Gospel Story Finder

Photographs courtesy of the Lewis family and by Richard M. Romney and Donal Pearce
Blake Lewis, 17, was among the leaders at the Utah 6A state high school cross-country championships, and his best friend and teammate, Sean Rausch, 18, was right behind him. “Our team, Riverton, had never won state before, and we were going for it,” Sean says.
The race was intense, but Riverton was doing well. With only 200 meters (220 yards) left in the three-mile race, the first runners were about to leave the hills and grass behind, make a sharp turn, and enter the stadium where they would sprint to the finish.
Then, Blake fell. Not from a trip or a stumble. He collapsed. The tibia bone in his lower leg had snapped.
“I came around a corner and saw Blake lying on the ground, holding his leg and screaming in pain,” Sean remembers.
Even though Sean was a senior and this was his last chance to race at state, he didn’t hesitate. “I had no thought of leaving Blake and just finishing the race,” he says. “He wanted to finish and so did I, and I was ready to help him the whole way. So, I put him on my back and carried him to the finish line.”
Two hundred meters is a long way to carry somebody that’s your same height and weight. “I wanted to comfort him,” Sean says. “So, I kept reminding him of the years we’d been running together, of the 1,250 miles (2,012 km) we’d run together over the summer.”
In between Blake’s groans, Sean kept repeating, “We’re a team, and we’re a family.” An official rushed up to tell them giving assistance to another runner wasn’t allowed, but Sean said it didn’t matter. “We’re in this together,” he said, “and we’re going to finish it together.” The official disqualified them both, but allowed them to continue.
At the end of their ordeal, Sean gently set Blake down so that he could step—actually, hop—over the finish line. Then Blake, with help, climbed into an ambulance.
The Riverton men’s team took third place as a team, but they didn’t celebrate. Instead, they kneeled and prayed for Blake. And when the women’s team found out about Blake, they did the same.
“I was in the hospital when I heard they had prayed for me,” Blake said. “That was so emotional, that my teammates would do that for me.”
“We prayed that Blake would be all right, and that nothing too serious would result,” Sean says. And he believes the prayer was answered. “The doctor said the injury could have been a lot worse if Blake had tried to finish the race on his own.”
“And the doctor told my mom it was a miracle that it was a clean break, lined up so straight that no surgery was necessary,” Blake says. “Otherwise they would have placed a metal rod in my leg, and running would have become painful.”
Websites, TV stations, and newspapers across the USA featured accounts of Sean carrying Blake to the finish line. A social media video went viral, and the story popped up in Asia, Australia, South America, and Europe.
“I think our story became popular because people like to be reminded there’s still good in the world,” Blake says. Sean agrees: “It’s nice to see that a simple act of kindness can touch so many lives.”
The local community also celebrated Sean’s good deed. At Riverton’s annual Veteran’s Day celebration, which features a 5K and a one-mile run, Sean was recognized as a “local hero,” and Blake was invited to sound the horn to start the race.
In a short speech, Sean said, “I’m not a hero. I was just taking care of my brother.”
Both young men feel their experience reinforced gospel principles to them.
“We all have hardships in our lives,” Blake says. “But just like Sean was there for me, the Savior is there for us. If we let Him, He’ll pick us up and help us finish.”
“If any one of us on the team went down,” Sean says, “the rest of the team would be there for him.” The same is true for his priesthood quorum. “We’re always there as a team, serving together. For Mutual, Church meetings, sacrament, and any service that anybody needs, we’re always trying to help and support each other.”
“When we run, we always set goals, then train to meet those goals,” Blake said. “If you don’t train, you’re not going to get better. Our ultimate eternal goal is to have eternal life and to return to our Heavenly Father. So, we have spiritual goals, and we train through prayer, scripture study, service, staying worthy, repentance—so that we can make it to the spiritual finish line.”

Countless are the acts of service provided by the vast army of Relief Society visiting teachers. A few years ago I heard of two of them who aided a grieving widow, Angela, the granddaughter of a cousin of mine. Angela’s husband and a friend of his had gone snowmobiling and had become victims of suffocation through a snowslide. Each of them left a pregnant wife—in Angela’s case, their first child, and in the other case, a wife not only expecting a child but also the mother of a toddler. In the funeral held for Angela’s husband, the bishop reported that upon hearing of the tragic accident, he had gone immediately to Angela’s home. Almost as soon as he arrived, the doorbell sounded. The door was opened, and there stood Angela’s two visiting teachers. The bishop said he watched as they so sincerely expressed to Angela their love and compassion. The three women cried together, and it was apparent that these two fine visiting teachers cared deeply about Angela. As perhaps only women can, they gently indicated—without being asked—exactly what help they would be providing. That they would be close by as long as Angela needed them was obvious. The bishop expressed his deep gratitude in knowing they would be a real source of comfort to her in the days ahead.

Once, when Joseph was arrested while conducting a confirmation service, Brother Knight hired two farmer neighbors versed in the law, who successfully defended the Prophet and gained his release from jail. As a result of Joseph Knight’s kindness to the Prophet, Knight’s anti-Mormon neighbors vandalized his property while he was away. One account states that they sank some of his wagons in water, overturned others, and threw chains into the millstream. Brother Knight’s response was that, even so, the house was filled with the Holy Ghost upon their return, and they were grateful to have the Prophet with them.

The crowd seemed to calm down suddenly and every person stopped talking as if on cue. They focused their attention on the floor because they recognized that same girl—the one they had noticed earlier in the balance beam competition. This time she was swinging in ever higher circles around the uneven parallel bars, but she could have been just turning somersaults and they still would have noticed.
The girl on the floor was Diane Ellingson, a typical-looking gymnast with a tiny frame and a blonde ponytail. But her looks were the only thing typical about her, and the crowd could always sense that.
Maybe they noticed her because of the saucy way she held her pirouettes during her floor routine. It could have been the spectacular twists and turns she executed when she flipped from the uneven parallel bars. It might have been her effortless leaps over the vault, but above all that, it was probably her genuine love for the crowd. They could feel it when she flashed them that one-of-a-kind smile at the end of a perfect routine.
Of course, even when her performance wasn’t quite so perfect there was still something about that infectious smile. Even when she landed in a belly flop on national television after a routine, she smiled and waved to the crowd until they applauded. In a meet on her 18th birthday she told the judges it was her birthday so they would ask the crowd to sing “Happy Birthday” to her. “I wasn’t embarrassed,” says Diane. “I would’ve let them sing it twice just for the attention.”
Her love of the audience was a carryover from childhood. Once when she was nine or ten she didn’t come home from school when she was supposed to, so her father went looking for her. He found her in the center of a circle of children, entertaining them with her tumbling tricks, not for the glory, just for fun.
Diane’s sister Marie laughs at the memory of Diane as a child performer. “If you ever see our family movies, she’s always out in front. She was just always a show-off. Dad would be taking a picture of someone else and Diane would get in the picture somehow.”
That desire to perform fit perfectly into gymnastics, another of Diane’s lifelong loves. It was tough to convince her parents that gymnastics was a good thing for her, and even then she had to do something more.
“Our family had seven kids and couldn’t afford to pay for Diane to have lessons. She went down to the gym herself and told the coach that she’d do anything for them. So after workouts she’d clean the gym—vacuuming mats, cleaning bathrooms, whatever, to pay for her lessons,” says Marie.
Diane’s love of the spotlight was quickly matched by her gymnastic ability, and the two made a championship combination. She started training when she was 14 1/2, a late start by competitive standards, but within a year she was competing against the best in the country. She was the Junior Olympic National Champion in high school, and in college she led the University of Utah’s women’s gymnastics team to their first national collegiate title.
After her eligibility for college competition was up, she decided to go on a national professional tour. It was a tour that involved Kurt Thomas and other well-known gymnasts, and Diane would get paid $5,000 just to go. She says she knew her gymnastics career was mostly over, but she just wanted to hold on to the thrill of the spotlight and the fun of the sport for as long as she could.
During training for the tour Diane was practicing a vault she’d done thousands of times. She ran toward the vault just like she had done every other time. She jumped on the springboard like all the other times and flew into the air—just like all the other times. This time was different though. This time she rotated just a little too much. This time when she landed, she broke her neck. The accident put her in the hospital for almost half a year and in a wheelchair for the rest of her life.
That was on December 15, 1981. Diane spent that Christmas and the next five months in the hospital, trying to comprehend a life without gymnastics. After so many years of loving the sport, it was difficult for Diane to adjust.
“I hated being in the hospital, and I felt like I was in prison,” says Diane. For one month of the five she was in the hospital, she was in traction and couldn’t move at all except when the nurses came in and turned her a few inches every two hours. Diane had no idea she’d be in the hospital for so long. “In fact, when I was first injured I thought for sure that in a month I’d be back on the tour and back in shape. I thought, ‘If I have enough faith and believe in God and in myself, I’ll be okay.’ And I just knew it.”
Recovery wasn’t quite so easy though, and things seemed to get worse. “I was a horrible patient,” says Diane. “In the hospital I was really miserable because I was so stir-crazy. I was really impatient with people.” Finally Diane came to a turning point.
“Near the end of my traction one day I was in the depths of despair. I just felt like I couldn’t bear it anymore,” Diane says. She asked for a blessing. She knew the power to heal her was present, “but I only wanted that to happen if it was Heavenly Father’s will. I had this blessing and I felt the greatest sense of peace. It was like I knew that no matter what happened it would be okay. If I didn’t walk away from the hospital there would be a reason for it. I knew that I had always tried my best to live the gospel and do what I was supposed to do, so if anybody was worthy to have that blessing, I was. But from that point on I was a different person. I was totally comforted.”
Ironically, one of the biggest aids to her recovery was gymnastics. “I don’t know if I could’ve gotten up again if I hadn’t had that training in gymnastics,” she says. “I had a lot of chronic injuries when I was a gymnast that I just had to deal with. It was always down, up, down, up in gymnastics and this was just one more down I had to get up from. Gymnastics to a big degree made me so I could be a champion again.”
Being a champion is what Diane is all about. Marie says, “Her attitude’s always been, ‘If you want it, go for it.’ She decided when she was young that she would never give up.” And since Diane wanted to teach before her accident, she couldn’t just give that up, no matter what the odds.
Diane made the decision to return to school to finish her degree on the day she finally realized she would never walk again. She was lying on her bed amid scrapbooks filled with souvenirs and photos of her performances. Tears dripped down her face and splashed on the scrapbook pages. “I just realized right then that things weren’t going to get any better. As I lay there crying I thought, ‘I can either give up or get on with my life’ and that’s when I decided to go back to school and get my degree.”
Now she teaches a class full of third graders who are just the right height to look her in the eye. “The kids will do anything for her,” says Marie. “They just love her.”
Her students aren’t her only fans. Diane also gives fireside talks to teenagers who listen, captivated, as she tells her story. And her message is one of hope and perseverance, without bitterness for what has happened.
Her personality hasn’t changed at all, although she doesn’t wear her hair in a ponytail anymore. Just listen to her speak and you’ll see the exuberant, happy girl who used to charm arenas full of people. Now her charm is just aimed at another audience. Her voice seems to smile at every person in the room and her ready laugh frequently interrupts her stories.
“I think telling my gymnastics stories and sharing my experiences kind of breaks the wheelchair barrier. The kids can see that I’m just a regular person and we have a lot in common, even though I look a lot different than they do,” Diane says.
Her main message is one for potential champions: don’t give up, no matter what happens. “When I was a young gymnast I met a girl, an athlete named Nancy Thies. Nancy was a member of the U.S. Olympic team and one of the finest gymnasts in the country. I have never forgotten some very important things that Nancy taught me. I remember the first thing she said was, ‘Don’t be afraid to lose. She said, ‘If you fall down and you stay down, you’re a quitter and a loser and you will never win. But if you get back up and you try one more time, it will be your turn to be the champion, so just don’t give up.’” Diane says she made a promise to herself that she would remember that advice and never give up, no matter how many times she fell.
Once she faced the hardest fall of her life, not giving up was difficult, especially because of her wheelchair. The whole time she was in gymnastics, whether she was swinging high above the uneven parallel bars or just doing handstands for fun, she was only afraid of being blind or paralyzed. “I was so paranoid of wheelchairs that I would never talk to anybody in a wheelchair or go near a wheelchair. In stores, if somebody in a wheelchair was down an aisle, I’d never go down that aisle, no way. I was paranoid that I’d end up in one if I got too close. It was almost like having thought about it so much kind of prepared me,” she says.
It was probably Diane’s indomitable spirit that prepared her more than anything else. It’s a spirit that comes through in both her funny stories and her powerfully quiet testimony about the importance of an eternal perspective and God’s love for each of his children. It’s a spirit that Diane has always had. “I’ve never met anyone, except my father, who has a stronger testimony than she does,” says Marie. “There’s no doubt in her mind that what she’s doing is right and that the Church is true. She has always been a great example.”
The lights dim when she finishes her message, and a slide show featuring Diane, the ham and gymnast, flashes on the screen in time to some upbeat music. When it’s over, young people swarm around her, enveloping her tiny frame and wheelchair with their excitement.
Diane says, “It makes me feel really good when people tell me they’re going to try harder after they’ve heard my talk. One girl came to me once and told me she’d heard me speak four different times. The first time, she decided not to commit suicide. The second time, she decided that she didn’t have to flunk out of school. The third time, she made a goal to make the honor roll, and the last time she was on her way to that goal.” Another champion in the making, thanks to Diane.
Diane just shrugs and laughs a little when someone tells her she’s wonderful. She even looks a little embarrassed, which is rare for this experienced performer. “People always think, ‘You’re so amazing, you’re so incredible,’ but I’m not. People will say, ‘If that happened to me I could never cope with it,’ and the thing I have to say is, ‘Either you cope or you die.’ You have to take whatever life gives you and deal with it, even if you might not want to. You know, if somebody dies in your family, you have to live with it. If you break your neck you have to live with it, but you just learn and that’s what’s so great about time and the healing process. You don’t have to be miraculous.”
You just have to be as willing as Diane was to get up again, so that someday it will be your turn to be the champion.
For Diane, the victory is especially sweet, because she has won back what she thought she’d lost.
She is a champion again.

My dear brothers and sisters, I desire more than anything this hour to bear witness, a personal witness, of the love of God for me, for you, and for all mankind. What man is sufficiently adequate to be able to express the depth of his gratitude in recognition of the love of God? How blessed I have been for so many years to be with you and to have found the pure love of Christ emanating from you. I am deeply indebted to you and to God.
The Lord said that charity is “the pure love of Christ,” that which is “most joyous to the soul,” “the greatest of all the gifts of God,” “perfect” and “everlasting.”
As difficult as charity is to describe, it is rather easily recognized in the lives of those who possess it.
An aged, crippled grandmother who subscribes to an afternoon newspaper, knowing it will bring her delivery-boy grandson to her home every day where, at her knee, she teaches him to pray.
A mother who, in hard economic times and scarcity of meat, seems to savor only chicken wings, to the puzzlement of all.
A man who suffers an undeserved public chastisement, but humbly receives it anyway.
Is not the common thread in these examples charity, a selflessness, a not seeking for anything in return? All of our divine attributes seem to flow from and be encompassed by this one. All men may have the gift of love, but charity is bestowed only upon those who are true followers of Christ.
The very power of God is found in His attributes of godliness. The power of the priesthood is maintained by these attributes. We seek these attributes, especially charity, the pure love of Christ.
Yet there stands the devil, the destroyer of this love, replacing it with anger and hostility. My friend William felt that way: hostile. It seemed that whatever happened, it was the Lord’s fault—an illness, a death, a wayward child, a personal weakness, an “unanswered” prayer—all of which hardened his heart. His inner anger, which could flare up in but a moment, was directed toward God, his fellowman, and himself. From his heart emanated unbelief, stubbornness, pride, contention, and a loss of hope, love, and direction. He was miserable!
These destroyers of peace blinded William to God’s feelings for him. He could neither discover nor feel God’s love. He did not see, especially in those dark moments, that God was richly blessing him even still. Instead, he returned anger for love. Have we not all felt that at times? Even when we have merited love the least, He has loved us the most. Truly, He loves us first.

Each September a large international corporation, at its own expense, flew me and some other people to its headquarters in Chicago for a meeting that lasted several days. One year when I was there, a top executive of this corporation asked, “Thomas, would you like to go to dinner with me tonight? I’m inviting some others, and I’d love to have you join us.”
Liquor was available at the dinner, and a waiter asked for our drink order. I said, “I wouldn’t care for anything.”
My host, who was seated next to me, said, “Come on, Tom, have a drink. Relax.”
“No, I really wouldn’t care for anything.”
“Well, you have to have something.”
So I ordered ginger ale. It surprised me just a little that he would insist as he had, because he’d known me over the years, and whenever I went to his organization’s “social hours,” I was automatically given a glass of orange juice. But that night he really put the pressure on me. Then the waiter asked the others for their orders, and everyone ordered an alcoholic drink except the host—he ordered ginger ale!
A couple of weeks later, after I had returned to Salt Lake City, I received a long-distance telephone call from this man. He said, “I’d like to come out and visit with you. Will you be in town on such-and-such dates?”
I said that I would, and he came out with his wife and spent two or three days with us. At the end of their visit, he said, “Now I’m going to tell you why I’m really here. I’m here to ask you to be my assistant. I’d very much appreciate it if you would consider moving to Chicago. You could live in Evanston, Illinois; there are no alcoholic beverages served there, so you’d live in that kind of atmosphere. We want you to be part of our corporation. Take a week or ten days to think about it, then call me.”
“Something interests me,” I said. “When we were back in Chicago and you invited me to dinner that night, you really put the pressure on me to take a drink. Why?”
He smiled and said, “That’s right; I did. You see, we want to have men with very high ideals to head this corporation. We’d like to have men who think that the most enjoyable way to spend a Saturday night is to be home reading a family magazine and drinking ginger ale.”
It was a great honor to be offered such a key position in such a prestigious company, but after much deliberation, I called to tell him that I was going to stay with ZCMI. He said, “That’s fine. We still appreciate you, and if you ever change your mind, let me know.”
In life we find challenges of various kinds. Some of them are obvious, and some of them are not quite so obvious. In this case the challenge was not quite so obvious. But because I had met the challenge and had not had an alcoholic drink that night at the restaurant, I was thrice-blessed for sticking by my principles. First, I was offered a key position in an international organization. Second, even after I had turned them down, they let me know that their doors would always be open to me. Third, I was called by the Lord to spend my life in the best possible way—working full-time for Him.

Heredia, Costa Rica: Drunk, he broke his back in a car accident. He begged the Lord for another chance at life.
When he left his friend’s wedding, Carlos Barrera was drunk. But he drove anyway—and ended up wrecking his car and breaking his spinal column in three places. “My whole life passed before me,” he says. “‘Give me another chance,’ I begged the Lord.” Now he knows that his petition was answered.
Carlos had been baptized when he was seventeen, but unlike his Latter-day Saint friends, he didn’t go on a mission. While they were gone, he made new friends—people with bad habits. “I began to smoke and drink. I’d been active until then—was even an elder—and my conscience got to me. From then on, my life was awful.”
He married Haydee, a nonmember. “We were always missing something in our lives,” he says. Then he lost his job. Problems mounted. “I started going around with an even worse crowd, people who took drugs, whose lives were filled with things of the world.”
“Instead of becoming more united during that time of trial,” says Haydee, “we became separated emotionally.”
Missionaries and Church members frequently came to encourage him, and he even went back to church once. “But I couldn’t stand being there because of my conscience,” he says.
Finally he got a good job as a radio operator for the police department. But he still hadn’t found peace. “I attended my wife’s church with her and the girls, looking for what I was missing, but I never found it. I talked with the priests there, begging with tears for help, but they didn’t know how.” Haydee listened to the missionary discussions but didn’t want to be baptized.
Then, in November 1986, came that accident in which Carlos broke his back. Luckily, his operations were successful: he wasn’t paralyzed. “I saw that I could walk again, that Heavenly Father had listened to my prayer, even though I had been drunk. How was that possible? I knew my life had some purpose; I prayed that he would help me.” From that moment, he never drank alcohol again.
In February two sister missionaries came to meet this less-active family they had on their list. “Their timing was perfect!” says Carlos. “If they’d come before or after that moment, my heart might not have been ready, and I might have missed the opportunity again. I put on a tough front, telling them I didn’t think I would come back to Church. But inside I was crying for help.”
The sisters kept coming, and they taught Carlos and Haydee all of the discussions again. Haydee gained a testimony and was baptized in March—just four months after Carlos’s accident. Carlos stopped smoking and began attending church with Haydee and their two daughters. Now he teaches the elders quorum and she teaches Primary.
“It’s been a complete, total change,” says Haydee. “Now, thanks to our Father in Heaven, here we are as a family in the Church! If we weren’t in the Church, perhaps we wouldn’t be together. Who knows what would have happened to us!” (See “They Didn’t Go by Accident.”)

Pastel-colored tissue paper cluttered tabletops as young women from a ward in Utah, USA, working with their leaders, cut circle after circle, then threaded the circles together to form flowers, and then attached them to head bands. As they fashioned flower after paper flower, laughter and conversation filled the air—as well as anticipation. The flowers were to be worn at a dinner where, after months of anonymous service, the young women would finally meet their “secret grandmothers.”
From February to September, the young women had worked both alone and in groups—delivering treats, washing windows, plastering paper hearts all over doors—anything they could think of to brighten the day of the senior sisters in their ward.
And now it was finally time for the grandmothers to find out which young women had been serving them.
The evening for the dinner soon arrived. It didn’t take long before young women and “secret grandmothers,” all of them with paper flowers in their hair, were laughing and joking, saying, “So, you’re the one!” and “Thank you so much!”
Once everyone was a little better acquainted, and after sharing a delicious meal, the real fun of the evening began. The “grandmothers” had responded to questionnaires. As their answers were read aloud, the young women had to guess who was being introduced.
Answers revealed information such as favorite childhood activities, best advice received from parents, life-changing moments, family rules and chores when they were teens, favorite foods, embarrassing experiences, awkward dates, nicknames, their mother’s recipes, family heirlooms and traditions, favorite teachers, and much more.
There were some tender moments. One young woman, Charlotte R., 18, who lost her mother when she was eight, found out that two of the senior sisters had been through the same experience.
“That strengthened me a lot,” Charlotte said. “Here are women I admire, who do so much and help so many, and I never knew that they lost their mothers, too.”
Sister Shields, for example, was 16 when her mother died. Charlotte said, “When she said her mother’s faith stayed strong and that she heard her mother’s testimony many times, that really touched me, because that’s how my mother was.”
Sister Shields showed two prized possessions to the young women—a baptismal dress her mother sewed, and a coat her mother made for her just before she passed away.
Serenity M., 15, said that “seeing what Sister Shields’s mother did for her made me think about what my mother has given to me.” It also made her glad that she had made something nice for Sister Shields: “a hot chocolate mug with a smiley face inside, so that when she’s done drinking cocoa she has an extra reason to smile.”
Another young woman, Michaela M., 15, said she had often seen Sister Heyward at church before the months of service began. “I never actually knew her personally,” Michaela said, “but doing service for her made me feel closer to her, even though until tonight she didn’t know who was doing it.”
At the dinner, however, Michaela gained additional perspective. “Tonight, when the ‘grandmothers’ answered questions about growing up, going on dates, what they learned in seminary, and all of that, I thought, those are the same things I’m going through. I got the feeling that we’re all sisters, even though we’re different ages.”
Emma F., 13, agreed. “Sometimes it’s fun to be with people who are a little older because you get to see how much alike we are.”
Emily M., 15, said that an added benefit of the service and the dinner was that it made her feel eager to attend Relief Society. “If they’re all nice like these ladies,” she said, “then I’m excited.”
“It brought us together as sisters in Zion,” said Chloe F., 17. “It wasn’t scary or intimidating to be with these ladies; it was easy and natural because we all had things in common. It strengthened my testimony of how we truly are sisters, and I was impressed with their faith and how it has guided them.” It was, she said, “perfect preparation for when I go into Relief Society this fall.”
And Amanda L., 17, said, “The day after the dinner, Sister Coke left me some flowers and a note that said she was happy to get to know me. I’ve made a friend and it won’t taper off. I’m going to keep visiting her every once in a while to see how she’s doing, to let her know we still care.”
That is, after all, the sort of thing that sisters do.

Walter and Edith were serving a temple mission and had only a few months left when he became seriously ill with cancer and was bedridden for the first time in his life. During his illness, he reflected on his life. “He could see that he had accomplished much,” says Gloria, “but he also saw that he probably could have led a more balanced life. He softened at the end, in all of his suffering. The thing that made him happiest was that his family had strong testimonies of the gospel of Jesus Christ.”

Walter Spät died on 15 May 1989.

As the Bible declares, the true Church of Jesus Christ is “built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Jesus Christ himself being the chief corner stone” (Ephesians 2:20). I experienced an application of that fundamental principle of the restored gospel many years ago.
A member of the Church brought her neighbor to my office. The neighbor’s husband was a Protestant minister with a large congregation. For many years, this couple had served the Lord with great diligence in their Christian ministry. He had baptized many people into that church.
Now, through the influence of his Latter-day Saint neighbors, he had read the Book of Mormon and was converted to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He was ready to resign his ministry and join the restored Church. But first, he and his wife needed an answer to their question regarding priesthood authority. Reminding me that her husband had baptized many people, his wife asked, “Are you telling me that my husband didn’t have any authority to baptize all the people that he baptized?”
The Spirit prompted my answer, as it will in these situations.
“No,” I said. “I’m sure your husband had authority to baptize all the people that he baptized. He had all the authority that his church could give him. He could perform marriages. He could make people members of the congregation. He could hire a contractor to put a new roof on your church. But that isn’t the kind of authority we’re discussing. The authority in your question is the authority that Jesus gave to Peter, that whatsoever he did on earth would be honored in heaven (see Matthew 16:19). And because that divine authority must be traceable to Apostles, it exists only in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.”

The example of a faithful pioneer sister illustrates this truth. Mary Lois Walker was married at age 17 to John T. Morris in St. Louis, Missouri. They crossed the plains with the Saints in 1853, entering the Salt Lake Valley shortly after their first anniversary. On their journey they had suffered the privations typical of other Saints. But their sufferings and adversity did not end when they reached the Salt Lake Valley. The following year Mary, then 19, wrote: “A son was born to us. … One evening when he was two or three months old … something whispered to me, ‘You will lose that little one.’”
During the winter the baby’s health declined. “We did all we could, … but the baby grew steadily worse. … On the second of February he passed away … and so I drank the bitter cup of parting from my own flesh and blood.” But her trials were still not over. Mary’s husband was also stricken, and three weeks after losing her baby, he died.
Mary wrote: “So was I, while yet in my teens, bereft in the short period of 20 days, of my husband and my only child, in a strange land hundreds of miles from my blood kin and with a mountain of difficulty before me … and I wished that I too, might die and join my loved one[s].”
Mary continues: “One Sunday evening I was taking a walk with my friend. … I was reminded of [my husband’s] absence and my intense loneliness, and as I wept bitterly I could see, as it were in mental vision, the steep hill of life I should have to climb and felt the reality of it with great force. A deep depression settled upon me, for the enemy knows when to attack us, but our [Savior, Jesus Christ,] is mighty to save. Through … the help given of the Father, I was able to battle with all the force which seemed to be arrayed against me at this time.”
Mary learned at the tender age of 19 that the Atonement gives us the assurance that all things that are unfair in this life can and will be made right—even the deepest sorrows.

On one of my many business trips across Africa, I was fortunate to have met a family in Nairobi, Kenya, with whom I have become friends—the Alumande family. At that time—in 2010—Brother Alumande was bishop of the Upperhill Ward; today he is the stake patriarch. Brother Alumande strives to lift where he stands by serving and loving those around him and by inviting his family to do the same. I have met his grandchildren, Amari (age 8) and Jabari (age 4), and I can see that they have been taught to be kind and to serve their friends and neighbors. They have learnt this through the example of their grandfather. With his permission, and the permission of those involved, permit me to tell about a recent experience that happened during the past (2017) Christmas season—an experience involving his family and others not of our faith.

Most recently I visited the Alumande family at their home, and while we were sharing a gospel lesson—and already well into it—a woman and her young son entered the house. They were excited, reaching out and greeting everyone enthusiastically and happily. They suddenly realized that we were having a lesson, and as Brother Alumande explained what we were discussing, they agreed to stay and join our conversation. I later learnt that this sister has been facing severe health challenges and other problems, during which time Brother Alumande and his family have been reaching out with love, kindness, and service to her and to her children. They shared gospel lessons with the family and invited them to various Church services and activities. Brother Alumande’s grandchildren, Amari and Jabari, have become friends with this sister’s children and enjoy playing together—and have learnt to share whatever little they may have. It is easy to see the sense of care and kindness instilled at such a young age to the Alumande grandchildren because they have been taught, in word and in deed, the principle of love and service to one another.

Kip pulled out of his book of remembrance a sheet of photocopy paper containing the imprints of two hands, one large and the other small. “This is one of my favorite pictures,” he said. “I was about ten when my dad and I were playing around with a copy machine and took these pictures of our hands.” Looking again at the difference in the sizes of the handprints, he added, “Now I’m taller than my dad.”

Whitney Rich says, “I have to admit that when I was growing up, I was afraid of marriage because I saw so many unhappy and failed ones. I wondered what I could do to make sure that my marriage to Justin would succeed.” Whitney and Justin spent a lot of time discussing this. They prayed, studied scriptures, and read Church-oriented books on the subject. They finally concluded that staying close to the Spirit was the best possible way of staying close to each other. Justin says, “The best marriage is not just a two-way partnership between a husband and wife. It’s a three-way partnership between a husband, a wife, and the Lord.”

I would like to use my own family as an illustration of what I have in mind. Mother and I were filling a mission together over in Holland when we had a little girl born to us, and after we had been home a few years she passed away. When she was born, my wife has told me over and over again that she felt she saw an angel bring that spirit to her. And yet she is gone. Then I think of her four sisters. You voted here today to sustain one of them as a counselor in the general presidency of the Relief Society. Her other three sisters are just as noble and wonderful, although their talents may be just a little different.

When I think of this little one that we laid away when she was three-and-a-half years old, I thank God I have the faith to believe that God reigns in the heavens above and in the earth beneath and that this little one will ultimately enter into her glory and be equal to any of her four sisters who have tarried here upon this earth and raised their families. I thank God for the statement of the apostle Paul when he said that “If in this life only we have hope in Christ, we are of all men most miserable.” (1 Cor. 15:19.) In this brief period of mortality, it would not be possible for God to accomplish for all of his children all that he has in mind for them, the ones that are true and faithful.

I think of the statement of Moses as recorded in the Pearl of Great Price: “For behold, this is my work and my glory—to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man.” (Moses 1:39.) I wonder sometimes if we ever stop to analyze that statement. I think we can understand what “to bring to pass immortality” is, that we will never die after we come forth in the resurrection, as President Romney pointed out this morning. But what about eternal life? As I interpret this, I find in it the feeling that all that God has ultimately planned for his children who are faithful and true shall come to them in his own due time.

We read in the Book of Mormon that we are not all born at the same time (and that doesn’t matter) and that we don’t all die at the same time. (See Alma 40:8.) I think of the words of Abraham when he saw the placing of the spirits here upon this earth, that the Lord would prove them to see if they would do all things whatsoever he had commanded them. Then he adds: “And they who keep their first estate shall be added upon.” (Abr. 3:26.) That was in the spirit life before we came to mortality. “They who keep their second estate shall have glory added upon their heads for ever and ever.” (Abr. 3:26.) This little girl of ours kept her second estate as far as she could at her age.

Then I think of the statement of the Lord to the Prophet Joseph Smith when he said: “The works, and the designs, and the purposes of God cannot be frustrated, neither can they come to naught.” (D&C 3:1.) In other words, no one can stand in the way of God achieving what he has decreed for his children. Then a further statement in the Doctrine & Covenants where the Lord said: “His purposes fail not, neither are there any who can stay his hand. From eternity to eternity he is the same.” (D&C 76:3–4.)

Then there are the words of the Lord to the prophet Nephi when he said: “For my work is not yet finished; neither shall it be until the end of man, neither from that time henceforth and forever.” (2 Ne. 29:9.) Now that should enable us to comprehend and realize that there will never be a time when God will cease to do his work to bring to pass, as we read in the Pearl of Great Price, the glory that will be added upon their heads forever and ever.

Coming back to our family, we had four daughters before we got a boy and he grew into beautiful young manhood; we lost him in an accident down at the beach in California while I was the president of the stake there. He was just turning 16 and he stood as tall as his father, and to think now of his own brothers who are here: they have their families, and one of them has just been serving as one of the Regional Representatives of the Twelve. I can’t believe that boy will come out any less exalted in the eternities that are to come than his brothers who have lived here in mortality. When he died, the principal of the high school came to our home (and he was not a member of the Church) and told Sister Richards that our son was the best boy he had ever had in his school, and we felt that, too, as he grew into manhood.

A couple of weeks ago, my friend’s 12-year-old sister passed away. Mili had suffered brain damage at birth. She never spoke or walked or did things for herself.
I helped care for Mili for a long time. When I was notified of her death, I couldn’t be comforted. Then I remembered learning that when we are resurrected and return to the presence of the Lord, we enjoy perfect health and have a perfect understanding. This knowledge comforted me greatly.
I wanted to console her family, but I didn’t know how to share the peace I felt with them—especially since they are not members of the Church. Then it came to me to look in the Liahona. I randomly chose an issue, and the First Presidency Message was “The Faith of a Child,” by President Thomas S. Monson (see Liahona, August 1998, 2–6). He told of the death of a 10-year-old girl. He spoke of Jesus Christ’s beautiful message: “Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not: for of such is the kingdom of God” (Mark 10:14). It was exactly what I needed. I found a way to express consolation to her family.
I’m extremely grateful and happy to be a Latter-day Saint and to be able to read the Liahona (Spanish).

We sustain Gordon B. Hinckley as the President of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and as the prophet, seer, and revelator of the Church in our time. A letter which I received from a proud father tells of an experience with his then five-year-old son and the boy’s love for the President of the Church and desire to emulate the President’s example. The father wrote:
“When Christopher was five years old, he would get ready for church on Sundays mostly by himself. On one particular Sunday, he decided that he wanted to wear a suit and tie, which to that point he had never done. He scoured the closet on his own for a hand-me-down tie and produced a rather used clip-on one that he didn’t need to create a knot for. He attached the tie to his white shirt, then capped it off with the small navy jacket that had hung for years in the boys’ closet.
“On his own, he went into the bathroom and painstakingly combed his blonde hair to perfection. About that time, I came into the bathroom to finish getting ready myself. I found Christopher beaming at himself in the mirror. Without taking his eyes off his reflection, he proclaimed proudly, ‘Look, Papa—Christopher B. Hinckley!’” And Father realized that a boy had been watching the prophet of the Lord.

As a new General Authority, Elder Marion G. Romney (1897–1988) felt inadequate in fulfilling his important calling, so he sought advice from his friend Elder Harold B. Lee (1899–1973) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. The counsel offered that day both surprised and motivated Elder Romney. Elder Lee said: “If you are to be successful as a General Authority, you will need to be inspired. You will need to receive revelation. I will give you one piece of advice: Go to bed early and get up early. If you do, your body and mind will become rested and then in the quiet of those early morning hours, you will receive more flashes of inspiration and insight than at any other time of the day.”
Years later, reflecting back on that experience, then-President Romney said: “From that day on, I put that counsel into practice, and I know it works. Whenever I have a serious problem, or some assignment of a creative nature with which I hope to receive the influence of the Spirit, I always receive more assistance in the early morning hours than at any other time of the day.”1

On one occasion, an ancient mathematician named Archimedes was asked by his king to determine if the king’s new crown was solid gold or if the goldsmith had dishonestly substituted some silver for gold. Archimedes pondered the solution; finally an answer came. So overjoyed was he by this discovery that, according to legend, he ran about the city crying, “Eureka! Eureka!”—meaning, “I have found it! I have found it!”

At about that same time, I was invited to a lunch for all of the Relief Society sisters in my ward who had read either the Book of Mormon or a short Church history book. I had become casual in my scripture reading, so I qualified to attend the luncheon by reading the short book because it was easier and took less time. As I was eating my lunch, I had a powerful feeling that though the history book was a good one, I should have read the Book of Mormon. The Holy Ghost was prompting me to change my scripture reading habits. That very day I began to read the Book of Mormon, and I have never stopped reading it. Though I do not consider myself to be an expert, I truly love reading all the scriptures, and I am grateful I started the lifetime habit of reading them. It would be impossible to learn the lessons the scriptures contain by reading them only one time through or studying selected verses in a class.