Gospel Story Finder

That feeling has brought back to my memory the first day I walked into the Salt Lake Temple. I was a young man. My parents were my only companions that day. Inside, they paused for a moment to be greeted by a temple worker. I walked on ahead of them, alone for a moment.
I was greeted by a little white-haired lady in a beautiful white temple dress. She looked up at me and smiled and then said very softly, “Welcome to the temple, Brother Eyring.” I thought for a moment she was an angel because she knew my name. I had not realized that a small card with my name on it had been placed on the lapel of my suit coat.
I stepped past her and stopped. I looked up at a high white ceiling that made the room so light it seemed almost as if it were open to the sky. And in that moment, the thought came into my mind in these clear words: “I have been in this lighted place before.” But then immediately there came into my mind, not in my own voice, these words: “No, you have never been here before. You are remembering a moment before you were born. You were in a sacred place like this.”

President Gordon B. Hinckley tells of cleaning his house when he was a youth: “Most homes were heated with coal stoves. … As winter came to a close, black soot and grime were everywhere, both inside and outside of the house. There was a ritual through which we passed each year. … It was known as spring cleaning. …

“When all of it was done, and everything was back in place, the result was wonderful. The house was clean, our spirits renewed. The whole world looked better” (“Be Ye Clean,” Ensign, May 1996, 47).

Sister Christine Altieri joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints when she was ten years old. Although she did not marry a Church member, her husband, John, supported her in her beliefs. One by one their children were born: Corie (15), Lauren (13), Brittany (12), Michael (10), Chandler (7), Ty (5), Abigail (2), and Drew (11 months). Their family shared a lot of happiness and love. But one thing was missing: Dad had never joined the Church. He attended regularly and participated as fully as he could without being a member. But his family wanted him to become a member so that they could be sealed together as an eternal family.
Michael was going on eight. His dad had never had the opportunity to give a name and a priesthood blessing to or baptize any of his children. A few months before his birthday, Michael decided that, “All I want for my birthday is for Dad to baptize me.” Michael, his mother, brother, and sisters fasted and prayed harder than ever that their father would decide to join the Church and be able to baptize Michael.
Weeks passed, then months. “We kept praying and praying and praying,” Michael recalled. The week before he turned eight, his mother said, “It didn’t work. We need to talk to the branch president about your baptism and who will perform it.”
“But Mom, we’re praying, we’re praying.”
The next Sunday Brother Altieri volunteered to talk to the branch president about Michael getting baptized and to take care of all the details.
In sacrament meeting, the family was stunned with joy when the branch president announced an upcoming baptism—not Michael’s, but his father’s! The family’s prayers had been answered! Brother Altieri was baptized that week, and the following week, Michael’s dream was realized when his father baptized him. Michael said, “I had really wanted him to baptize me, and it finally happened. It felt really good.”

Before getting into bed, Karen and Katie knelt to pray. Karen soon finished and jumped back into bed. Katie was still praying.
Karen fluffed her pillow a few times and curled up under her nice warm quilt. Katie was still praying.
Karen closed her eyes. After a while, she opened her eyes again. Katie was still praying.
Karen adjusted her quilt again and snuggled in. Katie finally finished her prayer.
“What could you possibly be praying about for that long?” Karen asked.
“Well, I was thanking Heavenly Father for all He gave me today.”
Karen sat up. “Really? He gave you that much today?”
“Oh yes!”
“Like what?”
“Well,” Katie said, “when I woke up this morning, I opened the curtains, and the sun warmed my face. I was thankful for sunshine. I got dressed and rushed downstairs for breakfast. When we all knelt for family prayer, I thought, I’m so thankful to have a wonderful family!
“After breakfast, I went for a bike ride. I heard birds singing. I saw flowers of all colors and shapes. I saw the big shady trees up and down our street. I could smell the fresh air. I thought, I’m so thankful for this wonderful world!
“Then I saw my Primary teacher, Sister Smith, in her front yard. She waved and said hello. I felt blessed to have a nice Primary teacher who loves me and teaches me.
“When I got home, Brady was there to wag her tail while I petted her. I was thankful for Brady.
“Tonight at family home evening, Mom and Dad taught us more about Jesus Christ. I’m thankful for them. I’m most thankful for Jesus and all He’s done for me.”
“Wow!” Karen exclaimed. “I never realized how much there is to be thankful for.”
“There’s more,” Katie said. “When Mom reminded us to say our prayers, I was thankful for prayer itself. Not only can I talk to Heavenly Father any time and thank Him for all He’s given me, but I can ask for help with my problems.”
With that, Katie turned off the lamp and snuggled down in her bed.
Suddenly Karen turned the lamp back on.
“What’s wrong?” Katie asked.
“Nothing. I just need to say another prayer. I have a lot to thank Heavenly Father for, too.”
Katie closed her eyes tight and turned toward the wall. She had a feeling that Karen would be praying a long time.

I have been waiting for the ice-cream truck to come down my street for a long time. Finally, one Sunday I heard the music right by my house. I was so excited, and I ran to get my money to buy an ice-cream bar. My mom reminded me that it was the Sabbath day and that we do not shop on Sunday. We keep it holy. I asked the ice-cream man if he could come back to my street on a Saturday, and he said, “OK.” I felt good that I kept Sunday special.
Holden C., age 6, Arkansas, USA

However, some of my negative feelings still remained. I still felt like I wasn’t worth anything. Then I suddenly remembered a story my mom had told me. When I was three years old, my mom was woken up in the middle of the night by the Spirit whispering, “Go to Anna.” She ignored it and tried to go to sleep. Again she heard it, and again she ignored it. The third time it was even louder, so my mom got up and went into my room. She found me turning blue and having some form of a fit, like a seizure. She called an ambulance, and I was quickly sent to the hospital. The doctors took care of me and told my mom that if I had been left a little longer, I might not have survived.
When I think I have no worth or purpose on earth, I reflect on this story and the peace I felt from the Holy Ghost, and I realize that I’m worth so much to my Heavenly Father. Even though I don’t understand it all yet, I know that I have an important mission on earth. I am a daughter of God, and He truly loves me.

“What did you say?” I replied to my mother as she informed me of her plans to take the family to Nauvoo. I could already feel the Laman-and-Lemuel-like murmurings enter my heart. I even let a few of them slip. I complained about how I had to work and how unbelievably boring that town would be. But my wonderful mother persisted and tried to convince me that it would be “cool.”
A few months passed and it came time for our trip. We were in Nauvoo for only three days, but for those days I was filled with the Spirit. I was blessed to visit many sites of historical significance. I was even able to perform baptisms for the dead in the beautiful Nauvoo temple with my father, grandfather, and a few friends who were also there. Although the trip was going better than expected, it was still to hold more meaning for me.
Only one week before we left for Nauvoo, I received my patriarchal blessing. In it I was told that my testimony of the Restoration and of Joseph Smith would be strengthened. I thought little of it at the time and simply figured it would just happen over time.
On the final day we spent in Nauvoo, we went and visited Carthage Jail, where the Prophet Joseph and his brother Hyrum were killed. We walked the grounds and read many quotes from the Prophet, and I felt the Spirit very strongly. During our tour of the jail, I felt the Spirit even stronger. We ended up in the upstairs room where the mob broke in and killed Joseph and Hyrum in cold blood. As I sat there and learned of that great man and listened to the hymn “A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief,” the words of my patriarchal blessing, which I had received only 10 days before, entered my mind. I have never felt like I received such a blessing as my trip to Nauvoo was. It was amazing that barely one week had passed since my blessing, and I could already see it being fulfilled.
On my trip to Nauvoo I learned more about the Prophet Joseph Smith, the Restoration, and the early pioneers than I ever have at one time in my life. I already had a testimony of Joseph Smith and the Restoration before that trip, but afterwards I realized how small that testimony was. I knew before, but now I know with a greater surety that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God. He did restore the gospel to the earth. I also know that Heavenly Father loves each one of us and answers our prayers if we have faith in Him.

“At first, I never knew how to share the gospel with anyone or how to introduce the missionaries to my friends,” Eduarda explains. Eduarda is from Brazil and, while she isn’t surrounded by many members of the Church, she knows that “the Lord always prepares a way for His children to know the truth.”

Eduarda shared a Church video with a friend, who loved what he saw. When her friend grew more interested in the Church, Eduarda invited him to meet with the missionaries and used the missionary referral feature on the Church’s website. Eduarda added a comment saying that she wanted to participate in her friend’s gospel learning progress. The missionaries happily agreed. Eduarda even participated in the baptism.

Eduarda says she felt God’s love for His children in that moment. She also explains, “We all have someone who sees the Light of Christ in us. We just need to invite them to see what that light is!”

My newfound computing skills proved critical for the next leg of my career. In the early 1990s, I set up another first computer lab, this time at Aorere College in Papatoetoe, Auckland, New Zealand. My husband and I then spent our final working years running a small, Samoan-language newspaper in Auckland, where my job was to type up and lay out our publication for printing. Everything I did was on the computer, and every task relied on my ability to type.

One day while I was reading Saints: The Story of the Church of Jesus Christ in the Latter Days, I came across a remarkable story about a woman of the early Restoration. Eunice Franklin seemed to have my same questions and worries.
Eunice was baptized in New York by a missionary named Elijah Able. She had been truly converted to the gospel at her baptism. But then, after Elijah left for Canada to preach, Eunice began to doubt the gospel and what she had once known to be true. She began to wonder if Joseph Smith really was a prophet and if the Book of Mormon was true scripture. She lost many nights of sleep, thinking she may have been deceived.
The Lord showed Eunice’s struggle to Elijah in a dream, and he immediately returned to New York. When he knocked on her door, Eunice was stunned—she had been planning on telling him she no longer believed when she saw him again. Instead, she let him in. When Elijah invited her to his sermon that evening, she hesitated and didn’t want to go. But she eventually gave in and went to listen to what he had to say.
At his sermon, Elijah quoted 1 Peter 4:12, which says to “think it not strange concerning the fiery trial which is to try you.” The fiery trial that had sought to destroy Eunice’s faith could not succeed—as Eunice heard Elijah speak, her doubts melted away. Saints tells it this way: “The certainty she had once felt flooded back.”3
Eunice’s experience struck me, and I’ve reflected on it again and again. Just like Eunice, I learned from Elijah’s simple and powerful words. We should “think it not strange” to have questions about our faith. It’s completely OK. While truth may have once seemed to pour down from heaven, there may be later moments where we feel a spiritual drought. We might wonder if we ever truly felt the rain. With no answers or confirmations yet given, we can continue to pray for the rain of revelation. We can seek a witness to know that what was true yesterday is still true today. Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles taught: “If it was right when you prayed about it and trusted it and lived for it, it is right now. … Face your doubts. Master your fears.”4
By opening the door to her missionary friend again, even when she wondered why she should, Eunice reopened her heart. The Lord could again reach Eunice and help her feel a confirmation of all that she once knew. In a similar way, each of us can leave the door open to faith even when struggling with doubts. We can keep doing what’s right and seeking revelation—even when we’re unsure why exactly we’re doing it.
I know that as we keep our doors and hearts open to truth, God will help us feel what’s real and what’s not through the Holy Ghost. Our spiritual experiences will be undeniable in the moment. And every moment after that, when we feel doubts creeping back in, we can remind ourselves of how we felt. Just as it did for Eunice, our certainty about gospel truths can come flooding back.

The two eagles gulped altitude with their broad, golden wings until the cliff line was far below them. Then they closed their wings and dropped out of the sky, spinning downward at a wind-warping speed of almost 200 miles per hour. Just as the juniper and sagebrush rushed up to crush them, they spun the world on end with a flick of their seven-foot wings and shot upward again. Spiraling up on a thermal, they banked away from each other and were soon a valley apart. Then, pivoting in midair, they rushed together like two warring biplanes, their wingbeats cracking echoes off the cliff face. Just inches short of disaster they casually palmed the air aside and brushed feathers as they blasted past each other. They flashed together again, flipping on their backs and displaying their talons in mock combat. They soared and dived, playing the wind like a violin, spinning gravity like a yo-yo. One moment they were sailing ships, running with the breeze or tacking against it. The next they were jet fighters, dive-bombing their shadows. They were more free in their ocean of air than any fish in water or any man on land.
But one man on the land watched them—with his eyes hardly comprehending, with his camera clicking like a telegraph, and long afterward with a notebook and pencil, remembering. Kent Keller, of Orem, Utah, had seen golden eagle courtship flights before, but like any reasonable person, he could only fully believe it when he was seeing it.

It was Thursday night, Mom and Dad’s regular night to work at the Cardston temple. I was in my teens, like you young women. My grandmother, who was living with us, was away, so I would be home alone. As they left, Dad hugged me and said, “Now, Sharon, be in good company.”
I thought, “What is he thinking? Doesn’t he know I’ll be here by myself?” And then I realized—that is exactly what he was thinking.
Standing in holy places is all about being in good company, whether you are alone or with others. It’s being where the Holy Ghost is our companion—alone or in a crowd. When we determine within ourselves that we will control our thoughts and our actions and be the best we can possibly be, the best of life will come to us.

In the performance of our responsibilities, I have learned that when we heed a silent prompting and act upon it without delay, our Heavenly Father will guide our footsteps and bless our lives and the lives of others. I know of no experience more sweet or feeling more precious than to heed a prompting only to discover that the Lord has answered another person’s prayer through you.
Perhaps just one example will suffice. One day just over a year ago, after taking care of matters at the office, I felt a strong impression to visit an aged widow who was a patient at St. Joseph Villa here in Salt Lake City. I drove there directly.
When I went to her room, I found it empty. I asked an attendant concerning her whereabouts and was directed to a lounge area. There I found this sweet widow visiting with her sister and another friend. We had a pleasant conversation together.
As we were talking, a man came to the door of the room to obtain a can of soda water from the vending machine. He glanced at me and said, “Why, you are Tom Monson.”
“Yes,” I replied. “And you look like a Hemingway.” He acknowledged that he was Stephen Hemingway, the son of Alfred Eugene Hemingway, who had served as my counselor when I was a bishop many years ago and whom I called Gene. Stephen told me that his father was there in the same facility and was near death. He had been calling my name, and the family had wanted to contact me but had been unable to find a telephone number for me.
I excused myself immediately and went with Stephen up to the room of my former counselor, where others of his children were also gathered, his wife having passed away some years previous. The family members regarded my meeting Stephen in the lounge area as a response by our Heavenly Father to their great desire that I would see their father before he died and answer his call. I too felt that this was the case, for if Stephen had not entered the room in which I was visiting at precisely the time he did, I would not have known that Gene was even in that facility.
We gave a blessing to him. A spirit of peace prevailed. We had a lovely visit, after which I left.
The following morning a phone call revealed that Gene Hemingway had passed away—just 20 minutes after he had received the blessing from his son and me.
I expressed a silent prayer of thanks to Heavenly Father for His guiding influence which prompted my visit to St. Joseph Villa and led me to my dear friend Alfred Eugene Hemingway.
I like to think that Gene Hemingway’s thoughts that evening, as we basked in the Spirit’s glow, participated in humble prayer, and pronounced a priesthood blessing, echoed the words mentioned in the hymn “Master, the Tempest Is Raging,” which I cited at the beginning of my message:
Linger, O blessed Redeemer!
Leave me alone no more,
And with joy I shall make the blest harbor
And rest on the blissful shore.

Isn’t it too bad that it usually takes trials for us to learn to really appreciate others? I have always loved my family very much, but not until I became totally dependent on them did I realize how completely lost I would be without them.
In the fall of 1981 it was discovered that I have a disease called neurofibromatosis. This is the same disease that afflicted the Elephant Man. It causes benign tumors to grow, and it was found on my spinal cord and in my brain. Since the first tumors were discovered I have had three major operations, lost a great deal of my balance and coordination, had my lungs collapse three times, and had increased difficulties with digestion. Worst of all, the right side of my face and my vocal cords have become paralyzed, and I have become deaf.
How have I survived? Through the love and support of my family. I am 17 and the youngest of three children. I have a brother who is 21 and a sister who is 24.
Without my family I would never have survived, for they are my most faithful teachers, dearest friends, and treasured loved ones. When God placed me on this earth, he must have said, “That girl’s going to need a special family,” because he made sure to put me in the best one.

Colton slouched in a chair at the kitchen table. His arms were folded together tight, his mouth turned down in a frown.
“What’s the matter?” Mom asked.
Colton just frowned harder. The only sound was the ticking of the clock. He sighed. “Nothing.”
“Well,” Mom said, “if that nothing turns into something, let me know.”
Colton sighed again. “I’m just mad at myself.”
“Mad at yourself?”
Colton nodded. “Yeah. And I’m not going to look at myself in the mirror for a whole week, maybe two.” He pulled a little green car from his pocket.
“I ruined the car Dad gave me—the one he played with when he was little. It was on the floor, and I stepped on it. Now it’s all broken. It was so … dumb!”
Mom sat down next to Colton and reached for the broken car. “I’m so sorry. I know how much you loved this car. But you didn’t do it on purpose. It’s not your fault. It’s not anyone’s fault.”
“Well, I think it’s somebody’s fault—mine!” He held up a wheel that had fallen off his car. “I shouldn’t have left it on the floor! And I’m not going to get over it until I’m ready. And maybe not even then.”
“That’s a long time to stay mad at yourself,” Mom said. She thought for a minute, then stood up to grab a pencil and notepad from a drawer. She set them on the table. “Let’s make a list of things you like about yourself. I’ll write for you.”
“Do I have to?” Colton asked.
Mom nodded and tapped the notepad. Colton stared at the paper.
“Well,” he finally said, “I do take really good care of my frog.”
“Perfect. That’s one,” Mom started to write. “What else?”
Finally Mom and Colton had a whole list of good things about Colton. He smiled as Mom read the list out loud.
He’s kind to animals and takes good care of his frog, Jumpy.
He always talks with his grandpa when we visit him at the nursing home.
He tries to choose the right every day, even when it’s hard.
When he gets money, he saves some of it in his red elephant missionary bank, and he always pays his tithing.
He tries hard to keep his room clean without being asked.
He doesn’t always complain about having to eat green beans at dinner.
He doesn’t tease his little sister. Much.
“Can I go out and play now, Mom?” Colton asked when they were done reading the list.
Mom nodded. “Who are you going to go play with?”
Colton grinned. “With me. I kind of like me again.”
“I kind of like you too. Kind of a lot. And you know what, Heavenly Father and Jesus love you too!”
Colton hugged her. “Maybe next time I get mad at me, I’ll make another list. I can think of a bunch more things I like about myself.”

In 1952 I returned to San Diego, California, from a Korean campaign during which I had been baptized at the mission home in Tokyo, Japan. As a new convert I was sure that everyone, everywhere, was looking for the gospel of Jesus Christ, which I had found. I had it, and I was going to give it to them whether they wanted it or not.
I became a member of a car pool that operated between my home in Chula Vista, California, and North Island, where I worked. There were four other navy men in that car pool—all nonmembers. Three of them were lieutenants (which was also my rank), and one was an enlisted man, a first class ordinance man, whose name was George Whitehead. I was elated with the prospects of converting these four car pool mates. I was sure it would be a cinch. It was a 45-minute trip in each direction, and they couldn’t get out of the car—they had to listen. I decided I would convert these four, and then move into a new car pool and convert them, and then move to another. Why, I could convert a whole ward in no time at all!
I went to work on my four comrades. Three of them (the lieutenants) obviously never listened to a word I said, or if they did, you couldn’t tell it; my words were like so much water off a duck’s back. But the enlisted man, George Whitehead, he dared not turn me off. I could tell that George was interested; so when it was my turn to drive, I would take the lieutenants home first and then sit and preach to George in front of his house for an hour before I would let him out of the car.
I kept trying to commit George to come to church, but he resisted for a period of about four weeks. Finally, he agreed to attend with me and said his wife, Lucille, would also attend. I was so excited. I remember on the Saturday night before George and Lucille were to attend their first Mormon Sunday School, I went to the chapel, and I washed the back door of the chapel; it was the door I always used to enter the building. I enlisted the aid of a young man who thought I must be slightly psycho. He said, “Why are you washing the back door of the church? Nobody washes the back door of a church!” I assured him that I was washing the back door because it needed to be washed; and besides, tomorrow morning George and Lucille Whitehead were coming through this door. And everything must be perfect for them, so they would see the Lord’s church in its true light.
I presume that no one looks at the Church more critically than does a missionary who is bringing a contact for the first time. How important it is that all the babies be quiet and that the music be beautiful. It would also be nice if everyone sitting on the stand would stay awake, but I guess that is too much to expect.
George and Lucille came to Sunday School, and I was there to meet them. We had a great Sunday School class that day. (I was teaching the class.) George was obviously impressed. He looked for all the world like a sponge, soaking up every word. But his wife, Lucille, sitting beside him, looked like the Sphinx. I couldn’t tell if she had heard a word I had said. I was concerned. I could hardly wait to speak to her after the class.
As we walked out of the chapel, through that clean back door, I said, “Lucille, what did you think of that service this morning?” She said, without a smile, “I was born a Methodist, and I expect to die one.” At that time I had not heard LeGrand Richards’ story about the Englishman and the Scotsman, where the Englishman said, “I was born an Englishman, raised an Englishman, and expect to die an Englishman.” The Scotsman said, “Have ye no ambition?”
I could have used that retort, I presume; but instead I said, “Lucille, I promise you that to be a Latter-day Saint you will never have to give up anything true that you have learned as a Methodist. We have no quarrels with other churches or religious beliefs. We do not write tracts against other churches and we never will, because we are not in the business of tearing down other people’s faith, but, on the contrary, our purpose is to build it up. To our Protestant friends who believe that salvation is by ‘grace through faith’ we say, ‘We believe it too—does not the scripture declare, “… Without faith it is impossible to please him [God]”?’ (Heb. 1:6.) We just wish to add to their faith. So, to our Protestant friends we say, ‘Come let us share with you the fulness of the gospel of Jesus Christ. We will take no truth from you but will merely add certain works and priesthood authority to what you have.’”
This is essentially what I told Lucille that day. She made no further comment whatsoever. That episode took place in 1952.
In 1958 I was in Washington, D.C., still in the navy, and I received orders to go to the University of Southern California to attend a special course of instruction on aviation safety. While I was in Los Angeles, I was able to spend much time in the Los Angeles Temple. As I recall, I did the work for all of my grandparents and great grandparents. The women who acted as proxy for two of my grandmothers and my own mother (who had subsequently died not having accepted the gospel) was this same Lucille Whitehead who was, as she said, “born a Methodist and expected to die one.” She had not quite made it—in fact, she was ready for baptism just three weeks after she had made that statement to me that Sunday morning in San Diego, California. Why? Because the Holy Ghost had touched her heart, and she knew the gospel was true.
Surely the Lord moves in mysterious ways his wonders to perform. How could I know that sharing the gospel with a member of my car pool would result in making eternal life possible to my own mother?
There are so many things we don’t know, but our Heavenly Father knows. It behooves us to follow his directions to us, for surely we will be eternally blessed for so doing.

Joseph was always willing to help children in need. Once, in Nauvoo, Illinois, Margarette McIntire and her brother Wallace were walking home after a rainstorm. The ground had become very muddy, and the two children became stuck in the mud. Unable to get out, they began to cry. Soon, when they looked up, they saw the Prophet Joseph. He got them to higher ground, wiped the mud off their feet, and took out his handkerchief to wipe away their tears. He spoke kind words to them and sent them home with smiles on their faces.

Last summer we began our two-week vacation on a Monday morning. Ace insisted on coming home both of the following Saturdays in order to clean the building before Sunday. I was feeling rebellious at having to come back before our vacation was over. As I cleaned, I said to myself, “This is absolutely stupid. Nobody cares whether this place is clean or not. If they did care they wouldn’t throw trash around. Nobody will even notice that the work was done.”
All at once I felt as if someone was there with me. It seemed as though someone spoke to me and said, “I care. It is my house and I care! Suppose we had visitors tomorrow and the house was dirty? What would investigators think? I would be embarrassed.” I was really shaken. It was such a strong impression. Never again have I begrudged the time I have spent cleaning His house.

Sometimes Heavenly Father provides us an opportunity to avoid challenges—if we are willing to listen and learn. Elder M. Russell Ballard of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles once faced this very dilemma.

“Years ago when I was in business, I learned a very expensive lesson because I did not listen carefully to the counsel of my father, nor did I heed the promptings of the Spirit giving me guidance from my Heavenly Father. My father and I were in the automobile business, and the Ford Motor Company was looking for dealers to sell their new line of cars. Ford executives invited my father and me to a preview showing of what they thought would be a spectacularly successful product. When we saw the cars, my father, who had over 35 years’ experience in the business, cautioned me about becoming a dealer. However, the Ford sales personnel were very persuasive, and I chose to become Salt Lake City’s first—and actually last—Edsel dealer. And if you don’t know what an Edsel is, ask your grandpa. He will tell you that the Edsel was a spectacular failure.

“Now, there’s a powerful lesson for all of you in this experience. When you are willing to listen and learn, some of life’s most meaningful teachings come from those who have gone before you. They have walked where you are walking and have experienced many of the things you are experiencing. If you listen and respond to their counsel, they can help guide you toward choices that will be for your benefit and blessing and steer you away from decisions that can destroy you. As you look to your parents and others who have gone before you, you will find examples of faith, commitment, hard work, dedication, and sacrifice that you should strive to duplicate.”2

I returned from the mission field with many hopes regarding employment. Even though I had worked before, I had no qualifications, so I did what I could to find work, but I was never satisfied and could not see any progress in my future.
I always wanted to study, but I could not pay for schooling, and my family was not in a position to help me.
When the Perpetual Education Fund was started, I saw an opportunity to change my future. I relied upon my Heavenly Father to help me, and thus I chose a course of study with His inspiration.
I chose to study nursing. My schooling required a lot of study and dedication. But I became impassioned with nursing. Three months after graduating, I was able to find employment at one of the best hospitals in Alagoas, Brazil.
I have many plans for the future. I plan to take advanced studies in nursing, and I have started to pay back my loan so others can partake of the opportunity of receiving an education and the blessings that come with it.