Gospel Story Finder

The hours that followed were a blur—our phones constantly ringing with calls or pinging with texts from concerned friends and family, most of which we were unable to answer.
In the midst of it all, I felt an urgent need to call my aunt, whom I’ve probably called five times in my entire life. But every time I see her, she always seems to say something that my soul needs.
When she answered, I was surprised by her upbeat and confident response. “Noelle,” she said, “this is a miracle! You got out!” She continued, “This is only the first of many miracles. Watch and see what the Lord has in store for you. He will lead you to where you need to be.”
I wanted to believe my aunt—to believe in Him. But the grief was real, and the tears were many. The problems seemed too complex to solve, and our hearts seemed too broken to mend. There were times when I would crumble beneath the weight of trying to rebuild an entire life from scratch. I wondered quietly, and desperately, “Will He really lead us now? What will we do if He doesn’t come?” But during the weeks and months following the explosion, we watched in amazement as my aunt’s faithful prediction proved true, and our broken hearts were bound up again and again. I did not know that extreme grief and profound gratitude could co-exist.
My aunt promised, “Watch and see what the Lord has in store for you. He will lead you to where you need to be.”

I do not think we’re less grateful than other people—but we have so much more to be grateful for. This was driven home to me as a young man when my grandfather, who had been the bishop of a little country ward in Whitney, Idaho, told me about a visit made to his house by Elder Joseph F. Smith, who would later become President of the Church.
Grandfather said that they were seated in the living room/dining room combination of the farmhouse. The table was laden with good things to eat. The family was gathered around. Just before they were ready to start the meal, Elder Smith stretched his long arms over the table and turned to my grandfather and said, “Brother Benson, all this and the gospel too!” What did he mean? All this and the gospel too! The food represented the material blessings of life—food, clothing, and all the rest. This family of children—home, family, loved ones—all that the world has and the gospel too. I think that’s what the President had in mind.

On these cold winter mornings I am reminded of an early winter morning a number of years ago when one of my teenagers headed for the front door with his backpack slung over one shoulder. He was in an obvious hurry to get to the school bus. I noticed out the front window that snow was rapidly coming down and that my teenage son was about to step out into the dead of winter in a T-shirt, jeans, and Nikes—an outfit more in tune with a warm spring day.
“Where is your coat?” I asked, reacting in my typical fatherly manner.
“Dad, nobody wears coats!” was his simple reply. And with that, the front door swung open and off he went into the cold, snowy day with very little between himself and the elements. I continued watching through the front window as he tiptoed through the piling snow, trying to keep the slush from slipping down into his low-cut sneakers. I worried as he pushed his hands deeply into his pants pockets, trying to cover as much skin as possible with the single layer of cotton denim.
And then, there they were—all those brave teenagers standing at the corner waiting for the approaching yellow bus, and most without the needed winter coat. I knew the garment well. With its waterproof outer fabric; its sleek, smooth inner lining; and its thick, body heat–capturing interlining, it hung readily in the front closet of each of their homes. But apparently this generation had decided that while this garment offered needed warmth and protection, it would be an embarrassment to actually wear a winter coat to school. Does this sound familiar?

Let me, however, point out that before my teenager left that morning a bit unprepared for the weather, our family had helped prepare him in other, more important ways. It is a family tradition in our home for the entire family to get out of bed in support of whichever member of the family has to leave the house the earliest so that we can have family scriptures and prayer. Sometimes the practice is short, and maybe even hurried, but my wife and I, as parents, sense that a light jacket is better than no coat at all.

In regard to my teenager, I knew the importance of our family unit as a community of faith that would shield his infant testimony. As a couple, my wife and I had prayed that our example of faith would help strengthen his testimony as he grew more and more in the knowledge of the Son of God. We understood then, as we do now, that such growth is a lifelong process, and we hoped that every environment in which we allowed him to associate would offer the polis of faith he truly needed.

In a stake conference only a few days ago, I heard the tender story of an older man who had taken his 1974-model automobile to a garage for repairs. The projected work was more costly than he or the conscientious mechanic had contemplated, and the garage owner wondered if the elderly man really wanted to spend that much on such an old car.
Said the car owner, “Could you take a credit card that isn’t mine?”
“Whose is it?” asked the garage man.
“It is my daughter’s,” the man said. “She wants me to have my automobile in good, safe condition. It is the only thing I have.”
As the son of a father of whom I have no conscious memory, and as a father of loving children, I weep over that. There is no neighbor, after all, closer than the ones in our own families. And in this incident, knowing no more details, one does not get the impression of a casual check written on ample funds, but of a loving daughter very likely sacrificing to preserve the self-esteem and precarious independence of a cherished father.

Perhaps some of you can relate to a young friend I met while serving as president of a stake that included West Point Academy in the state of New York. He was a bright 4.0 student at the academy. He had been given leave from West Point to serve a mission and was readmitted on completion of his mission—not a common occurrence at West Point. On one of my visits to the West Point Branch he requested some time to talk.

As we talked he told me of how he had deepened his conversion to the gospel as he served his mission. He remembered the feelings and strength of his testimony as he returned to West Point following his mission.

Then he said: “In the two years since my mission I have gradually felt the Spirit slipping away from me. Every day I am associating with other cadets with different values. Their whole focus in life is successfully graduating from the academy. Periodically the honor code is compromised. Nearly every weekend is party time—alcohol and young women. I am hazed and ridiculed because I have refused to join with them.

“President Staheli, I need help. I feel like I am being tossed to and fro on the seas of life and I have lost my mooring. My gospel anchor of the past seems to be giving way to the life of fun and pleasures enjoyed by my colleagues at the academy.”

As we talked it became clear that the magnet of the adversary was gradually but surely drawing him into Satan’s grasp. My young friend had lost his mooring—not because Satan’s magnet had become stronger but because he had not been nurturing and tending to his testimony. He was in the process of losing what he had previously so deeply cherished.

My beloved brothers and sisters, it is very significant for me to follow Elder Boyd K. Packer this afternoon because just twenty-three years ago, his son Alan, then a missionary in Colombia, arrived with his companion to our home in Bogotá. That was our first contact with The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Today I want to pay tribute to the missionaries, their parents and supporters, and to the leaders and members of the Church who, with their love and patience, made it possible for my wife, Mary, and me to join the Church and who continue supporting us in the process of conversion.
At the time the missionaries came to teach us, I was going through some trials and had many sorrows and concerns, and I needed to make some important decisions in my life. However, at the beginning I was not aware that their message of the restoration of the gospel of Jesus Christ and of his Church was the answer and solution to my needs. I didn’t realize that those young messengers were sent to me by my Heavenly Father.
Now I understand his mercy because he sent to us his Begotten Son, Jesus Christ, who through the miracle of his atonement sacrificed his life for our salvation, broke the bands of death, defied the grave, and invited us to follow him.
Somehow it was not easy for them to start teaching us, but after many visits and discussions I was touched by the Spirit, and I agreed to be baptized, as well as my beloved wife. But I established some “don’ts” or conditions: don’t call me “brother,” I will not attend all the meetings, I don’t want to be assigned to pray nor to give talks in the meetings, I will not accept any callings, and never ask me to talk to my relatives or friends about the Church, and so forth.
I testify that conversion is a process. I am sure that the missionaries were praying and fasting for the change of my mind, because as soon as we started to attend the meetings, I began criticizing many temporal things at the meetinghouse, such as the crooked pictures on the walls. The branch president, a fine and wise man, appointed me as the “pictures supervisor,” this being my first calling in the Church. Incidentally, I have never seen that position in the handbooks, but it served me very well to start my involvement in the service of the Lord.
My advice to leaders, members, and new converts looking for retention and reactivation is to let every man and woman participate in the preparation of this world for the second coming of our Savior; receive with joy the callings and releases that come from the Lord through inspired leaders; be co-workers with God in “bring[ing] to pass the immortality and eternal life of man,” as we learn in Moses 1:39. We must be sure that all the people are having the opportunity to give of their time, talents, skills, and facilities to help others find the truth.
My first encounter with preaching the gospel was also exciting. In a park near my office in Bogotá, I saw a multitude, and since I had some time, I went down to see what was happening. My surprise was great when I saw the missionaries with displays about the Church and with copies of the Book of Mormon. They recognized me and asked me to stand in the middle of the park with a banner saying, “Be happy; be a Mormon.” I stood for a while in that place. I was a Mormon, but at that moment I was not so happy! But I started to feel better about my ability as a missionary, losing my fear to talk with people about the Church. I let go of my own restrictions—so many “don’ts”—and realized that this is the Church of love and service, of sacrifice and blessings, of happiness and eternal life. My message to the missionaries, to the people that are investigating the Church at this time, and to the members is, “Don’t give up; continue looking for the best results in this wonderful work.”
After our baptism, many relatives, including our parents, several brothers and sisters and their families, followed our example and joined the Church, serving in priesthood and auxiliary leadership positions, serving full-time missions, and performing ordinances of salvation and exaltation for our kindred dead and for ourselves.
Eighteen years ago my wife and I were sealed in eternal marriage in the Salt Lake Temple, and the following year we were sealed as a family with our daughters, Liana and Maritza, in the Los Angeles Temple. For all these things, I express my gratitude to my Heavenly Father and his Son, Jesus Christ.
I can say with President Harold B. Lee: “As you can see, one is converted when he sees with his eyes what he ought to see; when he hears with his ears what he ought to hear; and when he understands with his heart what he ought to understand. And what he ought to see, hear, and understand is truth—eternal truth—and then practice it. That is conversion” (Stand Ye in Holy Places [Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1974], p. 92).
President Ezra Taft Benson, at an area conference in Sweden in 1974, said: “It is not on the pinnacle of success and ease where men and women grow most. It is often down in the valley of heartache and disappointment and reverses where men and women grow into strong characters” (in Conference Report, Denmark, Finland, Norway, and Sweden Area Conference 1974, p. 70).
I know the meaning of repentance and forgiveness as part of the process of conversion through faith in our Lord Jesus Christ. I have partaken of the blessings stated in Moroni, chapter 6, verses 1 to 4:
“And now I speak concerning baptism. Behold, elders, priests, and teachers were baptized; and they were not baptized save they brought forth fruit meet that they were worthy of it.
“Neither did they receive any unto baptism save they came forth with a broken heart and a contrite spirit, and witnessed unto the church that they truly repented of all their sins.
“And none were received unto baptism save they took upon them the name of Christ, having a determination to serve him to the end.
“And after they had been received unto baptism, and were wrought upon and cleansed by the power of the Holy Ghost, they were numbered among the people of the church of Christ; and their names were taken, that they might be remembered and nourished by the good word of God, to keep them in the right way, to keep them continually watchful unto prayer, relying alone upon the merits of Christ, who was the author and the finisher of their faith.”
Brothers and sisters, I testify to you that God lives and loves us; that he sent to the world his Son, Jesus Christ, our Redeemer; that Joseph Smith is a prophet of God who was foreordained and raised up for the restoration of all things in this dispensation; that President Ezra Taft Benson is our living prophet, appointed by the Lord to guide us in the true Church, even The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints; and that the Book of Mormon and the Bible are testaments of Christ, the Messiah. That we may see, hear, and understand these things and practice them, I humbly pray in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Growing up in the small town of Aurora, Utah, I learned the power of prayer. We lived on a cattle and dairy farm, and our animals were essential to our livelihood. We knew each of them by name, and whenever one of them got sick, my father always prayed for it. Once when a cow named Old Blue became bloated with air in her stomach, my father knelt right there in the field and offered a prayer for her. Old Blue recovered.

When Lisa Berkle of the Whittier Third Ward, Whittier California Stake, saw that her school newspaper was doing a series on cults, she decided to take advantage of an opportunity to show the truth about the gospel. As a member of the journalism staff, she got permission to do an article on the subject “Is Mormonism a cult?”
The article was a popular one, and Lisa learned a lot researching it. She is now at Ricks College, and is preparing to serve a mission.

Elder Robert D. Hales poignantly illustrated this point in the following story:
We were newly married and had very little money. . . . I saw a beautiful dress in a store window and suggested to my wife that if she liked it, we would buy it. Mary went into the dressing room of the store. After a moment the salesclerk came out, brushed by me, and returned the dress to its place in the store window. As we left the store, I asked, “What happened?” She replied, “It was a beautiful dress, but we can’t afford it!” Those words went straight to my heart.
Elder Hales finished this story saying, “I have learned that the three most loving words are ‘I love you,’ and the four most caring words for those we love are ‘We can’t afford it.’”16

Soweto seminary students know the Lord helps them through the scriptures. Lucky Ndhiela knows his faith spared him a severe beating.
“One day our school teacher was very angry with our class,” says Lucky. “He said he had explained a science principle to us, and the other students said he had not. A still, small voice whispered in my ear, ‘You know it, Lucky—the teacher did teach us that.’
“So I raised my hand and said in front of the whole class, ‘You did teach us that.’ I felt so happy to say it.
“But the whole class shouted, ‘He did NOT!’ The teacher became very angry and started hitting them all, one by one. I sat near the back of the class, and while he was busy punishing the students in front, I bowed my head and began to pray.
“I remembered my scripture mastery, Proverbs 3:5–6 [Prov. 3:5–6], and said to myself, ‘Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.
“When the teacher came to my desk, his voice changed. His face changed. He said, ‘Lucky is praying to his God. I forgive him.’ He did not punish me, nor any others that day. That is how I know it is important to apply the scriptures in my life. My prayer was answered!”

Let me share two examples of discipleship in action. The first is from the life of President Thomas S. Monson, demonstrating the power of simple kindness and Jesus’s teaching, “He that is greatest among you shall be your servant.”26

Nearly 20 years ago, President Monson spoke in general conference about a 12-year-old young woman suffering from cancer. He told of her courage and the kindness of her friends to carry her up Mount Timpanogos in central Utah.

A few years ago I met Jami Palmer Brinton and heard the story from a different perspective—the perspective of what President Monson had done for her.

Jami met President Monson in March 1993, a day after being told that a mass above her right knee was a fast-growing bone cancer. With her father assisting, President Monson administered a priesthood blessing, promising, “Jesus will be on your right side and on your left side to buoy you up.”

“Upon leaving his office that day,” Jami said, “I unfastened a balloon tied to my wheelchair and gave it to him. ‘You’re the Best!’ it announced in bright letters.”

Through her chemotherapy treatments and limb-saving surgery, President Monson did not forget her. Jami said, “President Monson exemplified what it means to be a true disciple of Christ. [He] lifted me from sorrow to great and abiding hope.” Three years after their first meeting, Jami again sat in President Monson’s office. At the end of the meeting, he did something that Jami will never forget. So typical of President Monson’s thoughtfulness, he surprised her with the very same balloon that she had given to him three years before. “You’re the Best!” the balloon proclaimed. He had saved it, knowing she would return to his office when she was cured of cancer. Fourteen years after first meeting Jami, President Monson performed her marriage to Jason Brinton in the Salt Lake Temple.27

It started just a little over two years ago. Jason Hardman was ten then, and it was summer. The tulips along the main street of Elsinore, Utah, were only a bright blur of color to Jason as he streaked by them on his bike. He slowed and turned the corner at the post office and then, passing the Cash Store, he started pedaling even faster, moving up toward the town hall. He didn’t want to be late. The sidewalk ended, and he turned his bike onto the deserted street.
It was late in the day. The town was quiet. Nighthawks were sweeping the warm air above the streets for bugs. Jason rode his bike through the long-flung shadows into pools of light so bright and liquid he half expected to splash through them.
As in most small towns there is a kind of quiet eloquence to summer evenings in Elsinore. It’s a good place to be in summer. Just south of town in the thickets of mulberry bushes and Russian olives there are quail, pheasants, jackrabbits, and coyotes. In town there is a ball park, two rock shops, the Eat at Steve’s and Get Gas service station and cafe, and the Cash Store; but two years ago there was no library.
There was no place to check out books telling of pirate Long John Silver and his treasure or of the terrible Captain Ahab’s relentless pursuit of Moby Dick across wild seas. After you’d read all the good books you had at home, there was no place close by to get books to read late at night under warm and safe covers, solving the mysteries of Sherlock Holmes or Agatha Christie. Agatha Christie mysteries were Jason’s favorite.
The mayor leaned back in his chair. The other members of Elsinore’s town council were smiling as Jason stood in front of them.
“We need a library,” Jason said.
“Nope, not enough money.”
“No place to put it.”
“No one to run it.”
Jason told them they could put the library in one of the unused rooms in the town hall and that it wouldn’t cost much money. They could get people to donate the books. He also told them he would run it. They turned him down again, thinking he would just give up. They didn’t know Jason.
“I knew I could do it. I could get a library started,” Jason says. “I wasn’t about to give up.”
For months he kept asking and the mayor and council kept saying no, but finally either the mayor and the city council wore down or they became convinced Jason could get a library started. They gave him permission to use a room in the basement of the town hall. They offered him no money or assistance. If there was going to be a library, it would be up to Jason.
“Maybe he will look at the room we gave him and give up.”
The city hall was in a restored grade school and the basement was in bad shape. Jason, his family, and several friends had to scrub the floor with wire brushes. The walls and ceilings had to be thoroughly cleaned. Lights had to be found. Shelves had to be built.
“I couldn’t have done it without my family,” says Jason. “I couldn’t have built the bookshelves without my father’s help. I can’t run a power saw.”
After hundreds of hours of work, the room was ready. Now the library needed books.
“You can tackle almost any project you want to,” Jason says. “You just let your imagination go, and then you do it. No matter what happens, do not give up.”
Jason started looking for books. He went from door to door asking friends and neighbors if they had any old books they didn’t need. If it was too far for him to walk he called on the phone. Over 2,000 books were donated. The library opened.
That was when Jason almost gave up.
“I got very discouraged,” he recalls. “My hours were six to nine, and no one was coming in.”
It was winter then, and he didn’t need the library to get books for himself. He could check out books from his school library. He went to school in another town five miles from Elsinore.
“I wanted to quit, but my parents wouldn’t let me,” Jason says. “They said, ‘you started it; you stick with it.’ So I did. I spent a lot of time alone in there.”
Jason let his imagination go again. He knew if his library was to succeed he had to get more books, good books, books people would want to read. He called and wrote to anyone he could think of that might help. A few more books came in, but not enough. He wrote to politicians, to publishers, and even to other libraries.
Then a small newspaper in a neighboring town, the Richfield Reaper, ran an article about Jason and his library. The story was printed in the Salt Lake Tribune, and it was then picked up by the Associated Press. Jason became national news. Everyone wanted to know about the youngest librarian in the country. Articles about Jason and his library were published in dozens of national magazines. When he received a call from a man asking him if he wanted to appear on Johnny Carson’s “Tonight Show” he said, “Who is this really?”
Jason told his story on the “Tonight Show” and on several other television shows. He was also asked to testify before a congressional hearing on rural libraries. He told them of the need for libraries and of the problems he had getting his started. The committee members promised to help Jason in any way they could.
People from all over the country began donating books. Jason received up to a hundred books in one day for his library. With the publicity and the new books, more people are coming into Jason’s library. It has become quite a popular place.
What now?
Jason is sorting and indexing his books, writing thank-you notes to donors, and making plans to improve the library. He talks about getting a computer, better shelves, improving the genealogical section, building a ramp (it’s hard for older people to walk down the stairs), and even of a new building for the library.
A new building?
That’s a big project for a 12-year-old, but who knows, even the Elsinore town council takes Jason seriously now when he starts talking about wanting to do something.

Ten cents is for capital. Put it somewhere where you cannot access it or use it. This could be for 10, 15, or more years. When I think of these ten cents, I am reminded of my mother. She would sift through very good ground nuts and maize and put some aside for seeds. She would fumigate them—or so we were made to believe, so that we would not be tempted to roast that maize and eat those groundnuts when we were hungry. Mother never used the seeds, even in dire situations. She would rather have us go without than to eat those seeds. They were to be planted in the following rainy season and have them multiply. She would do the same in each harvest. She was never dependent on government handouts.7

The Domnic family of the Hyderabad Second Branch knows something about doors, too. The three daughters—Kavitha, 15; Hema, 16; and Smitha, 18—say education is a door to the future: “Whatever principle of intelligence we attain unto in this life, it will rise with us in the resurrection” (D&C 130:18). They talk about seminary as a part of their eternal education. It is a door that, through the scriptures, opens upon a path to the Savior. They also talk about how the Holy Ghost can open a door to the truth of all things (see Moroni 10:5).
But one of the most memorable doors for the Domnic daughters is the gospel door that opened eight years ago for their mother, Anu, and then, with patience and prayer, for their father, Julian Francis.
“When the missionaries taught me the gospel, I knew it was true,” Sister Domnic says. “I knew the Church was a place where I could bring my daughters to find safety from worldly things. I also had a strong feeling that my husband would join and that our whole family would be blessed.” But Julian Francis would have to stop some bad habits—smoking, drinking, and cheating people out of money as a rickshaw-taxi driver.
“I didn’t want my wife and daughters to learn about the gospel,” he says. “I told them that if they wanted to join a Christian church, just go to the one on our corner. Why did they want to go to the Mormon church all the way across town?” He also feared that if his wife and daughters changed religions, they would create ill will among the extended family.
But as the gospel door opened wide for his wife and daughters, he found his own questions becoming more and more sincere, and his own behavior improving. His wife and his two oldest daughters were baptized and confirmed, and he started taking missionary lessons seriously. He sold his rickshaw taxi and found other work. He quit drinking alcohol. But he struggled to stop smoking.
Then one day he found out the elders were fasting on his behalf. “I started crying. I couldn’t believe they thought it was worthwhile to fast for me. For me!” The missionaries challenged him to quit. “They gave me some gum and told me that when I felt like smoking, to chew gum instead. They said if I could be free for an hour, then I could go for another hour, then four hours, then eight. They kept coming each day, giving me gum and encouraging me. I kept wondering why they would take so much trouble just for me, but I finally quit smoking and decided I should be baptized. From there on I have lived a righteous life, and my family and I have received more and more blessings.”
“I am so grateful for the missionaries who came to our door, and to my parents for walking through the door that led us all to Christ,” says Hema. “Now our family can walk through chapel doors, through temple doors, and someday through whatever entrance takes us back to our Heavenly Father.” Hema, like the other youth in Hyderabad, knows that such blessings start by opening the door where the Savior is knocking.

My husband, Collin, and I became parents in October 2009. By the time our daughter, Eliza, was five months old, we started talking about when we would start including her in family home evening and scripture study. Was it worthwhile to hold family home evening when she was awake? Could she really get anything out of our reading the Book of Mormon out loud?
During the April 2010 general conference, Elder David A. Bednar of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles said, “Youth of all ages, even infants, can and do respond to the distinctive spirit of the Book of Mormon” (“Watching with All Perseverance,” Liahona and Ensign, May 2010, 40).
The changes we have made have been simple and gradual. We play a CD of Primary songs for Eliza regularly. We read a few verses from the Book of Mormon with her at dinnertime. We have started having family prayer just before Eliza goes to bed. On walks, I point out the birds and tell her, “Jesus made those birds for us.” She may not understand right now, but she will.
I’ve found that these things have lifted much of my anxiety for the future. I feel that if I do my part by teaching Eliza what she needs to know and by following prophetic counsel, she will be blessed in the future.

We so often read about the widow and her placing into treasury her mite—bitterly embarrassed as she did it, I suppose, for fear that it was such a little bit to be given. I once saw a widow come before the bishop at tithing settlement and say, “That is my full tithing: $55.00.” Her income, then, would have been $550 with which to pay her taxes, buy her food, take care of her phone and light and heat bills and make other contributions to the Church. When the fifty-five dollars for tithing was taken it left $495. With a sweet, humble attitude she said, “That’s all there was, bishop, but it is a full tithing.” We talk about poverty at the $4,500 income level, and now the $7,500 level; I am not certain that we understand. There are those who have poverty of the spirit; and there are those who are rich with the spirit, as this sweet sister whom I recollect.

That evening we realize my husband is almost out of pain medication. It’s Friday. Jacob has spent the afternoon shaking under a mound of blankets. If he runs out of medication over the weekend, what will we do?

By the time I figure out the right doctor to call (the doctor we had already seen that day), it’s almost 5:00 p.m. A medical assistant answers. He checks with the doctor and tells me, “If you can be here in 30 minutes, I’ll get you the prescription. Here’s my number. Call it when you get here. The doors may be locked.”

I herd our three-year-old daughter to the car, leaving Jacob in the bed and our 10-year-old son with a video game. We drive 25 more miles. The medical assistant gives me the prescription and talks me through the chemo symptoms. I know he must have waited for me.

It’s almost dinner time. I haven’t made any food. I still need to fill the prescription. My daughter is hungry and tired. But out over the valley, the sun breaks through the overcast sky, and a ray of light runs in a straight line to the place I’m headed for. I say a prayer of gratitude for the medical assistant who waited for me.

The woman who rings up the prescription remembers me. Another pharmacist gives my daughter a free sucker. I get a text message from my husband. Someone from the ward has brought us dinner.

I almost start crying. Not because I can’t do it anymore but because the assistant waited. Because dinner is at home. And because two pharmacists took time for me and my daughter. The fog and rain have lifted enough for me to see again. I know we are going to be all right. We’re being carried in the hands of the Lord.

The back windows of our home overlook a small flower garden and the woods which border a small stream. One wall of the house borders on the garden and is thickly covered with English ivy. Most years this ivy has been the nesting place for house finches. The nests in the vines are safe from foxes and raccoons and cats that are about.
One day there was a great commotion in the ivy. Desperate cries of distress came as 8 or 10 finches from the surrounding woods came to join in this cry of alarm. I soon saw the source of the commotion. A snake had slid partway down out of the ivy and hung in front of the window just long enough for me to pull it out. The middle part of the snake’s body had two bulges—clear evidence convicting it of taking two fledglings from the nest. Not in the 50 years we had lived in our home had we seen anything like that. It was a once-in-a-lifetime experience—or so we thought.
A few days later there was another commotion, this time in the vines covering our dog run. We heard the same cries of alarm, the gathering of the neighborhood finches. We knew what the predator was. A grandson climbed onto the run and pulled out another snake that was still holding on tightly to the mother bird it had caught in the nest and killed.
I said to myself, “What is going on? Is the Garden of Eden being invaded again?”
There came into my mind the warnings spoken by the prophets. We will not always be safe from the adversary’s influence, even within our own homes. We need to protect our nestlings.

In his autobiography, Parley P. Pratt told of his conversion and then of his compelling desire to share the gospel with others. Parley’s brother William, however, was more impressed by Parley’s material success and could not understand why he would give it all up to teach the gospel.

William asked Parley, “This is your all; you have toiled for years to obtain it, and why not now continue to enjoy it?”

Parley responded, “I see plainly you know but little of my circumstances—of the changes which have taken place with me since we parted five years ago, nor how vastly wealthy I have become within that time. Why, sir, I have bank bills enough, on the very best institutions in the world, to sustain myself and family while we live.”

Again William questioned, “Well, I should like to see some of them; I hope they are genuine.”

Parley replied, “There is no doubt of that. They are true bills and founded on capital that will never fail, though heaven and earth should pass away.”

Parley then unlocked his treasury and took out a large pocketbook full of promissory notes like the following: “Whosoever shall forsake father or mother, brethren or sisters, houses or lands, wife or children, for my sake and the gospel’s, shall receive an hundred fold in this life, and in the world to come life everlasting.” Parley explained to William that the words of Jesus Christ will not fail, and then he said, “I feel called upon by the Holy Ghost to forsake my house and home for the gospel’s sake; and I will do it, placing both feet firm on these promises with nothing else to rely upon.”

Still not fully convinced, William left to do his business, and Parley made preparations for a mission that would be lifelong. Parley was not “conformed to this world.” With all his heart he sought to both obtain and share those treasures that money cannot buy.

On a Monday evening not long ago, my wife, Lesa, and I stopped by the home of a young family in our neighborhood. While we were there, the family invited us to stay for family home evening, telling us their nine-year-old son had prepared the lesson. Of course we stayed!
Following the opening song, prayer, and family business, the nine-year-old began by reading an insightful question included in his handwritten lesson: “How does the Holy Ghost help you?” This question began a meaningful family discussion as everyone shared ideas and insights. I was impressed by our teacher’s lesson preparation and his very good question, which stirred in me over and over again.
Since then, I have continued to ask myself, “How does the Holy Ghost help you?”—a question especially relevant for Primary children turning eight and preparing for baptism and for those children who have recently been baptized and received the gift of the Holy Ghost. It is also relevant for the thousands of recent converts.