adversity you are facing. It’s a hopeless feeling that the Lord once vividly described as “the very jaws of hell” that “gape open the mouth wide after thee” (Doctrine and Covenants 122:7).
At these crises crossroads in your life, you have a decision to make. You can give up, lie down, and die; or you can somehow rally all your courage and strength and bravely fight on, trusting that if you will do your part, the Lord will do His. The Lord explained the purpose of life’s travails to Joseph Smith while he was imprisoned at Liberty Jail: “All these things shall give thee experience, and shall be for thy good” (Doctrine and Covenants 122:7).
And they do benefit you. They hone and refine you as you grow stronger and build resilience. This is why the Lord told Joseph—and tells you—to “hold on thy way” in the face of trials and adversity (Doctrine and Covenants 122:9). As you hold on in life—even if it is by your fingernails—you find even your meager strength is more than matched by the Lord’s. As promised, He is “mighty to save” (2 Nephi 31:19).
That is exactly what happened to me. Instead of giving up, I decided to get up. I was determined to live, which meant I needed to find help. Stumbling my way down the trail for more than a mile, I finally crossed paths with the only other people in the forest that day for miles. That miraculous meeting eventually led to a backcountry helicopter rescue, three life-saving surgeries, and a clearer understanding of the blessing of being determined to “hold on thy way.”
After crawling to a trail junction, Elder Dunn was rescued, had three life-saving surgeries, and recovered thanks to the faith and prayers of many, including his then–four-year-old daughter, Emi.
This experience has increased my power, determination, and faith. It also strengthened and prepared me to handle other challenges of life. I am certain that as you “[bear] all things, [believe] all things, [hope] all things, [endure] all things” (1 Corinthians 13:7), you will build the resilience and strength you need to face challenges. You will see the Lord’s hand making you equal to whatever comes your way—even if it is the very “jaws of hell.”

Relaxed in their shirtsleeves on a warm spring day in 1897, the McKay brothers, David O. and Thomas E., sat at a table in their rented cottage, reading their mail.
For David O., this was a time of triumphant climax in his college career and of great expectations for a new world to conquer. His hopes and spirits were high.
After three years in the university’s normal school, he felt ready to resume his chosen career as a teacher, a career he had interrupted to complete his own schooling. Before coming to the university, he had graduated from the Weber Stake Academy in Ogden, Utah, and had returned to his beloved Huntsville, as principal and teacher in the town’s little school.
A year of teaching whetted his appetite for more training, and he again became a student, enrolling at the university. In those three years of college, he displayed qualities that would help carry him to the pinnacle of leadership in the Church.
He was elected president of his class and played on the university’s football team.
A highly prized employment opportunity had been offered him in Salt Lake County, through the recommendation of the university’s teacher training director.
Most important of all, he had found the most wonderful girl in the world, Emma Ray Riggs, and she was willing to become Mrs. McKay. The future, indeed, seemed full of promise for David O. McKay.
Then he read the letter. In a moment, all his hopes seemed dashed. He was called to serve for two years in the British Mission. Swallowing disappointment, he accepted the call. It proved to be a marvelous time of spiritual growth.
He never regretted his decision. Teaching opportunities and Emma Ray awaited him on his return.

This is a question that my father taught me to carefully consider years ago. As I was growing up, my parents assigned me chores around the house and paid me an allowance for that work. I often used that money, a little over 50 cents a week, to go to the movies. Back then a movie ticket cost 25 cents for an 11-year-old. This left me with 25 cents to spend on candy bars, which cost 5 cents apiece. A movie with five candy bars! It couldn’t get much better than that.
All was well until I turned 12. Standing in line one afternoon, I realized that the ticket price for a 12-year-old was 35 cents, and that meant two less candy bars. Not quite prepared to make that sacrifice, I reasoned to myself, “You look the same as you did a week ago.” I then stepped up and asked for the 25-cent ticket. The cashier did not blink, and I bought my regular five candy bars instead of three.
Elated by my accomplishment, I later rushed home to tell my dad about my big coup. As I poured out the details, he said nothing. When I finished, he simply looked at me and said, “Son, would you sell your soul for a nickel?” His words pierced my 12-year-old heart. It is a lesson I have never forgotten.

“I was in a fast and testimony meeting only last Sunday. A 15- or 16-year-old boy stood before the congregation and said that he had decided to be baptized.

“Then one by one boys of the teachers quorum stepped to the microphone to express their love for him, to tell him that he was doing the right thing, and to assure him that they would stand with him and help him. It was a wonderful experience to hear those young men speak words of appreciation and encouragement to their friend. I am satisfied that all of those boys, including the one who was baptized last week, will go on missions.”7

The fourth story is told by Gemma Penafiel:
I was baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints on May 25, 1991. I was visiting my aunt in Laguna, and she encouraged me to let the missionaries teach me about the Church. . . . It is a very funny story how my two aunties joined the Church. They were sitting under a mango tree when two missionaries passed by. My auntie Cita, who is a very funny woman, told the two missionaries, . . . “Hey Jo, give us chocolate Jo.” When the two missionaries heard what she said, they stopped by and arranged the first visit with them. . . .

My daughter Pinky was two and one-half years old. . . .

Our home in Banago was very little, about 6**8* . . . with no furniture, but I was happy with that house because Pinky, my auntie, and I have a place to sleep. . . .

I looked for employment and found a job working in a bag factory, where I worked for two and one-half years earning 35 pesos a day [or the equivalent of $1.10]. The company I was working for moved to . . . Manila, and I did not want to move there. Pinky was too small for me to make the move. To support my family I began washing clothes for some of my neighbors. I could provide for our food, but if one of us should get sick I did not have enough money to buy the medicine.

One day I was invited to a birthday party in our ward, and the bishop introduced me to two missionary couples, the Broadbents and the Blackhams [former professors of chemistry here at Brigham Young University]. They knew that I knew how to make scripture cases, bags, wallets, and belts. They asked me to make some covers for the mission office in Bacolod. [They] gave me good advice, and I am grateful that I listened to them. . . .

The couples in the mission office helped me a lot, especially . . . Sister Broadbent. . . . You could see all the coin purses that I was making at the top of her table.[They] tried to help me find someone who would buy my products. . . .

. . .When I first joined the Church I started paying tithing at five pesos. I was jobless at the time, but now I am paying much more. When I pay my tithing and fast offerings I always pay a little extra because the Lord has been so good to me.

When the typhoon came in November 1995, we had much difficulty. Half of the roof blew off our house. In front of our house is my mother’s store. It is about 6**8* in size. The only roof that was left was over her store. We stayed inside the store the whole night. Ten persons, seven adults, and three kids and three dogs. . . . Our house was fixed with the help from friends and the Church. I was grateful for that. The Lord blessed me with many friends both American and Filipino. They have been an instrument of the Lord to help me. . . .

The scriptures tell us that if we live the commandments as we should, the Lord will bless us. He will provide the way. He is the only one who knows our needs in life and will help us to each reach our goals if we pay our tithes and fast offerings in the Church. . . . I know that the talents he has given to us we must exercise so that he will not take them from us. In all our dealings with others we must deal with honesty so that we can maintain our integrity. It is important that we do these things so that everywhere we go people will trust [us]. . . .

Each one of us is blessed with different skills, and it is up to us to improve it and share it with others if it is a good quality. . . .

My dream for my family is that we can be sealed in the temple for time and all eternity. . . . I would like to [find] a steady buyer for my products. I would like to send Pinky on a mission some day—that would be a fulfillment of my dreams, that and to let her finish her studies and to have enough food every day of our lives. . . . This is just a dream that I am relying on the Lord to bring to pass, because I believe that “with God all things are possible” (Matt. 19:26). . . .

I am very thankful to the Lord for the talent and all the things that he has given to me and to my family.

The day I received my mission call, I drove up to Gus’s gas station. I saw him standing by the cash register counting a wad of money. He scratched his beard and pulled back his long hair as he puffed a cigarette. He looked perturbed, as if he hadn’t made quite enough cash that day. I read his lips as he recounted the money and watched his mouth form numbers and then a four-letter word.
When the wheels of the Martian Mobile (my olive green, ’64 Ford Falcon) rolled over a black hose by the gas pumps, the customer bell rang. It startled poor Gus and caused him to swear again. He jumped when he realized it was me, spit the cigarette out, stamped on it, and crammed the money into the cash register. The entire reaction spanned a time lapse of two seconds.
I watched in amazement. I wasn’t supposed to know he smoked, swore, or worshipped money. What? Did he think I was born yesterday?
He walked out of the station office with his hands reaching into his pockets. He pulled out a tiny can of breath spray and sprayed it into his mouth.
“Hi Paul!” he greeted smiling innocently.
“Okay, ten bucks regular.” I pretended to be gruff. “And make it quick.”
His response came in the character of a southern hillbilly.
“We ain’t serving yer kind here, mister. Only transients, hippies, motorcycle gangs—if they ride Harley-Davidsons, that is—and other general public nuisances.”
I watched as he pumped 12 dollars worth of gasoline into my dilapidated car.
I handed him a ten and two one-dollar bills. He kept the ten and tossed the ones into my back seat. From the time I had started talking about a mission, he’d been giving me two extra dollars worth each time I got gas.
“I sho ’nuff ’preciate it,” he drawled, “but I ain’t receivin’ no charitee’ from some short-haired, prospective missionaree.”
I raised my eyebrow, then asked, “Even if that ‘missionaree’ received his call today?”
I held up the unopened envelope. It had just arrived in the mail from Church headquarters, and I had rushed over to tell Gus.
“You got it?” he squealed, forgetting the drawl. Then embarrassed by his own excitement, he calmly added, “So where are you going, Paul?”
“I haven’t opened it yet. That’s why I came.”
“Well hurry up!” he insisted.
We sat in two greasy chairs in the gas station’s office. He was honestly more anxious and nervous than I was. I patiently held the envelope up to the light, then obnoxiously passed it from hand to hand.
“Are you ready, Gus?” I teased.
“Just open the thing!” he snapped.
He reached for the drawer where he kept his cigarettes, but remembering I didn’t know he smoked, sat on his trembling hands. He crossed his legs, and the dangling foot began dancing anxiously.
My missionary papers had been submitted a month before. I thought Gus was going to have a nervous breakdown as we had waited out the month to see where I’d be going.
Gus’s mysterious excitement about my mission call was something else I wasn’t supposed to know about. One day I had overheard him yelling at the poor mailman about how slow the U.S. mail system was.
He’d lock up his gas station and come home every day at noon, when the mail came, to see if it had arrived yet. I really couldn’t understand why he cared so much.
I opened the envelope and slowly began reading. I stopped cold when I read the place.
“I’m staying in the States!”
“Well, at least it ain’t one of those Communist countries,” he sighed, speaking with the drawl again. “Ya won’t be thrown in jail or come back with some weird disease.”
“You are so strange,” I told him.
He just looked at me for a moment. He took a big breath, uncrossed his legs, settled his nervous feet on the floor, grasped the arms of the chair with his trembling hands, and spoke seriously, no drawl, his voice shaking a little.
“So you’re staying in the good old U.S. of A? Well that’s neat, little brother, that’s really neat.”
He stood and put forth his greasy, dirty hand. I went to shake it, then hesitated when I realized how grimy it was.
“Oh shake it, ya pansy,” he barked. “Don’t ya know missionaries have to shake hands all day?”
I hugged him. I just reached right up and put my arms around his thick neck and hugged him. I didn’t worry that his greasy overalls would stain my clean shirt. I was holding back tears, and I knew he was too.
“I’m gonna miss ya, Gus.”
He didn’t say anything.
Right then a beautiful blonde in a Corvette convertible drove over the black hose, and the customer bell rang again. He pushed me away. Macho men don’t hug their little brothers. When the girl asked who I was, Gus was embarrassed. I had to chuckle. He’s never been as tough as he thinks he is.
I left him romancing his customer. His charisma is what had made his gas station the “hang out” for most of the gorgeous blondes in town. He does indeed charm the ladies. I hope I have some of it when I’m ready to look for a wife.
I went straight home to tell my parents. They were pleased I had shared the experience first with Gus.
“You’ll reach him yet,” my Dad told me, and that made me feel really good.

Janalyn is one. Each year, for the Days of ’47 celebration in the state of Utah, three young women are selected to represent the descendants of the Mormon pioneers. Jana had received national recognition for her outstanding community service and was among the finalists. As she waited on stage for the final selection, she found herself repeating the Young Women theme in her mind. She could feel that peace in her heart. She thought, “I can stand as a witness of God—even here, at this time and in this place.” Her only desire was “to be at the right place at the right time to be the most help for the Lord to build his kingdom.” When it was announced that she had been selected, they asked her to say a few words. She took the microphone and, even though she knew that many in the audience were not Mormons, she bore her testimony. The audience became very quiet as she said, “I fasted. And last night I prayed and told the Lord I would represent him if I received this honor. I’m grateful for this calling to represent my pioneer heritage.”

Andy’s little sister, Trisha, had been born with many health problems. She needed extra help to do even the smallest thing. Trisha was 18 months old, but she couldn’t walk or sit up or even roll over. She couldn’t feed herself and had to eat through a tube.
Andy’s daddy, grandpa, and uncles had given Trisha many blessings, and Andy wanted to do something to help her too. He set a goal to help her do the things she couldn’t do for herself.
Every day Andy looked for ways to help Trisha. When he saw her trying to roll over, he gently helped her roll from her tummy to her back. When she struggled to sit up, Andy supported her.
One evening after Andy had helped Trisha sit up, Mommy and Daddy sat down to talk with him.
“We know you love Trisha very much and want to help her,” Mommy said. “But it’s important to let her become as independent as possible. That means we need to let her do the things she can by herself.”
“But Trisha can’t sit up by herself,” Andy said.
“She can’t sit all the way up,” Mommy said. “But she can pull herself up partway. We need to let her do that.”
Andy knew how hard Trisha struggled to pull herself up. He didn’t want her to have to work so hard. “Why can’t I help her?” he asked.
“When she tries to do things by herself, it helps her to grow stronger,” Mommy said. “I know it’s hard to watch her try so hard to do something. I want to help her too, and then I remember that Heavenly Father is always there to help and bless her.”
“Will Trisha be sick forever?” Andy asked.
“She’ll always have some problems,” Daddy said. “But we know that one day she’ll be resurrected with a healthy, whole body, and that she’ll be with our family forever.”
Andy knew that his parents had been sealed in the temple, and that he and Trisha were sealed to them.
Andy thought about what he could do for his little sister. He knew that Heavenly Father loved him and Trisha and that He listened to prayers. “I can pray for Trisha,” Andy said.
“That’s the best gift of all,” Mommy said, and gave him a big hug.

I might mention here an experience of a young couple, graduates of this university. This young lady and her husband (they had two children, a tiny girl and a baby two weeks old) graduated, as many of you will, and he had a business opportunity in Salt Lake City. So they moved to Salt Lake City.

They, of course, were active in the Church, and Bishop Bowles—it was in the Belvedere Ward—called them in the first week they were there. The bishop said, “We’re building a new building and we need all the help we can get. Are you willing to serve?” They both said they would. And he said, “Would you like to suggest where you’d like to serve?”

That’s a little unusual in the Church, but she was happy for that. She was a teacher. In fact, she taught here for a quarter or two. She said she’d like to teach. She’d like to teach in the Sunday School or in the MIA. So the following Sunday she was sustained as a second counselor in the presidency of the Relief Society! Now, she protested and used the word shocked, and this is a quote: “That organization is for my mother, not for me.” She said she had no experience, and I quote again, “And I have no desire to learn.”

Well, the bishop prevailed, as bishops will, and she answered the call. They held Relief Society in a dismal room in the basement of the chapel, because of the remodeling and construction. It was in the furnace room. While the furnace was on it was terrible, and when the furnace was off it was intolerable. Her children caught cold. On at least two occasions she went to the bishop and asked to be released. On both occasions the bishop said he’d think about it.

Finally, she was in a very serious automobile accident. After some period of treatment, she was recovering at home. Part of the injury was a terrible laceration of her face. This became infected and they called a doctor one Sunday night. He made some preparation for some further attention, but he said, “I think we can’t touch this surgically; it’s too close to the nerve in your face.” He gave her what attention he could and explained how grave the situation was.

It was as the doctor was leaving that late Sunday night when the bishop appeared at the door, after a long busy day, as Sundays will be for a bishop. He said, “I was just on my way home from some interviews and saw the light on and wondered if there was trouble here.” This woman, in her agony, when the bishop said, “Is there anything we can do for you?” answered from her pain and with tears, “Yes, Bishop. Now, will you release me from the Relief Society?” He said he would pray about it. And the answer came back: “Sister Spafford, I still don’t get the feeling that you should be released from the Relief Society.”

This great and lovely woman, who for many years has presided over our Relief Society in the Church, was tested in those early days of her life. I think that something like that can come to many of us, most of us, when we’re being tested, as it were.

Sitting at the computer desk, I deftly steered through the colorful world of the video game I was playing. My character was in a battleground, and I was on my way to reclaim a base that the enemy had just captured.
From the kitchen, I heard my mother’s voice. “Weren’t you going to clean up in here?”
I broke my concentration long enough to respond, “In a minute.” But a minute turned to 10, and then 30. When the match was finally over, I logged off, surprised that my mother hadn’t bothered me again. I shuffled into the kitchen, expecting to find a pile of dirty dishes waiting for me.
Instead I found the sink empty, the counters wiped clear—the whole kitchen spotless. I felt guilty, knowing that my mom had cleaned it herself when I failed to appear. But I shrugged it off, telling myself I would help Mom later, and went to bed.
I can’t recall if I ever made up for that broken promise, but I can remember similar instances when I chose a virtual world over the real. I played video games throughout adolescence but became very involved with a multiplayer online game from the age of 16 until I started college at 18. I devoted hundreds of hours to boosting my character and my virtual skill set. I spent less time with my family, opting to complete quests with my in-game friends instead.
And it wasn’t just the game; I spent hours online watching videos, checking blogs or social networks, often running across or choosing to view material that I knew was below my standards.
As my virtual stature grew, my spiritual strength was shriveling. I became desensitized to living in the real world. I didn’t feel good about myself, and my priorities became unfocused. The virtual world had a grip on me, and I wouldn’t force myself to get real. I could sense the weakness within me but was unwilling to stop spending “money for that which is of no worth, [and my] labor for that which cannot satisfy” (2 Nephi 9:51).
I wish I could say that I eventually came to my senses and threw the game out, realizing how much of my time it wasted. Sadly, this was not the case. I stopped playing only because the Internet filter at my college dorms blocked it.
But I saw this as a chance to change. As I started my first semester, my focus shifted from building up my virtual character to realizing my true potential. Without the fantasy world distracting me, I tuned back in to the Spirit as it spoke to me of “things as they really are, and of things as they really will be” (Jacob 4:13).
In the six months or so that followed, I had the time and focus to do some incredible things. Instead of spending hours acquiring better armor, I studied my scriptures and learned to put on the armor of God (see Ephesians 6:10–17). Instead of honing skills that did me no good outside of a video game, I unearthed practical talents that allowed me to better serve others (see Matthew 25:14–29). I magnified Church callings, studied hard, and earned grades I felt good about. I made many new friends and (gasp!) even dated some.
Sometimes I missed that animated world, the competition and challenges, the in-game experience, the online friends I had made and played with. But as I thought about the changes I had seen in my life and myself, I knew I was fuller, happier, and more at peace with the things giving up the game had allowed me to gain.
When I later listened to Elder David A. Bednar give his fireside address “Things as They Really Are,” I thought back to that moment in the kitchen and other times I had disconnected from things as they really are. I had nothing of value to show for the time spent passively plugged in or logged on. What if? I asked myself. What if I had spent more time practicing musical instruments instead? or helping my mom? or laughing with my younger sister? I regretted wasting so much time.