Gospel Story Finder

My friend Donna grew up desiring to marry and raise a large family. But that blessing never came. Instead she spent her adult years serving the people in her ward with unmeasured compassion and counseling disturbed children in a large school district. She had crippling arthritis and many long, blue days. Yet she always lifted and was always lifted by her friends and family. Once when teaching about Lehi’s dream, she said with gentle humor, “I’d put myself in that picture on the strait and narrow path, still holding to the iron rod but collapsed from fatigue right on the path.” In an inspired blessing given just before her death, Donna’s home teacher said the Lord “accepted” her. Donna cried. She had never felt her single life was acceptable. But the Lord said those who “observe their covenants by sacrifice … are accepted of me.” I can envision Him walking the path from the tree of life to lift Donna up with gladness and carry her home.

One day after the accident I was having a really crummy day, and I didn’t want to get out of bed and go to physical therapy. But I went, and I saw a man there who was paralyzed and had been burned. He was smiling and talking to all the therapists, and I thought, “If he can do it, I can too.”
After that experience, I was able to focus more on gratitude. I realized how lucky I was, and I was able to accept my situation a little more. I realized I have to choose to wake up and focus on the good things, like my amazing family and the gospel of Jesus Christ.

A few years ago my husband and I were enjoying visiting Australia. It was promising to be another beautiful spring day in the outskirts of Sydney. We were to be involved in a mission presidents’ seminar for presidents and their wives in that area of the world. However, at approximately 5:00 a.m. on a Wednesday morning, the telephone rang and woke us from our sleep. My experience with middle-of-the-night telephone calls has been that they usually portend bad news. Thus, as my husband got out of bed to answer the phone, I was quite nervous and concerned. As he answered the phone, I heard him say, “Hello, Emma.”
I relaxed somewhat, knowing that Emma was his secretary in the Office of the Seventy. I knew that we were 16 hours ahead of Salt Lake City time and it was Tuesday during working hours there. My thought was that she just wanted to talk to him before he became involved in the meetings of the day. However, his response to whatever she was saying to him was a very shocked “Oh, no!”
Again I became very concerned and surmised that it was not good news but involved something or someone from the Church family and not our own immediate one. I recall that he hung up the telephone and came and said to me that Emma had just reported to him that two planes had hit the World Trade Center buildings in New York City. We were instructed to remain in Australia until further notice.
We, of course, got up and turned on the television and were filled with shock, horror, and great sadness as we saw and heard of the devastating attacks in our homeland. The seminar began that day, but, as you can imagine, it wasn’t quite business as usual. A great somberness filled all our hearts. I felt such a heaviness of spirit.
The day proceeded with an abbreviated schedule as well as phone calls by the participants in the seminar to their homes and families. We were also informed that we would be able to receive the audio portion of a program to be held that evening originating from the Tabernacle on Temple Square.
The time came to hear the broadcast from Salt Lake City. I cannot recall exactly what was said or sung that night; however, I can vividly recall how I was affected when I heard the voice of our beloved prophet, Gordon B. Hinckley, as he spoke from thousands of miles away. Just to hear his voice seemed to lift much of the sadness and gloom I was feeling. I will always remember and treasure the comfort and peace I felt from hearing the love and tenderness in his voice that day. Others in the meeting expressed having the same overwhelming feelings of calmness and solace as I did upon hearing his voice. This peace came from our knowledge that we had a prophet to lead and guide us and that if we but listen and obey the words of such a man, who speaks for the Master, all would be well in our lives—no matter what else happened.

Chris Obzansky played ice hockey for three years before he decided it just wasn’t for him. When he was nine, he traded his hockey skates for figure skates and pushed off on a path that has led him to a successful career as an ice dancer. But it hasn’t all been smooth gliding.
“I got really determined to learn on those figure skates,” he says. “But I just kept stumbling on those toe picks!” Despite the difficulties, he found that ice dancing was what he really wanted to do. And besides, “I thought it was pretty cool to be skating with a girl instead of with a team of smelly hockey players,” Chris says, laughing.
He had big dreams. He and his partner had placed second at the junior level United States nationals, third at U.S. nationals, and first in an international competition in China. His plan was to compete in the 2006 Winter Olympics and then go on a mission after he turned 21. But when he was 18, just when everything was going smoothly, he ran into a snag.
“I wasn’t really enjoying it, and I was having a hard time with the sport,” he remembers. “I was just trying to push through it, and I could not do it anymore. I said, ‘Lord, what do I do?’”
Chris got the first part of his answer when he went to talk to his bishop, who encouraged him to pray about his plan to delay his mission. “His advice kind of went in one ear and out the other,” Chris admits. “But my life got to the point where I really did have to ask, and I really did have to listen.”
The second part of Chris’s answer came during a sacrament meeting. As he listened to his Young Men president talk about his own mission call, the Spirit told him, “‘Chris, you need to serve a mission when you’re 19, or you’re going to have a tough life.’ The message was so clear I actually turned around to see if someone was there,” he says. “The feeling came back 10 times stronger, and I knew I had to go on a mission.”
That night Chris called his partner and coaches to give them the news. When he had first started training with them, he told them that a mission was a possibility. But none of them had expected him to go—at least not yet. Although they were disappointed, Chris says, “They’ve been very supportive of me and my mission, and I give them credit for that.”
Chris feels peace about his decision and where his life is going. “I’m grateful Heavenly Father gave me that prompting,” he says. “But it’s been really hard since then. Satan tried to bring me down in any way possible.”
To combat the fears and temptations, Chris read the scriptures and prayed the way he used to dedicate himself to practicing at the ice rinks in Delaware, where he lived while he trained. He studied the scriptures at least twice a day, and he set aside time to pray earnestly at least three times a day. “That really protected me,” he says. He also credits much of his help to surrounding himself with good friends and family when he came back home to the Thirteenth Ward of the Salt Lake Central Stake.
There are lots of rules in ice dancing—lots of required and restricted moves. To succeed takes a lot of creativity and dancing talent. Chris thinks his experiences with ice dancing will help him on his mission—experiences like learning to get along with a partner, following strict rules, and being dedicated to something every day for a long time.
His call to the Baltic States Mission, Russian speaking, was exciting for Chris, especially since he knows speaking Russian will help him if he still wants to return to ice dancing after his mission. (Many of the competitors and coaches speak Russian.) He also wants to be a coach eventually. But for now, he says, “I just want to try to bring people to a knowledge of the gospel.”
Being prompted to go on a mission wasn’t the first time Chris asked for and received the Lord’s guidance in his life. He was 16, had just split from a skating partner, and was having a hard time. “My dad gave me a blessing, and he told me the Spirit would be with me and would comfort me,” he says.
After the blessing, Chris was prompted to read D&C 58. Verses two through seven have made a big difference in his life. “I thought they were written exactly for me,” he says. “Everything in those verses has come to pass in my life and is still coming to pass. Those verses have given me so much comfort.”
Trying to obey the counsel he received in D&C 58, Chris is serving a mission when the Lord asked him to, and he is ready to bear testimony of the Savior and the gospel in the Baltic states. He knows he will have more difficulties than toe picks and changing partners there, but he also knows that when he asks for guidance, the Lord will answer.

And I am grateful for my wife. I would like to tell you a little story. I have been to three or four thousand meetings, I guess, in the last twenty-five years; and every one of those times she has sustained me—except for one. When I was off to a Sunday School meeting one night, she asked, “Will you be home early?” I said, “Yes, I’ll be home at 10:30.” Eleven o’clock and 11:30 came, and I wasn’t home. When I finally came home, I walked up to the door to walk in as usual, and it was locked. I rang the doorbell—and no answer. So I knocked on the door, and finally she came. She said, “I’m not going to let you in.”

I said, “Oh, come on.”

And she said, “No, it’s one time too many.”

In those days we had a Nash Rambler with a front seat that made out into a bed (but it was in the middle of winter). So I took my overcoat and went out into the car and rolled back the seat, and went to bed.

After a little while I could hear the front door open, and my wife came out to the car and asked me to come in. I told her I didn’t think I would. It was so cold I finally did.

Brethren, my wife is such a wonderful woman. In all of those years, she has sustained me so much; and I would hope that as members of the priesthood, as we hold leadership roles, we will remember this little experience and remember our wives.

From Oyo, Nigeria. Likes to play football (soccer).
I knew a boy from church who was a bully before, but one day he suddenly changed. I decided to ask him, “Why did you change?” He told me that he prayed, read his scriptures, had faith, and worked hard to change his behavior. It helped me because now when I want to make a decision, academically or spiritually, I usually pray for God to guide me.
My friend might not be perfect, but his behavior touched my heart. Now I usually read the scriptures before I take any step in my life. My friend’s example has brought me closer to Christ because any time I sin, I can go back to the Lord in prayer and repentance. Going to the Lord has helped me set aside my burdens.

Sheryl Swain, 18, of Carmichael, California, has achieved a unique distinction in her high school. She is the first girl to complete a grueling, three-year program to win her school’s navy blue level of physical achievement. Students all begin with white PE shorts and achieve different colors as they complete each physical feat.
Since the program has been in existence, only 19 boys have finished at the highest level. The program includes feats of strength and endurance such as carrying another student weighing ten pounds less for one mile, swimming underwater for 50 yards, running a mile in under 6 1/2 minutes, remaining afloat in a pool with hands and feet tied for 6 minutes, and climbing a standard-length gym rope in 8 seconds. Of all the events, running the mile in the prescribed time was the most difficult for Sheryl.
Sheryl is Laurel class secretary in her La Sierra Ward, Fair Oaks California Stake.

In 1959, I turned 8 and wanted to be baptised, but my father would not give his permission. I continued to attend Primary with all my Church friends, then at age 12 I started to attend MIA (which stood for Mutual Improvement Association) as it was then called. My friends obtained the Aaronic Priesthood and progressed from deacon to teacher to priest.
In those days, we met in a big house, and as members we were asked to raise money towards the building of a meetinghouse, and to also to work so many hours on the construction of the meetinghouse. Once I turned 15 and about to leave school, I decided to go on a building mission on the Worcester meetinghouse, as a site had been found. My parents were divorced by that point, and my mother kept me and gave me ten shillings a week pocket money. Whilst building the meetinghouse, I turned 16 and my father told me, “If you still want to join those Mormons go ahead.”
I told our then-branch president, President Smart, that my father had given permission for me to be baptised but that I had decided that as “I’ve waited this long, I’ll wait a little longer if I can be the first to be baptised in the new chapel.”
On March 10, 1968, the chapel was dedicated by President Cullimore. On the following day, Monday 11 March, I was the first person to be baptised in the Worcester meetinghouse, by Brother Ken Chapman. Followed by four others also getting baptised, I was then confirmed a member of the Church by Brother Des Gorman, who was the building supervisor in charge of the construction.

In earlier times, tithing was paid in kind—a tenth of the herdsman’s increase, a tenth of the farmer’s produce. I am sorry that our modern cash economy deprives parents of the wonderful teaching opportunities presented by the payment of tithing in kind. In a recent book, Tongan Saints: Legacy of Faith, the author quotes a Tongan bishop’s memories of one such example:
“Grandpa Vanisi’s spirituality inspired an awe in me as a child. I remember following him daily to his plantation. He would always point out to me the very best of his taro, bananas, or yams and say: ‘These will be for our tithing.’ His greatest care was given to these ‘chosen’ ones. During the harvest, I was often the one assigned to take our load of tithing to the branch president. I remember sitting on the family horse. Grandfather would lift onto its back a sack of fine taro which I balanced in front of me. Then with a very serious look in his eyes, he said to me, ‘Simi, be very careful because this is our tithing.’ From my grandfather I learned early in life that you give only your best to the Lord” (in Eric B. Shumway, trans. and ed., Tongan Saints: Legacy of Faith [Laie, Hawaii: The Institute for Polynesian Studies, 1991], pp. 79–80).

“Oh, no—my shirt’s ruined!” Emily cried. She pulled the still-warm shirt from the dryer. “Let me see,” her father said. He put down the pants he had been folding and took the shirt from Emily. “What’s wrong with it?” He held it out in front of him.
“Look at the stains, Daddy.” Emily pointed at the splotches of blue, green, and brown splattered across the front. “It’s ruined!”
“Well, it’s important to keep our clothes clean and spot-free,” her father agreed, “but it’s also good to have a ‘reminder shirt.’”
“A reminder shirt? What’s that?”
“A reminder shirt reminds us of everything we did on the days it was worn,” Daddy explained. “Do you remember when you wore this shirt, Emily?”
“Last Saturday.”
“Do you remember what we did that day?”
“Well, after lunch, I helped you paint the fence—with blue paint. That’s what those blue stains are!”
“I ended up with blue spots on my shirt, too,” Daddy said. “But we sure had fun painting that fence, didn’t we?”
“Yes! Later, you took me to the park, and you chased me until I fell down and slid across the grass on my tummy.”
“Grass stains.” Daddy pointed at the green streaks on the front of the shirt. “And then—”
“We went for ice cream! I had a double scoop of triple fudge. You had two scoops of mint. And you made me laugh so hard that I knocked one of my scoops off the cone.”
“So now you have chocolate stains.” Daddy handed the shirt back to Emily. “I think all the stains make the shirt better. Because of them, we’ll always remember the fun we had that day. That’s more important to me than any shirt.”
“Me, too, Daddy.” Emily slipped the shirt over her other shirt. “I’m going to wear my reminder shirt again.”
“You are?”
“Sure. I want to make some more memories. The mud in the backyard is wet and gooey today—just right for building mud castles! It will be a lot more fun if you’ll help me,” she coaxed.
“It sounds like I’d better put on my reminder shirt, too,” Daddy replied, allowing her to pull him toward the back door.
“Then our shirts will match even better! And that means that we’ll have had lots of fun together.”

Perhaps an experience is the best explanation. A very promising young girl wanted to know what the Lord expected from her. She was one of the active forces in the MIA, a somewhat autocratic young lady. She came from six hundred miles away for the sole purpose of receiving her patriarchal blessing and learning what the Lord expected her to do. Because the blessing had to be translated first into the French language, she was forced to wait longer for it. She became impatient and asked me in a letter to inform her what the special message of her blessing was. Thereupon I consoled her with the answer: patience is the special message. After receipt of the translation she wrote to me again that she could not find the special message in her blessing. So I had to answer her that she should read the blessing again carefully and she would find some things therein that, if she would follow them, would make someone aware of her who would then tell her what she should do. Two years later she informed me that she was traveling to the temple to receive her endowments. She had been called on a mission to Scotland and wanted to see me again before leaving. In the meantime she had been responsible for several baptisms, her parents were attending meetings, her mother was trying to keep the Word of Wisdom, and her sister had been baptized.

Was something special contained in her blessing? Was her patience rewarded? Certainly. And this was only the beginning of a long, successful life. How and for what should one prepare oneself? We should not prepare ourselves for something just because another has received it. What the Lord expects of us is found in the example of Nathaniel (John 1:45–47), and therewith the readiness to do everything that may be expected for the fulfillment of the blessing given and to avoid everything that would detract from it.

“Do you know what I like best about Christmas?” five-year-old Sara asked, her big brown eyes shining.
Her mother stopped wrapping gifts. “Santa?”
“I like Santa, but the most fun is wrapping presents for you and Daddy and Mike and Tim.”
Mom was pleased with Sara’s answer. Tim and Mike, her older brothers, had long lists of expensive items they wanted. Sara had no list. She was more excited about the gifts she was wrapping.
“Hi, everyone!” Dad called. “I’m home early so we can go get our tree.”
“Hurray!” Sara shouted. “Then we can decorate it.”
But later, when Mom pulled out the boxes of ornaments, both boys groaned.
“Do we have to do that tonight?” Mike asked. “I have math homework.”
“Me too,” Tim moaned.
“How about helping for just a half hour?” Dad suggested.
While her brothers argued about where decorations should go, Sara quickly and quietly placed red bulbs on the tree.
“Sara,” Tim said, “your bulbs are all at the bottom. That doesn’t look right.”
Sara’s eyes lost their sparkle.
“We need lots of bulbs on the bottom,” Dad said. “Sara’s friends aren’t as tall as you boys, and when they visit us, we want them to see lots of bulbs.” He handed Sara another bulb, and a smile lit up her face.
That night at supper, Mom said quietly, “I think we’ve all lost the spirit of Christmas—that is, all of us except Sara.”
“Oh, Mom,” Mike protested, “we all decorated the tree. And we’ve bought most of our presents.”
“I think Mom’s talking about the real meaning of Christmas,” Dad said. “And she’s right. It’s like we’re getting ready for a big party, but we’ve forgotten whom the party is for.”
Tim rolled his eyes. “We all know it’s to celebrate the Savior’s birth,” he murmured.
“But, Tim,” Dad persisted, “how was your birthday party different from the one we’re planning for Jesus Christ?”
“Well, Jesus isn’t here to get His presents.”
“What presents?” Dad asked.
“How would you have felt if all your friends brought presents for each other but no presents for you?” Mom added.
“That wouldn’t have been much of a party,” Tim admitted.
“Well,” Dad asked, “do you have a gift for the Savior on December 25th?”
“You’re trying to tell us that we need to buy gifts for Jesus?” Mike wondered.
“You don’t buy gifts for Jesus,” Tim interrupted. “You give Him gifts in other ways—like doing something good for someone.”
“Now you have the idea,” Dad said. “Do you think there’s still time to do something good for someone else?”
“It’s over a week before Christmas,” Mom put in. “Sister Altos told me about a family across town whose father is out of work and who have huge medical bills to pay. Shall I find out more about them and see if we can help them this year?”
“Won’t they be embarrassed to have us take them presents?” Mike asked. “What if the kids go to our school?”
“We could do this anonymously,” Dad said. “We could sneak our things for them onto their doorstep on Christmas Eve, and they’d never have to know who did it.”
“How can we know what they need or want?” Tim asked.
“I’ll check with Sister Altos,” Mom said. “She might be able to get sizes and ideas without letting the family know.”
Sara had been listening quietly. Now she shouted, “I hope they have a little girl! She can have some of the presents Santa was going to give me this year.”
“Does this mean that we’re giving away the presents we’d be getting?” Mike yelped.
“How about if everyone gets just one gift from Santa,” Dad said, “and the rest of Santa’s gifts go to our ‘Christmas family’?”
“That’s fair,” both boys agreed.
The following night, Mother had a list from Sister Altos of sizes and ages. There were two boys, a younger sister, and a six-month-old baby.
“Remember,” Dad said, “you can still ask for one gift from Santa. Now, let’s make a list of gifts for these children.”
“I’ll start shopping tomorrow for the things we decide on,” Mom said.
“Can I go too?” Sara pleaded. “And can I help you wrap the presents?”
“Of course.” Mom looked at Tim and Mike. “It’d be fun if you’d wrap presents too. I think you’ll find it rather exciting.”
The days rushed by as everyone bought and wrapped gifts for their Christmas family. Finally Christmas Eve arrived, snowing and cold. Sara hopped up and down with excitement. Even the boys were eager to deliver the gifts.
Father drew them all around him. “I think that this is the best Christmas I’ve ever had,” he said, his voice choking with emotion. “I’m so proud of you children for giving your presents away to someone you don’t even know.”
“I just hope Santa remembers my roller blades,” Tim joked.
Everyone laughed. Dad pulled out a red envelope. “Mom, will you write a message to our Christmas family?” he asked. “We could put some money inside to help with the medical bills—what do you think?”
“I’ve saved about six dollars,” Mike volunteered. “They can have that.”
“I have about five,” Tim chimed in. He rushed to get his savings.
Sara hurried to get her piggy bank. “I have all this money!” she squealed, opening it to let a cascade of pennies, dimes, and nickels clatter to the table. “Can we wrap it in a box for the children?”
Soon every cent of her money was in a box with “Kids’ Money” written on a tag next to the bow.
Mom disappeared for a few moments. “I’ve been saving this for new curtains, but we can wait for those.” She slipped two fifty-dollar bills into the red envelope.
Dad took out his wallet. “I stopped by the bank today, thinking that they could use this.” He put a hundred-dollar bill into the envelope.
Mother placed a card with a note inside the envelope last, then sealed it.
Sister Altos had written down the address. The car resounded with Christmas songs until the correct street sign was spotted and everyone searched for the house number of their Christmas family.
“There it is!” Tim whooped. “They’re home!”
Dad drove past the house so that their car would be out of sight. “OK,” he said, “I’ll open the trunk, and we’ll load up with gifts. Be really quiet so that they don’t hear us. When all the presents are on the porch, we’ll all get back in the car except Mike. Mike, you wait until I’ve started the engine, then ring the doorbell and run.”
No one made a sound as they piled the gifts high on the front porch. Mom held up the red envelope. “I sure hope they see this,” she whispered, tucking it into the top present.
Everyone except Mike rushed to the car, Dad started the engine, and Mike rang the doorbell and raced to the car. As he jumped inside, the front door of the house opened and a little girl shouted, “Daddy! Daddy! Santa has come!”
All the way home the family chattered excitedly about how their Christmas family must be opening their gifts and how surprised they must be.
“I just hope they see the red envelope,” Mom worried aloud again.
When the family gathered for prayers that night, it was Sara’s turn. She blessed everyone in the family and their friends, adding, “Please bless our Christmas family that they’ll like our presents for them. Bless them to have a Merry Christmas.”
Early Christmas morning, the family gathered around their tree. “I got my roller blades,” Tim shouted.
Mike held up a snowboard. “Wow! This is the greatest!”
Sara discovered a doll with a white wicker bed. “Look what Santa brought me!”
They gathered into a circle and exchanged the gifts they had for each other. Mom kept wiping her eyes. Never before had she seen her children so happy.
“I hope our Christmas family is having lots of fun,” Sara said as she tucked her doll into the white bed.
Bright and early Sunday morning, the family hurried off to church. They still radiated with the glow of Christmas.
The last speaker, an elderly gentleman from another stake, was introduced.
Tears trickled down Mom’s cheeks. Father clasped her shoulder tightly. Tim, Mike, and Sara scooted closer to them.
“I hope we can find another Christmas family next year,” Mike whispered.
Tim and Sara nodded vigorously.

Healed the captain’s steward on a journey back to North America.

When Elder Snow left England to return to Nauvoo, Illinois, he brought a large group of newly baptized members with him. They all booked passage on the ship Swanton and prepared for the long journey to North America.

Although the captain of the Swanton was not unkind to the Latter-day Saints on his ship, he wasn’t exactly friendly either. He usually distanced himself from them. But after about two weeks at sea, something happened. The captain’s steward was badly injured in an accident. No one expected the steward to live through the night.

But one of the faithful sisters who had been attending to the dying sailor had a suggestion. She told the steward that Elder Lorenzo Snow could give him a blessing and that it might save his life. The steward—who was working to support his wife and two children back in Germany—eagerly agreed.

In the middle of the night, Elder Snow was awakened and asked to come to the dying man’s room. When he arrived, he met the captain of the ship. The captain thanked him for coming but expressed the hopelessness of the situation. Elder Snow could see that the captain had been crying.

He went into the room, laid his hands upon the steward’s head, and gave him a priesthood blessing. Immediately after Elder Snow finished the blessing, the man sat up and got out of bed. The steward was completely healed, and he returned to his duties the next day.

The healing of the steward changed things on board the Swanton. The captain began to spend as much time with the Saints as he could spare, and he even studied the gospel and attended Church meetings. The other sailors were just as impressed. When the ship reached its destination, the crew lovingly bid the Saints farewell. Through the power of the priesthood, not only was a man’s life saved, but several others were also given a glimpse of God’s power and love. The steward and many members of the crew were eventually baptized.

There have been times in my life when I felt as if there was no hope for me to be happy or to return to our Father in Heaven. Several years ago I was disfellowshipped from the Church. I had lived a life of pride and sin and had suffered greatly because of my actions. My engagement to the woman I loved didn’t work out, my relationships with others were suffering, and I wasn’t happy.
Although I wished I had chosen to be humble long before then, I was compelled to be humble and to seek to do the will of the Lord. I started to read the scriptures more frequently, to pray more often, and to seek to serve others. I tried to repair the relationships I had neglected for so long, including my relationship with Heavenly Father. I truly desired a change of heart.
It was early morning as I drove to school one day, and the sun was not yet up. The eastern horizon glowed, and the western horizon was dark, with a full moon descending behind it. I had developed the habit of conversing with my Heavenly Father while driving. As I prayed during this car ride, my mind was enlightened, and a new hope was placed within my heart.
I realized that my life was glowing and getting increasingly brighter, just like the eastern horizon. The darkness was dissipating, and my sins, which were as great as that full moon, were descending. They were not yet gone, but I knew that they soon would be if I continued my sincere repentance. I had hope that someday my life would be as bright as noonday.
With time and as I prayed for love for my Heavenly Father and others, I became more humble. Increased humility led me to serve God and others more selflessly, and my hope for eternal life and a better future was renewed and replenished. As that hope grew, so did my faith that my Savior, Jesus Christ, is mighty to save and to cleanse me from all unrighteousness. I know the words of Mormon are true: “Ye shall have hope through the atonement of Christ and the power of his resurrection, to be raised unto life eternal” (Moroni 7:41).

“One time my friends were going somewhere to smoke,” says Norelia, “and I said, ‘Remember what my religion is? I don’t do those things.’ Some of them have come to understand that smoking is a dirty habit and have tried to stop. They call me ‘the perfect one’ and always ask me for advice. I tell them I’m not perfect but I try to live the standards of my church. They respect my beliefs, and I think I have sown a few seeds that may be a source of strength to them someday.”

She was a young girl. She had sacrificed her worldly plans to spend long, tedious hours in work in order to provide for and raise her younger orphan brother. But now she lay on her bed, dying of a sickness. She called for her bishop, and as she talked to him in her last moments, he held her rough, hard, work-calloused hand in his. Then she asked the question “How will God know that I am his?”
Gently he raised her wrist and answered, “Show him your hands.”
Someday we may see that pair of hands that sacrificed so much for us. Are our hands clean, and do they show the signs of being in his service? Are our hearts pure and filled with his thoughts?

When I was younger, I had trouble falling asleep each night. It was frustrating to be so tired and still not be able to rest.
I talked to my parents about my struggle, and they suggested I switch out my pillows, move my head to the other side of the bed, and not be near any electronic devices before bedtime. But even after following their advice, I still couldn’t sleep!
Then my dad gave me one more suggestion that changed everything. He said, “When you say your nighttime prayers, just talk to Heavenly Father.”
So night after night, I began talking to Heavenly Father about my day. I would start with when I woke up and talk about everything that happened until right when I was in my bed. I told Him about people I saw, blessings I was grateful for, how pretty it was outside, and things that made me feel happy. I also told Him about things that were sad, like if I hurt my leg or made a mistake.
I wasn’t able to fall asleep right away, but I noticed that my relationship with my Heavenly Father was strengthening. He listened to me. He understood my high points and my low ones. He helped me feel calm enough to eventually fall asleep each night.
I am so grateful I could talk to Heavenly Father during those sleepless nights. I know He loves me and helps me, even with small things like helping me sleep.
Alyssa B., 19, Virginia, USA

A few weeks ago we had the opportunity of being in Suva, Fiji. I was surprised after registering at a motel to have the clerk look up and say, “Elder Ashton, could my husband and I and our children visit with you tonight?” I didn’t know that she knew who I was. Because we had meetings until ten o’clock in the evening, I told her the situation and she said, “We’ll come at ten o’clock in the evening.” And at ten o’clock in the evening this lady—and we will call her Jessie because that is her name (I would hate to try and pronounce her last name)—and her husband and six children crowded into our motel room.

After proper introductions and getting as comfortable as possible in almost impossible conditions, Jessie led off with this question. “Our son over here is nineteen years of age. The question we want to ask you, Elder Ashton, is, should we continue to save our money so that our son can go into the mission field, or should we continue to save our money so that some day all of us can go to the temple in New Zealand and be sealed to each other?”

My answer: “In the Church we do both.”

Another question. “Is it true that some missionaries can get money from other families for assistance when the missionary’s own family doesn’t have very much in the way of money?”

I said, “Yes, that is possible, but never deprive your family of the opportunity of taking part in some way to furnish money monthly to your son. Do not let that opportunity escape your family no matter how slight the contribution.” Brothers and sisters, money, like people, is only valuable when it is put to worthy purposes. In this case, money will be nothing more than a means to an end. It is not money, but a lack of it, that is making this family strong.

Just last Friday Sister Ashton and I had a letter from Suva, Fiji, indicating that the nineteen-year-old son was now in the mission field. I am pleased to add that to the remarks tonight.

As they worked and served together, the feeling in the Eagle Valley Ward changed. Sadness faded as they found joy in service.
A few years ago, the Eagle Valley Ward in Colorado, USA, experienced many trials of faith. Multiple members of the ward were dying, and their families needed strength and support. The ward could have been overshadowed by feelings of sadness but instead found joy in ministering.
“We were carried through by serving others,” said Karie Grayson, the Relief Society president at the time. One day, while visiting the home of an ill sister, Sister Grayson received a revelation on how to uplift this sister with the love of her ward.
“As my presidency and I sat there in the room visiting with her, we were each thinking, ‘What more can we do?’” said Sister Grayson. “An idea came to me. I knew right then and there what we should do.”
This sister loved flowers, so the ward brought life to her overgrown flower garden. Every Tuesday morning, members of the ward showed up to care for the garden.
Excitement to serve grew not only in the Eagle Valley Ward but also in the community. Individuals and companies throughout the area helped provide dirt, flowers, and a watering system.
“I feel like what we did was directed by Heavenly Father,” said Sister Grayson “There was a lot of work to be done, but there was a lot of laughter with everybody together. It was so fun.”
As they worked and served together, the feeling in the Eagle Valley Ward changed. Sadness faded as they found joy in service.
Bishop Greg Adair said, “As we all participated together, the ward started to feel like a family. This period of time was a trial for our ward, but we came together and helped one another.”
Sister Grayson said the ward bonded through service not because they had to but because they wanted to. And as they did, they found healing in their own struggles. “There was a powerful feeling in the ward,” she said. “When you change the hearts of individuals in the ward, you change the heart of the ward.”
Members of the Eagle Valley Ward were “willing to bear one another’s burdens, that they may be light … and comfort those that stand in need of comfort” (Mosiah 18:8–9).
“Serving together brings you closer,” said Bishop Adair. “It was easy to minister because we all knew each other well. Christ teaches us to love God and our neighbor, and as we try to do whatever calling we are asked to do, we knit ourselves together in love.”

“Mormons sometimes discriminate against other Mormons.”
This feeling was expressed in a recent rap between returned Latter-day Saint servicemen and institute students and faculty at Idaho State University. The returned servicemen were invited to talk to student and faculty leaders and tell them how they felt about the institute. The surface niceties were soon forgotten because these men were encouraged to talk frankly about their problems.
The result? A new program of help and encouragement and a resolution on the part of members of the Student Association to go out of their way to make any newcomer to the institute feel welcome.
The servicemen’s comments were accepted at face value by faculty and students alike. President Robert E. Thompson, president of the Idaho State University Stake, summed up the feelings of most when he said, “We have always felt that we were extending the hand of fellowship, that we were welcoming the returned servicemen, but when the truth came out, we found we were falling down. We didn’t realize that they needed something special, something extra. Whether we agree that their assessment of us is correct or not is not important. The important thing is, they feel they need something more and we are not providing it.”
The returned servicemen expressed their feelings of being left out, of finding no place or organization for them.
“When you have been treated like a second-class citizen for so long, you expect to get shoved off the street. I spent four years in the Navy, and the whole time was an intensive training period on catching the cold shoulder. So I’m probably more sensitive than most about recognizing it,” said Terry Van Orden.
Of course, the problem is more complex than it seems. There are many reasons returned servicemen feel as they do.
“A soldier is often in a poor environment. It is unfortunate, but the worst of mankind seems to reveal itself during war. And maybe this is the reason returned servicemen don’t feel equal to returned missionaries. Missionaries are in a situation to see the most beautiful and uplifting parts of mankind; military people see the opposite. This naturally created a state of inequity in my mind; I didn’t feel as good as if I had been serving on a mission. And, of course, I wasn’t treated the same as a returned missionary. But the most important difference to me was that difference inside of me.
“For the first while it was natural for me to be hostile and suspect that people were not sincere because this is what I had been conditioned to expect. But finally I had to get hold of myself and say, ‘Look, these people are trying to help you, and they want to be your friends.’ It took me a while to realize this, but when I did, the change started happening to me, and I began to come around,” said Warren Mallen, a Vietnam veteran.
One ex-Navy man said, “I kept my testimony all the time I was in the service, but when I came back to my home ward, I didn’t feel accepted, and so I became totally inactive. Now because of this special effort at the institute, I really feel that I am on my way back.”
Of course, adjustments back to regular religious life have not all been negative. “The first few days at the institute were a pain in the neck for me because people were unfriendly. So I decided that I had to get involved. I got involved in everything I could, and soon people seemed more friendly,” commented Craig Naylor.
“I went into the service with four of my best buddies,” added Chip Herndon, an ex-marine who was wounded several times and spent a total of sixteen months in hospitals. “One stayed in and the other three died while they were in the service. So I felt like burying myself in the Church when I got home. I had a lot of time alone in the service, and I didn’t like being by myself. I was real glad to be active in the Church, even though it is still hard for me to open up at times.”
The institute panel learned other things about returned servicemen. They learned that there are more than a hundred of them on their campus alone who do not even feel welcome or wanted enough to let others know they are Latter-day Saints, let alone set foot in an institute class.
They learned that being busy and preoccupied with your own studies and assignments can easily be misinterpreted by someone else. “I’ve tried to come here several times during the last two years,” said Terry Van Orden, “but I couldn’t get used to walking down the hall and seeing my people walk by with their chins in the air.”
Those listening to the panel realized that it is common for people to prejudge others. Just as returned missionaries are loved, ex-servicemen are looked on with suspicion. “Talk to any mother; they will all tell you they would rather have their daughters associating with a missionary than with a serviceman,” commented one person. The group feeling was unanimous: “People don’t look at you as a person first and a serviceman second. They don’t care what kind of person you are; most people won’t even give you a chance.”
They talked about specific problems that seem to keep returned servicemen from trying to get back into Church life. Some haven’t been keeping the standards, and they feel they need help from someone who can understand them. Others expressed the idea that it is only natural after feeling the spirit of true love and brotherhood from sincere people to want to reevaluate their own lives.
As a result of this session, a special seminar is held regularly at the institute. Some twenty returned servicemen are now attending, and they have been assured that they are loved and wanted. Here they discuss everything from the gospel principles to career advice to how to combat the feeling that girls are afraid of them. During the seminar they are making friends and beginning to feel at home at the institute.
Discovering how any child of God should be treated was one benefit of the returned servicemen’s session and its resulting seminar. People now understand and practice the quintessence of the gospel. Once these wonderful principles were applied, the servicemen’s seminar became a living, breathing part of the Student Association at Idaho State University. At the same time it promises to be a very important missionary tool.
Institute students and faculty learned several important lessons from this experience that could help you not only to relate better to others but also to be a better follower of the Savior.
“We should not be interested in the history of a person’s problems. If a guy is smoking, we are not going to put him down for that. We simply need to let him know that we are his brothers and sisters, that we want to help him, and that we care about him. We are not interested in what he was but in what he can become.”
“Many people are basically shy and have a hard time communicating—not the passing-the-time-of-day kind of talk, but really expressing their feelings from deep down inside. In order to do this they have to want to express their feelings and then feel comfortable about how they will be received.”
“It is easy for people who are extra sensitive to feel that they are being looked down on. In addition to the servicemen, non–Latter-day Saints on this campus feel that the Mormons are cliquish and that we look down on them because they are different.”
“Those returned servicemen who seemed to feel the best adjusted were welcomed back into their home wards with a ward party. Then they were asked to report to the bishop and the stake high council about their experiences and their conduct as ward members while they were away. This personal interest made them feel accepted and on more of a par with others in the ward who were returning from school or missions.”
“The most positive experiences these brethren had while they were in the service were when others reacted to them first as people and then as soldiers or sailors, not the reverse.”
Whether in the United States or Japan, people belonging to branches were generally more friendly than people in wards. An ex-sailor said, “One sister in a little branch in Japan kept a three-by-five-inch card for every serviceman who visited there. She and her husband would take you home, and you knew you really had a friend and a place to go if you were ever there again. This kind of experience is the gospel in action to a serviceman.”
“Many returned servicemen have experienced what they call a crash course in growing up. Even though they may be the same age chronologically as other students, they had to grow up under fire on a night patrol or crouched in a bunker with mortar rounds zeroing in on top of them, and so they have good reason for seeming a little older and a little more serious in many ways.
“Because of these kinds of memories, it is harder for them to be as light-hearted and gay as the average college student. They require more drawing out than most.
“It is natural when we see a person from a minority race at the institute to sort of go out of our way to be friendly. But we often tend to by-pass the average-looking student because there are so many of them.”
“There are many Latter-day Saint returned servicemen on this campus, but you can’t recognize them. You go to the student union building and you know that some of the people you see are returned servicemen, and yet you don’t know which ones. We have had some success in locating them by working through the registrars office and also by asking returned servicemen. Terry knew twenty Latter-day Saint returned servicemen on campus who were not affiliated with the Church in any way.”