Gospel Story Finder

“I don’t want to go to Grandma’s cabin,” Jacob cried.
“Jacob,” Mom said gently, “I know going there will be hard, but we want to do this for Grandma. We’ve always celebrated your birthday at the cabin.”
“But that was before … before … Grandpa died.”
“I know,” Mom said. “We’re all sad about losing Grandpa, so we need to help each other. We’ll get through this together, OK?”
“OK,” he said softly.
Jacob had always looked forward to being at the cabin together. He and Grandpa had been fishing buddies. But now Grandpa was gone.
“There’s Grandma and Big Red!” Mom said the next day as they pulled into the cabin’s driveway. Dad and Mom hopped out of the car to hug and kiss Grandma. Big Red barked and wagged his tail.
Jacob took his time getting out of the car. With dragging feet, he slowly approached Grandma.
“Oh, I’m so glad you came,” Grandma said, hugging him.
“I love you, Grandma,” Jacob said softly.
When Jacob walked inside the cabin, he saw a fire crackling in the fireplace. The table was set, and colorful balloons and streamers were everywhere. A big banner over the fireplace read, “Happy Birthday, Jacob!”
Jacob tried to look happy, but memories of Grandpa were everywhere. It just hurt so much that he wasn’t here. Jacob bit his lip to keep the tears back.
After dinner Grandma brought in Jacob’s birthday cake with 11 twinkling candles. “Make a wish and blow out the candles,” she said.
Jacob felt a stab of sadness remembering how Grandpa always put one trick candle on his cake. He blew hard. All the candles went out. Then one sputtered and lit up again. Everyone laughed.
“I couldn’t let your birthday pass without playing Grandpa’s silly little trick on you,” Grandma said.
After cake, Grandma gave Jacob a birthday card. “Grandpa wanted me to give this to you.”
Jacob noticed her tears. He took the card. “Could I open it by myself outside?” he asked quietly.
“That would be just fine,” Grandma said.
When Jacob came back inside, his eyes were red, but he smiled and said, “Grandpa said I could have his fishing rod and his good reel.”
“Yes, I know.” Grandma took the rod off the pole rack and handed it to Jacob. “Grandpa found a new lake last summer. He asked me to take you there for your birthday.”
The next morning Jacob and Grandma loaded their fishing gear in the car. As soon as Big Red saw they were ready to leave, he took one leap and landed in the seat next to Jacob. Grandma’s laughter and happy memories of Grandpa lightened Jacob’s heart as they drove to the lake.
“Hang on,” Grandma said as the car bounced over the road. “We’ll have to hike now,” she said, stopping the car.
After they’d walked for a while, Grandma stopped and pointed ahead. “There’s the lake. You can see it just through those trees.” She sat down under a big tree with a book. “I’ll stay here and watch. Big Red will go with you, but call out if you need anything.”
Jacob was glad Grandma was letting him go to the shore alone. It made him feel closer to Grandpa.
Two hours later Jacob came trudging back to Grandma with Big Red romping beside him.
“Any luck?” Grandma called.
Jacob frowned and shook his head. But then he pulled his hand out from behind his back. “Ta da!” He held up his line with five beautiful trout dangling from it.
“Native cutthroats!” Grandma said. Those were Grandpa’s favorite trout. “We’ll fry them up for dinner.”
“Grandma, it was great down there,” Jacob said as he sat down beside her. “Next time will you come with me? Maybe we could be fishing buddies.”
“I’d like that,” Grandma said.
Jacob wrapped his arms around Big Red. “I felt like Grandpa was with me.” Tears slowly trickled down his face. “I cried really hard, but then I felt like I could talk to him.” He looked at Grandma, and she was crying too.
“I didn’t want to come here for my birthday because of Grandpa, but now I’m glad I did.”
Grandma stared up at the trees. “I felt that way too. I cried a lot the first day I was up here.” Grandma put her arm around him. “It’s all right to be sad. Even though we know Grandpa is in a good place, we miss him, don’t we?”
Jacob nodded. They sat quietly for a long time, thinking about Grandpa and enjoying the mountains he had loved.
“Let’s go, shall we?” Grandma finally said. “We’ve got to get ready for our fish fry tonight.”
Jacob reached down to help Grandma up. Big Red raced ahead of them to the car. “This is the happiest but saddest birthday I’ve ever had. Does that make sense?”
“That makes perfectly good sense to me.”
“I’m thankful that Heavenly Father gave me such a good grandpa,” Jacob said.
“Oh, yes. I am too.”
“And you know what? I’m thankful He gave me a wonderful grandma like you.”
We all grieve (or react to death) in different ways.
There’s no one way to feel. You might feel angry or lonely or numb. You might not cry or even feel sad right away.
It might take a long time to not feel so sad. Even after grief fades, it can still come back.
It’s OK to have fun or laugh or feel happy. It doesn’t mean you don’t love the person who died.
Even if you trust Heavenly Father and know you’ll see your loved ones again, you can still be sad when they die.
It’s OK to talk about and remember the person who died, even if it makes you feel sad.
When Lazarus died, Jesus knew He would bring Lazarus back to life. But Jesus still wept (see John 11:32–36). Jesus cares when we are sad. Because of His Atonement, He understands our grief (see Alma 7:11–12).
Write a letter of things you wish you could say to the person who died.
Make a memory box of keepsakes or photos.
Talk to someone else who loved the person.
Draw a picture of the person or of your family now.
If you know someone who is grieving, show you love them, even if you don’t know what to say. Spend time with them, let them talk if they want, and help them in little ways.

Not many years ago, Elder Robert D. Hales gave a powerful illustration of this principle. He said,
When I was a boy, I used to ride my bicycle home from basketball practice at night. I would connect a small pear-shaped generator to my bicycle tire. Then as I pedaled, the tire would turn a tiny rotor, which produced electricity and emitted a single, welcome beam of light. It was a simple but effective mechanism. But I had to pedal to make it work! I learned quickly that if I stopped pedaling my bicycle, the light would go out. I also learned that when I was “anxiously engaged” in pedaling, the light would become brighter and the darkness in front of me would be dispelled.
The generation of spiritual light comes from daily spiritual pedaling. It comes from praying, studying the scriptures, fasting, and serving—from living the gospel and obeying the commandments.
Sometimes people ask, “Why do I have to go to sacrament meeting?” or “Why do I have to live the Word of Wisdom, pay tithing? Why can’t I have one foot in Babylon?” May I tell you why? Because spiritual pedaling takes both feet! Unless you are fully engaged in living the gospel—living it with all of your “heart, might, mind and strength”—you cannot generate enough spiritual light to push back the darkness.

“When I was six years old, my parents had me start taking piano lessons. My father never said if you go on a mission, but always reminded me that when I became a missionary, I could serve the Saints well if I could accompany their singing and thus contribute to their music. As I grew older, I became the stake organist and played for stake meetings and activities. When I went on my mission, I was able to accompany the Saints on the piano whenever it was necessary. Even today, when we meet in our Quorum meeting or in the temple, I occasionally accompany the Brethren as they sing. I encourage boys as well as girls to learn to play the piano.

In March 2012, three months after my conversion and baptism into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I entered the bishop’s office to ask him questions about the Johannesburg Temple where he had recently visited. He calmly said, with real assurance and firm conviction: “Brother, the temple is heaven!” Now, seven years later, in 2019, my eternal companion and I have just completed 12 months of service as full-time temple workers in the Johannesburg South Africa Temple. Looking back, what seemed at the time to be an excessive zeal on the part of our bishop became—over the course of my Church service—my own fervent reality of faith, and a grasp of an inner and personal understanding: The temple is literally the house of Heavenly Father here on earth.

When I was 14, my father was diagnosed with cancer. Doctors estimated that with chemotherapy, he had a 50 percent chance of living eight years or longer. Since the alternatives were even less encouraging, my father decided to suffer through the six months of weekly treatments.
At the end of the chemotherapy, my ward in Bountiful held a special fast for my father. It was a marvelous experience to join in faith for a common cause. When the diagnosis came back, the doctors could find no sign of cancer. After I left for my mission, I received letters from my father telling me of his continued improvements and how he even ran a marathon. Things seemed to be going well.
The summer before my mission ended, I was serving with a missionary named Elder Causse. He was from a branch in Bourdeaux, France, a place I had once considered “out there in the mission field.”
One morning my mission president called me into his office and told me my father would be calling. When the phone rang, the president excused himself and left me alone. I was apprehensive as I picked up the phone.
My father greeted me, then told me his cancer had relapsed. He would again go through chemotherapy. I then spoke to my mother, who told me our ward was going to fast again. I said I would join in the fast as well. After I hung the phone up, I wiped away a few tears and walked out of the office.
On the way back to our assigned area, I explained the situation to Elder Causse. He promised to fast with me, and his promise gave me comfort. But he did not stop there. He wrote to his family in France and told them what had happened. They, too, said that they would fast for my father and that they would ask the members of the Bourdeaux Branch to join the fast as well. I was astounded that they would fast for the health of a man they did not know.
At that moment, the Spirit spoke softly to me, and suddenly I understood what it means to be “fellow-citizens with the saints, and of the household of God” (Eph. 2:19). We are of one faith, united in the gospel with bonds stronger than illness or death. We are truly brothers and sisters. None of us is a stranger, no matter what land we happen to worship in.

You could say 17-year-old Chris S. of Florida danced his way into the Church, but that’s not totally correct. Actually, it was the people he danced with who introduced him to the gospel. Chris is part of a troupe that performs Panamanian folk dances, and two of his best friends, Rebecca and Joshua R., who are also in the group, invited him to come to church.
“One time we started talking about the Church, and I just told him more about it, and he seemed really interested,” Rebecca says. “I told my parents about it, and they said we should invite him to church.” So one day they invited Chris to come, and he accepted.
“I asked my parents, and they said I could go,” Chris remembers. He also remembers how well received he was. “I was kind of nervous. But once I came, everyone was so warm and welcoming. It was nice to be there, and I felt comfortable.”
Soon Chris began meeting with the missionaries. “When they came over, they taught me a lesson and gave me a Book of Mormon,” he says. “They told me to read and pray, and I did. I didn’t feel anything at first, but then later on as I prayed, I felt great because it was like something inside of me was really warm. I know that was the Spirit, and it was a great feeling.”
Chris continued learning and decided to be baptized. “After being baptized, I received the Holy Ghost, received the Aaronic Priesthood, and was ordained a priest,” he says. “I felt special knowing that I am in God’s Church and that He loves me.”

Toby looked down at the ring Jerome had slipped onto his third finger. “It will keep us close while I am on my mission,” Jerome had said, smiling down at his 10-year-old brother.
Toby knew how special this ring was to Jerome. Their great-uncle had made it and given it to him when he was ordained to the priesthood. The band was silver, and Uncle had painstakingly carved “LDS” out of turquoise and attached it to the band. Toby had never seen the ring off Jerome’s finger. “I won’t take it off my finger until I return it to you in two years,” he had promised his handsome missionary brother.
“Get up, Wind Wolf,” Grandfather called early the next morning. He used Toby’s Indian name only when he wanted him to hurry. “Today we must plant the corn, and old Grandfather Sun will scorch our backs if we do not begin soon.”
Toby quickly dressed, ate a biscuit, drank a glass of milk, and hurried outside. He loved helping Grandfather plant the corn, and he knew that if he kept busy, he wouldn’t miss Jerome as much.
Grandfather dug holes with the narrow, wooden spade that he had made himself. Toby crawled along the rows, dropping two kernels of corn into each hole from the leather pouch he wore around his neck. The sun caused bright sparkles to dance across the silver band on Jerome’s ring, making Toby squint at times.
When all the corn had been planted, Toby and Grandfather looked around at the large plot, pleased with their work.
Still on his knees, Toby reached up to wipe his forehead. He gasped, “Jerome’s ring! It’s gone!” He jumped up, looking frantically.
Grandfather placed his hand on Toby’s shoulder. “Nothing will be accomplished by acting like a chicken with its head cut off. You walk up and down these rows and look for the ring. I will do the same on the rows over there.”
But they did not find the ring.
“Oh, Grandfather, what can I do? The ring means so much to Jerome.”
“There is One who knows where the ring is,” Grandfather said, kneeling on the ground.
Of course! Heavenly Father knew where the ring was. He would help them find it. Toby knelt beside his wise grandfather.
“Now I am sure that I will find it,” Toby said. He got up and began to slowly walk up and down each row again.
But the ring still couldn’t be found.
“Why doesn’t Heavenly Father show me where the ring is?” Toby asked impatiently. “He knows that Jerome is serving him.”
“We will ask again tonight and look again tomorrow,” Grandfather said.
The next morning Toby was on his hands and knees when the sun cast its first beams across the field. He crawled along each row, looking desperately for the ring. Grandfather found him slumped against the hogan.
“Grandfather, I have prayed many times and have gone over every inch of the cornfield. Why doesn’t Heavenly Father show me where it is?”
“Heavenly Father knows where the ring is, Toby. If he wants us to find it, we will—but in his own time.”
“Why wouldn’t he want me to find it right now?”
“Maybe there is something you need to find even more than the ring,” Grandfather answered.
“What would I need to find more than Jerome’s ring?”
“That is something you must find out for yourself.”
Sometimes Grandfather doesn’t make any sense, Toby thought. If my prayer isn’t answered right now, the ring will be lost forever.
But it was not found that day, either.
Each morning Toby got up early and made his way slowly and carefully through the cornfield, hoping to find at last the turquoise and silver ring. But he found nothing. He was very discouraged, but he continued to ask Heavenly Father to help him.
“Why don’t you fast about it?” suggested his good friend Vincent.
Toby remembered the lesson his Primary teacher had given on fasting and on how miracles may happen when fasting and prayer are used together. He had thought that fasting was just for grown-ups. The more he thought about it now, however, the more he liked the idea.
It was hard going to school without breakfast, and even harder when all his friends brought out their lunches. But at the end of the school day, he felt good inside. He did not find the ring as he went through the cornfield that evening, but he did find peace. He felt very close to Heavenly Father.
One early morning a few weeks later, Toby heard his grandfather call, “Wind Wolf, come quickly!”
Toby ran outside wondering what was wrong. “Where are you, Grandfather?”
“Here in the cornfield.”
“What is it? Is something wrong?”
Grandfather pointed at a small, green plant sticking up through the brown soil.
“Jerome’s ring!” Toby fell on his hands and knees to see better. The bright, green cornstalk had grown through the silver band and lifted the ring right out of the ground. “It is as if the cornstalk is handing it to me.” Toby carefully lifted it from the tender seedling.
That evening when Grandfather was hoeing in the cornfield, Toby wanted to be near him. “Grandfather, you are very wise.”
“Many years make much experience; much experience makes much wisdom.” Grandfather smiled at Toby.
“I think I know now what it was that I needed to find more than Jerome’s ring.”
Grandfather sat down and leaned against a fence post. “Tell me,” he said, motioning for Toby to sit beside him.
“Well, if I had found Jerome’s ring right away, I would never have prayed all the times I did. I knew that I really needed Heavenly Father’s help, so I prayed differently than I usually do. I really talked to him. And when I fasted, I felt really good.”
“So what did you find, my grandson?”
“I found Heavenly Father’s love for me, Grandfather.” Neither Toby nor Grandfather said anything for a time. Then Grandfather said, “Tomorrow you must write to your brother about his first convert.”

The Crittenden family of the 18th North Ward, Eagle Gate Stake, in the heart of Salt Lake City, work hard. That’s all there is to it. But you never hear them complain. In fact, they’re often right there volunteering, doing a number of things that most people don’t hear about.

They work hard outside of church too. Fourteen-year-old David has a paper route and is looking forward to the time he’ll be old enough to start at McDonald’s. Seventeen-year-old Lisa is in demand as a baby-sitter, has worked at a department store, and takes on various other jobs in the summer. Their mother Judy works as a secretary at an elementary school, also works in the department store, and helps David with his paper route.

Lisa and David’s parents were divorced about 11 years ago. But you won’t hear them complain about that, either. “We were so young when the divorce happened that we don’t really remember what it’s like to have a dad around all the time,” says Lisa.

Among the things they do have that bring them together as a family are their pets. There are three terrier poodles and a cat to care for, and they love it. When one dog had puppies, the family helped and watched in awe.

The Church brings them close, too. You can often find Lisa helping her mother, the ward greeter, at the chapel door, handing out programs. David is usually one of the first to volunteer to pass the sacrament, and the family is very supportive of Lisa in her duties as first counselor in the Laurel presidency and as devotional counselor in seminary. Also, the time they spend praying and reading the scriptures together is a real unifier.

Of course this is not a fairy tale family. They have their fair share of spats. David felt like he had to work forever to pay Lisa back for her Walkman that got broken when he borrowed it. And Lisa and her mother are not always in agreement about who uses the car and when.

But those kinds of things are inevitable. Every family has disputes—it goes with the territory. But so can love and unity and support. They can be there if you work for them. And working hard in one area can teach you to work hard in the others. The Crittendens know that with the Lord’s help they can work their way through anything that comes along.

Many leaders on the ward or branch and the stake or district level plan events that bring young women and Relief Society sisters together. Diana Gardner of the Harrogate Ward, York England Stake, says that Laurels were invited to go to the temple to do baptisms on a night when their ward Relief Society sisters were performing endowments. “The Laurels and Relief Society sisters were eating dinner at the cafeteria together and walking around the temple grounds together. Their discussions have had a major impact on the young women,” says Sister Gardner.

I remember taking a trip to fulfill a speaking engagement at a great convention in Omaha. In reporting the event, the Omaha World Herald showed Bonnie, our third daughter, who later became Relief Society president at eighteen years of age, in a picture on the front page and reported her father’s speech on the back page. This trip was reported in some detail at the weekly home evening of the family.

Another family joy was to have guests in our home. At such times we always tried to arrange to have the children at the table also, to participate in the delightful conversation of the evening. The impression made on a judge and national farm leader as our daughter Barbara, age nine, led in family prayer at our dinner table was reported later by this beloved leader at a meeting of farm, labor, and business leaders in Florida.

Our president, Howard W. Hunter, has had many adversities, and his stalwart determination to overcome and grow through them is an inspiring example for all of us. After his wife, Clare, had a devastating stroke, Elder Hunter took care of her for many years before her death. Despite the heavy demands of his calling, his personal, loving care for his disabled wife was an inspiring model for all of us. In the years that followed he has surmounted about a dozen life-threatening illnesses and physical impairments. From each new challenge he has emerged with added power and patience and sweetness. In addressing the Church last October he acknowledged God’s miraculous hand in his life:
He has repeatedly spared my life and restored my strength, has repeatedly brought me back from the edge of eternity, and has allowed me to continue in my mortal ministry for another season. I have wondered on occasion why my life has been spared. [“Exceeding Great and Precious Promises,” Ensign, November 1994, p. 7]
The Lord’s purposes have been served by the adversities given to Howard W. Hunter, and I believe that one of those purposes has been to give each of us a highly visible example of what the surmounting of mortal adversities can do for the refinement of an eternal soul.

Then, several years later, after I had moved from home, I faced a serious crisis that left me with deep emotional and spiritual pain. Without the necessary faith in Christ to guide me, I felt lost and alone. I had stopped praying sometime earlier and had just recently decided that I would no longer go to church.
Just at that point in my life, my home teachers, Dan and Terry, came by. I was a little embarrassed because I hadn’t been to church that day and had no good excuse for my absence. The Spirit told them that something was seriously wrong, so they persisted in presenting a lesson that seemed to be especially for me. They visited with me for a while, and when it was time for them to go, they offered a powerful prayer. The Spirit lingered after them for a short time, and I felt more hopeful than I had in a long time.
I wanted that Spirit to remain. I gathered up the remnants of my faith and offered a prayer. Because I hadn’t been praying for a while, I had no real hope or expectation of an answer. But as I knelt and prayed, a black cloud lifted, and I felt an overpowering warmth come into my heart. Complete love and understanding filled the room. I was surprised at the depth and strength of the Savior’s love—how well he knew me!
There was no room for misunderstanding or doubt as he lovingly empathized with my challenges. All of a sudden, words came into my mind, telling me where I could improve. And the Savior promised me all the help I would need. I learned that there is indeed a loving Heavenly Father and a Savior, Jesus Christ, and that they know each of us as individuals. I also learned that they will give us the help we need as we extend our faith in them. And I knew that, no matter what, we must always pray.
Although I still had problems to overcome, I knew the Savior was there, ready to help. I have never felt completely alone with my problems since. I can now say, along with the hymn, “I know that my Redeemer lives.” And I am grateful.

“Mrs. Ramirez, who is that?” Sydney asked, pointing to a girl sitting at a desk. She had never seen this girl in their class.
Mrs. Ramirez smiled. “That’s our new student, Yulia. Yulia just moved here from Ukraine. We’re excited she’s here.”
Sydney looked at Yulia. She looked scared. Sydney knew she would be afraid if she moved to a new country. That would be hard!
Sydney went and sat next to Yulia. Smiling, she said, “Hi. My name is Sydney.”
Yulia timidly smiled back but didn’t say anything. Sydney tried to talk to her, but Yulia just shook her head.
“She doesn’t speak English,” Sydney thought. “She needs help!”
Throughout the day Sydney was Yulia’s buddy. She showed Yulia around the school and helped her with classwork.
At lunch, Sydney asked Yulia, “Do you want to play with me?” She pointed to the playground to help Yulia understand. Yulia smiled and nodded. They played together for all of lunch recess.
Sydney began teaching Yulia lots of English words. She wanted to help Yulia feel more comfortable talking to people. Sometimes it was hard to understand each other, but the two girls soon became good friends.
In class a few weeks later, the girls were drawing a picture together. Sydney drew flowers and insects while Yulia drew grass and trees.
“We made a beautiful garden!” Sydney said when they finished.
Yulia smiled. “Yes, it is pretty. I like to draw.”
Mrs. Ramirez came over to their desks. “What a beautiful picture! I’m glad you two are working together.” She took their drawing and taped it on the class bulletin board. The girls smiled proudly.
One day when Sydney got home from school, her mom said, “Mrs. Ramirez called. She wanted to let you know that Yulia is in the hospital. She is having surgery on her heart tomorrow. She’ll be in the hospital for a while to recover.”
Sydney thought about Yulia the next day during school. She looked at their drawing on the bulletin board. That gave her an idea.
After school, Sydney told her mom, “I want to take Yulia something to cheer her up after her surgery. She liked drawing in class. Maybe we can take her some art supplies.”
“That’s a great idea!” Mom said.
Sydney and her mom bought a drawing pad and some bright crayons. Sydney couldn’t wait to give them to Yulia. A few days later, Sydney and Mom went to the hospital. They found Yulia’s room and knocked on the door.
Yulia’s mom opened it and smiled. “Please come in. Yulia is resting.”
Yulia turned as they entered the room. Her face was pale, and she looked tired. “Hi, Sydney.”
Sydney pulled out the drawing pad and crayons. She shyly set them on the bed next to Yulia. “I thought these might help you feel better.”
Yulia’s eyes lit up. She reached for the crayons. “Thank you! I really like to draw. Can we draw right now?”
“Sure!”
Sydney pulled a chair over to the side of the bed. The two girls laughed and talked together while they colored. Sydney was glad they had come to visit Yulia. When she and her mom left the hospital, Sydney had a warm feeling in her heart. She was glad she had helped make her friend happy.

During the summer before our son Josh's junior year of high school he began experiencing painful headaches. We thought he was experiencing a prolonged sinus infection, but after visiting many doctors and seeing no improvement, a doctor finally ordered an MRI. To our shock and horror, when we looked at the scans, we discovered he had multiple brain tumors—cancer spreading throughout his brain cavity. These tumors were unrelated to the one he had when he was five. One doctor told us that the odds of having two different types of brain tumors were something like one in 150 million! One of these tumors was blocking the brain fluid from draining properly and that was what was causing his headaches.

A local doctor did immediate surgery, inserting a fairly large shunt at the base of his skull in order to alleviate the pressure caused by the accumulation of fluid in his brain cavity. They then did a second surgery, also through the top of the skull, in order to take a biopsy to determine if the tumors were malignant or benign. That surgery failed to get a proper biopsy, and we found ourselves back at Primary Children's Hospital in Salt Lake City, where, after a third surgery, it was determined that his tumors were indeed malignant. That meant months of chemotherapy and radiation treatment. He spent his entire junior year of High School receiving treatment. Fortunately, Josh responded amazingly well to both treatments in the intervening months, and by the end of his Junior year of high school he was cancer free! We were again, deeply grateful for this blessing.

In our experience with Josh he was a great example of enduring cheerfully. He literally never complained once through the whole ordeal. His Mom and I were certainly not at that level of endurance, and I'm sure I would have done my fair share of complaining had the roles been reversed. Nearly every picture we have of him during his chemotherapy treatments shows him smiling. I couldn't personally imagine going through chemotherapy and radiation treatment and still smiling? This is a picture of Josh with his youngest brother towards the end of his treatment. Now, there were tough days. He certainly wasn't always smiling during times of painful treatment and suffering. But he seemed to remain optimistic and even "cheerful" throughout the experience.

But no team’s members will be more loyal to each other, their coaches, and their fans than the priests quorum of the Kagiso Ward, Soweto South Africa Stake, even though they won’t be playing for the World Cup. A little over a year ago, six of these young men were introduced to the Church by their football coach, who is himself a recent convert. Now they are at the heart of another “team”—their priests quorum—and working with another “coach”—their bishop—as they live the gospel day by day and prepare to serve as full-time missionaries.
Like many people in South Africa, 29-year-old Solomon Eliya Tumane loves football. He spends tireless hours each week coaching the Hurricanes Football Club. He loves his players and rejoices in their successes. They love and respect him in return. So when Coach Solomon joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, his players were curious.
“He would come to practice straight from his institute class,” says McDonald Siyabulela Manyakanyaka, 17. “We could see the scriptures and Church magazines in his bag, so we started asking questions, and to answer, he would read to us,” says Thapelo Benjamin Sesinyi, 17.
“I was eager to teach these young ones because I love them so much,” Coach Solomon says. “I want them to go in the right path. I told one of them, ‘You would do well if you read the scriptures,’ so they all started reading the scriptures. They enjoyed it, so then I taught them about prayer. Then one day they surprised me. I got to practice early, and I was taking a nap when they woke me and said, ‘Coach, we need to visit your church.’ That was a day I will never forget, because I knew then that they were on the right path.”
But the coach wouldn’t go further without parental approval. He went to each player’s home, one at a time, to ask if it was all right to invite the players to church. The parents agreed. “We came to church three weeks in a row,” Thapelo remembers. “We wanted to learn more and more.” So the coach again asked parents for permission, this time for the players to study with the full-time missionaries. Again the parents agreed.
“The missionaries gave us each a copy of the Book of Mormon,” McDonald says. “They told us to read it and pray about it because it is true, so we did. I prayed and read and found the Book of Mormon to be true.” So did other players, who were then baptized and confirmed. Five of the team members are now Latter-day Saints.
Most teams set goals for a winning season, but these five young Hurricanes are also shooting for another goal in the not-too-distant future. With the guidance of Bishop Bongani Mahlubi, a man they consider a spiritual coach, they are preparing for full-time missionary service.
“They are a great strength in our ward,” the bishop says. “And they are part of that great priesthood team of Aaronic and Melchizedek Priesthood holders all over the world. These young men do everything together—they walk to school together, play football together, go to seminary together, and serve in the priesthood together. If I call one young man to ask if he can help, I get all five.” McDonald says the priests quorum also studies regularly from Preach My Gospel, and Thapelo says that in addition to inviting friends to church, quorum members seek out those who no longer attend. “In many ways, we are learning to be missionaries now,” he says.
“We often hear from these young men in testimony meeting,” the bishop says. “They often promise Coach Solomon that they will go on full-time missions.” Nothing would make their football coach happier. “I can’t wait for them to serve,” Solomon says.
Unity, gospel knowledge, and an orientation toward service—those are all part of a solid training regime for prospective missionaries. And in addition, these young men have already developed a great desire to work together to do good. Just like the football teams competing for the World Cup, they depend on each other, on their coaches, and on their fans (including ward members, families, and friends) to get them through to their “championship.” With that kind of team spirit, their goals will be achieved.

At times we may think that no one cares—but someone always cares! Your Heavenly Father will not leave you to struggle alone but stands ever ready to help. Most often such assistance comes quietly, at other times with dramatic impact. Elder Marion D. Hanks, some years ago, related an account of one who received such assistance. He told of a young divorced woman, the mother of seven children then ranging in ages from five to 16. One evening she went across the street to deliver something to a neighbor. She indicated later that as she turned to walk back home, she could see her house lighted up. She could hear echoes of her children as she had walked out of the door a few minutes earlier: “Mom, what are we going to have for dinner?” “Can you take me to the library?” “Mom, I have to get some poster paper tonight.” Tired and weary, she thought of all of those children who were home waiting for her to come home and meet their needs. She said that at that moment her burdens felt very heavy on her shoulders.

She recalled looking through tears toward the sky, and she said, “O my Father, I just can’t handle things tonight. I’m too tired. I can’t face it. I can’t go home and take care of all those children alone. Could I come to You and stay with You for just one night? I’ll come back in the morning.”

She didn’t really hear the words of reply, but she heard them in her mind. The answer was, “No, little one, you can’t come to me now, for you would never wish to return. But I can come to you.”

The night before our oldest son left for his mission, we put together “the family slide show”—the best and funniest pictures of our family for 20 years. At the end of the show, we knelt in prayer together. There were plenty of tears and hugs that night. No more curtain climbers or rug rats—just imperfect young men and young women, and their imperfect parents, who felt an honest love for each other. And those feelings have kept growing.

I have learned this truth through a personal experience that, though seemingly insignificant, left a lasting impression on me. At the age of 22, while serving in the French Air Force in Paris, I was thrilled to learn that Elder Neal A. Maxwell, an Apostle of the Lord, would be speaking at a conference on the Champs-Élysées. However, just before the event, I received orders to drive a senior officer to the airport at the exact time the conference was set to take place.

I was disappointed. But determined to attend, I dropped the officer off and rushed to the conference. After finding a parking spot, I sprinted down the Champs-Élysées to the meeting place and arrived breathless with only five minutes left before the meeting ended. Just as I entered, I heard Elder Maxwell say, “I will now give you an apostolic blessing.” In that instant, I had a beautiful, unforgettable spiritual experience. I was overcome by the Spirit, and the words of the blessing seemed to penetrate every fiber of my soul as though they were meant just for me.

What I experienced that day was a small yet powerful manifestation of a comforting aspect of God’s plan for His children: When circumstances beyond our control prevent us from fulfilling the righteous desires of our hearts, the Lord will compensate in ways that allow us to receive His promised blessings.

But one time I felt loneliest was on my mission in Guadalajara, Mexico. I had arrived only a few days before, and I didn’t speak much Spanish. My companion spoke only Spanish. We mostly communicated through the few words I’d learned at the missionary training center and with a lot of pointing. To top it off, our apartment temporarily didn’t have electricity or hot water. I was out of my comfort zone, big time, and I felt so alone.
Heavenly Father sent an angel to strengthen His Son in His suffering. And He will strengthen us in our loneliness. On my mission, we were sent “angels” in the form of members in the ward, who offered us warm blankets, showers, and food right when it meant the most to me.

When I was 14 years old, I played on a competitive club volleyball team. On one particular weekend the team traveled to a tournament in Denver, Colorado. This tournament was the first time I had ever gone on a trip without my parents. I was nervous and did not really want to go. My mom suggested that I ask my dad for a father’s blessing the night before I left, and my dad gave me a blessing of peace.
My team drove to Denver on Friday, and then on Saturday morning the tournament began. My team played really well and had a great position going into the championship matches the next day. On Saturday night I reminded my coaches that I did not play volleyball on Sundays. Due to the importance of the Sunday championships, my coaches were not happy being reminded of my decision.
Later that night, my coaches and the director of the club called me to a meeting and said that if I did not play on Sunday, I would be eliminated from the team. The director of the club told me that if I chose not to play volleyball on Sundays, I would never play college volleyball because the college scouts only watched the Sunday championships. I was sad and felt completely alone in my decision. I had been taught all of my life to keep the Sabbath day holy, and living this commandment had always been simple until then. I loved volleyball and had dreams of playing in college. This was a lot for me to handle, but I told them, “No, I will not play.”
After the meeting, I went to my room and cried. I decided that in order to stand strong in my beliefs I needed to understand why keeping the Sabbath day holy was so important. I looked in the Bible Dictionary under “Sabbath” and found my answer. It read, “The Sabbath was a holy day … even from the earliest times. … The Sabbath is an eternal principle” (p. 765). After reading this, I knew I would have the strength not to play on Sunday. The Lord rested on the seventh day, and I would rest as well and worship Him.
Nonetheless, it was a difficult Sunday. My team did not play well, and I was blamed for their poor performance. My teammates and coaches were not friendly; many did not talk to me, and some taunted me. When I arrived home, my parents gave me big hugs and said that they were proud of me. The next week at practice I was asked to leave the team.
Over the next four years, I continued to play volleyball for the same club but never on the competitive traveling team. After I had decided on a college to attend, I received a phone call from the director of the club I had played for. She was the new head volleyball coach for the college I was going to attend. She was calling to ask me to play volleyball for her. This was the same woman who four years earlier had told me that if I did not play volleyball on Sundays, I would never play college volleyball. Now she was giving me that opportunity.
The Lord works in mysterious ways. I know that I was truly blessed by making the decision not to play on Sunday. I also know that the Lord will always bless us for keeping the commandments—maybe not in the ways we think, but we will be blessed.