Gospel Story Finder

Upon graduation from university, I was commissioned an officer in the United States Army. I was an infantry lieutenant. With youthful exuberance, I volunteered for training as a U.S. Army Ranger. Rangers are elite infantry— “commandos”—skilled in conducting long-range raids and reconnaissance patrols deep in enemy territory. Ranger training is the toughest the Army offers.
In those days, it was nine weeks of hyper-intense, physically punishing torture at Ft. Benning, Georgia; then in the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Georgia; and finally in the reptile-infested swamps of Florida that sought to simulate the experience of actual combat. The course was filled with what the Ranger cadre called “confidence tests”—punishing challenges to test both physical and mental stamina intended to increase self-confidence and expand our perception of what we are capable of doing under extreme stress. From start to finish, Ranger training was an ongoing confidence test instilling the ethos of never shrinking from a challenge.
In Ranger School, we were organized in pairs—"Ranger Buddies.” My Ranger Buddy Clark Stevens and I did everything together. At the Mountain Ranger Camp, among other things we were taught the technique for two-man party-climbs up sheer rock faces. It was winter, and there were patches of black ice on these cliffs, which added to the peril. One day, we were to scale a 100-foot cliff in buddy teams. The technique called for one Ranger to climb while the other belayed for him with a rope. Then, when the first Ranger had secured a position part way up the cliff, he belayed while his buddy leapfrogged past him further up, and so on until they reached the top.
Clark and I walked back and forth along the base of the cliff looking for the easiest route up we could find. You could say that we were shrinking a little. At last, we found a spot where the rock started up at about 45 degrees instead of the typical 90 degrees. It looked easier. So, Clark went first while I belayed. Up he went and around a bend in the rock. I lost sight of him. Then came two tugs on the rope, signaling that it was now my turn to climb past him. When I reached Clark and looked up at my section of the climb, to my dismay I discovered that the cliff was not just perpendicular but that it was actually an overhang! To scale it was highly perilous, requiring the need to hang from the rock using a rope stirrup hooked to a steel piton (or alpine peg) in a rock crevice; then standing with one foot in the stirrup while fixing another stirrup to the next piton a little higher, repeating again and again until I finally reached the summit. I still have visions of swinging perilously on one foot peering into the 100-foot abyss below and wondering how in the world I had gotten into such a predicament!
Clark and I eventually made it to the top of the cliff. We lay on our backs, exhausted. In our search for an easy route up the cliff, we had turned a difficult challenge into an extraordinarily difficult one. Here is the lesson: There is seldom, if ever, an easy route up and over life’s “cliffs”. When confronting them, just move forward, trusting in God; and don’t shrink!

A few years ago a high-ranking official from China visited Salt Lake City, toured Church sites, and spoke at Brigham Young University. Learning about the Church welfare program, he said, “If we all loved each other like this, the world would be a more peaceful place.”

Fasting and giving the value of the meals not eaten to help the poor captured his attention. At the conclusion of his visit to Welfare Square, he handed the manager a small red envelope—a “red pocket.” In China a “red pocket” is given as a gesture of love, blessing, and a wish for good fortune. “It does not contain much,” the visitor said, “but it represents the money I have saved from missing breakfast the last two mornings. I would like to give my fast offering to the Welfare program of the Church.”

Another time I was in a distant city. After a conference we were ordaining and setting apart leaders. As we concluded, the stake president asked, “Can we ordain a young man to be an elder who is leaving for the mission field?” The answer, of course, was yes.
As the young man came forward, he motioned for three brethren to follow and stand in for his ordination.
I noticed on the back row a carbon copy of this boy, and I asked, “Is that your father?”
The young man said, “Yes.”
I said, “Your father will ordain you.”
And he protested, “But I’ve already asked another brother to ordain me.”
And I said, “Young man, your father will ordain you, and you’ll live to thank the Lord for this day.”
Then the father came forward.
Thank goodness he was an elder. Had he not been, he soon could have been! In the military they would call that a battlefield commission. Sometimes such things are done in the Church.
The father did not know how to ordain his son. I put my arm around him and coached him through the ordinance. When he was finished, the young man was an elder. Then something wonderful happened. Completely changed, the father and son embraced. It was obvious that had never happened before.
The father, through his tears, said, “I didn’t get to ordain my other boys.”
Think how much more was accomplished than if another had ordained him, even an Apostle.

True Repentance Requires More Than a Cleansing
Actually, the whole process of repentance requires more than just a cleansing, and we need to do more than just repair all damage done. Early in 1984, while returning to our home in Jerusalem, I must have been handling our large, heavy suitcases in such a way that something went wrong in my lower back. For several months I found myself in periodic excruciating pain—apparently from some bone fragments sticking in the largest nerve in my body, the sciatic nerve that runs down the spine and into the legs. After three months of experimental treatments in Israeli doctors’ offices and hospitals, and not being able to function because of the intense pain, my doctor put me on the strongest painkiller he could prescribe without personally accompanying me and sent me on a plane flight across the world to Salt Lake City for a back operation. The surgery was successful. After some weeks of recovery I flew back to the Holy Land to resume what I loved: teaching and guiding the students on field trips throughout the lands of the Bible and, over the years, climbing Mount Sinai a total of eighteen times.

I learned something from that painful ordeal. It is not enough to repair the damage done. I have to continually strengthen my back so it doesn’t happen again. So it is with repentance: we must cleanse ourselves of all that is wrong inside, repair the damage that has been done, and continually strengthen ourselves to become more and more resistant to sin and more and more capable of sustaining light and truth from Him who is our strength.

Let me tell you of an experience I had when I was a little boy in the first or second grade. I came home from school one day, threw my books on the table, and took the name of the Lord in vain in expressing my relief that school was out for the day.

My mother heard me. She was shocked. She took me by the hand and led me to the bathroom. There she got a clean washcloth and a clean bar of soap. She told me to open my mouth, then proceeded to wash my mouth out with that terrible soap. I blubbered and protested. She stayed at it for what seemed a long time, and then said, “Don’t let me ever hear such words from your lips again.”

The taste was terrible. The reprimand was worse. I have never forgotten it, and I hope that I have never used the Lord’s name in vain since that time.

I’m not even a Mormon, and yet I look forward to and enjoy my monthly edition of the New Era. Your magazine helps me to see and reinforce values, standards, and morals that I never learned in my years of growing up as an orphan. My good friends the Wilsons, who live on a beautiful little ranch in John Day, Oregon, were kind enough to give me a subscription to the New Era and also show me the wealth of a strong family unit in a society where everyone is struggling for an identity. Before I met the Wilsons, I had a very stereotyped misconception of Mormon people. But the Wilsons showed me with their generosity, care, and sincerity what wonderful people Mormons are, and my monthly edition of the New Era only helps to enhance these impressions.
Yvonne Mary PepinJohn Day, Oregon

“Some two or three years after I was baptized, one day while I was studying, I began to reflect upon the fact that I had not obtained a knowledge of the truth of that work—that I had not realized the fulfillment of that promise, he that doeth my will shall know of the doctrine, (see John 7:17) and I began to feel very uneasy. I laid aside my books, left the house, and wandered around through the fields under the oppressive influence of a gloomy, disconsolate spirit, while an indescribable cloud of darkness seemed to envelop me. I had been accustomed, at the close of day, to go for secret prayer, to a grove a short distance from my lodgings, but at this time I felt no inclination to do so. The spirit of prayer had departed and the heavens seemed like brass over my head. At length, realizing that the usual time had come for secret prayer, I concluded I would not forgo my evening service, and, as a matter of formality, knelt as I was in the habit of doing, and in my accustomed place, but no feeling as I was used to feeling. I had no sooner opened my lips in an effort to pray, than I heard a sound, just above my head, like the rustling of silken robes, and immediately the spirit of God descended upon me, completely enveloping my whole person, filling me from the crown of my head to the soles of my feet, and O the joy and happiness I felt! No language can describe the almost instantaneous transition from a dense cloud of mental and spiritual darkness into a refulgence of light and knowledge that God lives, that Jesus Christ is the Son of God, and of the restoration of the Holy Priesthood, and the fullness of the Gospel. It was a complete baptism—a tangible immersion in the heavenly principle or element, the Holy Ghost; and even more real and physical in its affects upon every part of my system than the immersion by water; dispelling forever, so long as reason and memory last, all possibility of doubt or fear in relation to the fact handed down to us historically that the ‘babe of Bethlehem’ is truly the Son of God; and also the fact that He is now being revealed to the children of men, and communicating knowledge, the same as in the apostolic times. I was perfectly satisfied, as well I might be, for my expectations were more than realized; I think I may safely say, in an infinite degree.
“I cannot tell how long I remained in the full flow of the blissful enjoyment and divine enlightenment, but it was several minutes before the celestial element which filled and surrounded me began gradually to withdraw. On arising from my kneeling posture, with my heart swelling with gratitude to God, beyond the power of expression, I felt—I knew that he had conferred on me what only an omnipotent being can confer—that which is of greater value than all the wealth and honors the world can bestow. That night as I retired to rest, the same wonderful manifestations were repeated, and continued to be for several successive nights. The sweet remembrance of those glorious experiences, from that time to the present, brings them fresh before me, imparting an inspiring influence which pervades my whole being, and I trust will to the close of my earthly existence.” (Preston Nibley, The Presidents of the Church (Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Company, 1974), Chapter 5, paragraphs 10–12, pp. 139–140.)
Lorenzo Snow

Because of a drought, my husband, John, and I had to either sell our beef cattle at a loss or move them from the Melba Valley, in southwestern Idaho, USA. Fortunately, John found summer range at a cousin’s family farm, located in the Preston area, about 300 miles (480 km) away.
We arranged for a trucker to take all 40 cattle in one load, but he didn’t like the looks of a rough ranch road that led to the cattle pasture, still 20 miles (32 km) away. To our disappointment, he unloaded them at nearby stockyards. There we were, late in the day with 40 head of cattle to transport and no way to do it.
John stopped a local farmer, explained our plight, and asked for help. Minutes later Bishop Steve Meeks and his young son followed us to the stockyards to see what could be done.
The cattle had become unsettled. Seeing a broken section of fence at the stockyard, they ran toward it, seeking freedom. All the cattle hurdled the fence into another enclosure—except for one cow. She managed to get most of the way over, but one hind leg slipped between two fence planks. She ended up hanging precariously on the fence, one front foot barely touching the ground. She kicked her other hind leg furiously in an effort to free herself.
Releasing the cow would require hoisting equipment. If she broke a leg, we would have to put her down. To lose a cow would put considerable financial strain on us.
The cow weighed more than 1,000 pounds (455 kg), and we could not get near her, nor help her if we did. The havoc on the fence made the rest of the cattle nervous.
I didn’t think there was anything we could do, but at that moment I remembered Amulek’s counsel in the Book of Mormon: “Cry unto him when ye are in your fields, yea, over all your flocks” (Alma 34:20). I withdrew myself from the others, knelt down, and prayed with all the sincerity of my heart. Concluding my supplication, I pleaded, “Heavenly Father, please help the cow.”
I returned to the corral, the prayer still lingering on my lips. By now the cattle had quieted somewhat, including the one on the fence.
Suddenly, the largest of the milling animals broke away from the herd. Resisting our efforts to turn her back, she moved toward the dangling cow. Lowering her head, she dropped to her knees, forced her way under the stranded cow, and staggered slowly to her feet. She lifted the tangled cow into the air and then lowered her. The cow was free! A hoist could not have done as well.
As the two cows ran back to the herd, Bishop Meeks stared in disbelief at what he had just witnessed. My tears flowed as I whispered, “Thank You, Heavenly Father.”
Anyone who knows cattle will tell you that cows do not reason things out in their minds. But there is an explanation for this incident. Heavenly Father hears and answers prayers. He answered mine—at a stockyard in Preston, Idaho.

In the last general conference, Elder Carlos A. Godoy told of his personal experience in using his patriarchal blessing to evaluate his goals:

At the end of the 1980s, our young family was made up of my wife, Mônica, two of our four children, and me. We lived in São Paulo, Brazil, I worked for a good company, I had finished my university studies, and I had recently been released as bishop of the ward where we had lived. Life was good, and everything seemed to be as it should be—until one day an old friend came to visit us.
At the conclusion of his visit, he made a comment and asked a question that unsettled my convictions. He said, “Carlos, everything seems to be going well for you, your family, your career, and your service in the Church, but—” and then came the question, “if you continue to live as you are living, will the blessings promised in your patriarchal blessing be fulfilled?” [Godoy, “The Lord Has a Plan for Us!” Ensign, November 2014]

As a result of this question from his friend, Elder Godoy paid attention to his patriarchal blessing and made some necessary changes in his life that would help him realize Heavenly Father’s promised blessings for him.

My mother did this over 50 years ago when I was leaving to go to law school in Chicago. I had been working in a radio station, routinely employed on the Sabbath. As I left for a new challenge in my life, she told me for the first time that in his graduate studies my father never studied on Sunday. He felt that he could do more in six days with the help of the Lord than he could do in seven days without it. He believed that by refraining from studying on the Sabbath even in the difficult challenges of medical school far from home¾he would receive the blessings of the Lord. It was a new time in my life, and that simple new challenge caused me to do the same. Study was my work, and the Lord had commanded us to labor for six days and rest on the seventh. I followed my mother’s simple teaching about that commandment, and I was richly blessed for it.

Shortly after I had started working in the safety office, Janine and I were attending a concert in the Hart building and I was truly enjoying the experience, but during a break in the performance, my mind started to wander a little about what would happen if we needed to evacuate this performance. So after looking around to find the nearest exit—which is often not the same one you came, in by the way—I turned to Janine and proceeded to explain to her that: “If we have to evacuate, we will use that exit door right over there, and if someone becomes unresponsive, I want you to go down these stairs right here and call 911 and grab the AED that is right above the phone.”
I hadn’t even had a chance to tell her about my whole plan when she looked back at me with a confused look on her face and asked, “What are you talking about!?” I quickly realized that having a plan is a good idea, but immediately sharing it with someone—especially in the middle of a concert—may not be the best idea. So we went back to enjoying the rest of the concert and sure enough, we didn’t even have to use my quickly conceived emergency plan. (Hopefully all of you listened to the announcement just before devotional started today and found your nearest exit.) I often think about that experience and wonder why it seemed so important to me in that moment to have an emergency plan and I have decided that, if not necessarily a normal thing to think about, having an emergency plan is always a good idea, no matter what situation I find myself in.

This story took place in the USA.
Maddie put her dance shoes into her bag. Dance class had just ended, and it was time for lunch. She met her friend Ashlynn at the door.
“What did you think of that new song?” Maddie asked as they walked to the lunchroom. Their class was going to dance to a new song for their final show of the year, in front of all their families.
“It’s OK, I guess,” Ashlynn said.
“Some of the words seemed kind of weird,” Maddie said. “I don’t like it very much.”
Maddie thought she’d be embarrassed if her parents and little sister watched her dance to music like that.
Ashlynn shrugged. “My brother really likes it. He plays it a lot.”
“Oh.” Maddie looked down.
All day the song played in Maddie’s head. She didn’t like how it made her feel. But Ashlynn didn’t think it was bad. Maybe it was OK.
Maddie remembered a home evening lesson her family had about music. Mom said that good music can help people feel the Holy Ghost. And music with bad words could make it harder for them to feel the Spirit. Maybe the Holy Ghost was telling her the song wasn’t good.
She frowned. The song didn’t have any swear words. Was it still bad?
When Maddie got home, she told Mom about the song.
“Can you look at the words and see what you think?” Maddie asked.
Together they found the words of the song online. Maddie watched Mom’s face as she read.
Mom frowned. “I can understand why you don’t like it,” she said. “It doesn’t have swear words, but I don’t think it’s a good song for fourth-graders to dance to. I’ll ask your dance teacher about it tomorrow.”
The next day, Mom talked to her teacher, Mrs. Slater, at school. Maddie was worried that Mrs. Slater would be upset, but she wasn’t! She said she understood why Mom didn’t like the song. But she said it was too late to change the music.
“Maddie doesn’t have to dance to the song,” Mrs. Slater said. “She can sit out for that dance.”
Sitting out by herself sounded scary. Maddie decided to ask Ashylnn to sit out with her. Ashlynn said yes!
When the day of the dance show came, Maddie met Ashlynn in the hall.
“I’m glad you’re going to sit out with me!” Maddie said with a smile.
But Ashlynn didn’t smile back. “I’m not going to sit out after all,” she said, adjusting her skirt. “I’m going to dance with everyone else.”
Maddie felt sick inside. She didn’t want to sit out alone. But she still didn’t feel good about the song.
Maddie lined up with the others and danced to the first song. Then it was time for the next song.
Her heart pounded. She said a little prayer in her heart. Then she took a deep breath, walked to the side of the stage, and sat down.
Once she was off the stage, Maddie felt much better. She watched her classmates dance. When they were done, she clapped. She felt happy and warm.
Maddie smiled. It was scary to sit out all by herself, but she felt good that she had listened to the Holy Ghost.
Illustration by Susana Gurrea

When my mission ended, all those experiences helped me stay hopeful in the chaotic and superficial world back home. I returned home at a very difficult time for my family and my country. There were many political and economic problems, and many families were emigrating to other countries because of the lack of employment and education opportunities. I couldn’t believe that things had changed so much in such a short time, even within my own family. Some of my loved ones and friends had also passed away. I felt so overwhelmed with all the difficulties surrounding me.
One day, feeling discouraged, I took out my study notebook and began to write about the feelings in my heart. I thought of the many experiences I had had while serving others on my mission. Recalling those special experiences was exactly what I needed to lose myself even more in His work, to serve and continue to develop the gifts that He has blessed me with. That day a very special phrase that my mission president’s wife always repeated to us stood out to me: “You can do hard things.” I have tried to remember that continuously, including while learning to use a prosthetic hand and trying to live a normal life.

In the meantime, Elder John E. Forsgren had been set apart to preach the gospel in Sweden. He proceeded to the city of Gefle on June 19, 1850. His younger sister had been told in a dream that a visitor was about to come with three books and that those who believed in them should be saved. She accepted the gospel when her brother came with the Bible, the Book of Mormon, and the Doctrine and Covenants. Her brother Peter had a lung disease that the doctors said had no cure. Elder Forsgren laid hands on his brother’s head, and Peter was healed by the power of the Lord. Peter was the first to receive baptism in Sweden. He was baptized on July 26, 1850. His sister and two others were baptized on August 3.

Elder Forsgren was soon arrested and banished but found many opportunities to preach the gospel before the highest police officers and judges and in the courtrooms. With the help of the American consul and the captain of a ship bound for New York, he was able to escape to Denmark. He arrived back in Copenhagen on September 18, 1850.

(President of the Church from 1945 to 1951)
Christmastime at the Smith home was filled with fun and service. On Christmas Eve family members hung stockings in front of the fireplace to collect presents. As a joke, President George Albert Smith always hung a huge stocking instead of a regular sock. On Christmas day President Smith took his children to visit people who might be feeling lonely or forgotten. Once he and his daughter Emily visited an elderly woman who lived alone. The woman was so happy to have visitors that she cried. She said she was grateful that someone had thought of her on Christmas.

I am old enough that when I went on a mission all the missionaries were set apart by general authorities. A newly ordained apostle who had just been called to the Quorum of the Twelve in October Conference of that year put his hands on my head and said among other things, "There will be clouds-but the sun will come out." When I am faced with another patch of dark clouds on the horizon I am always grateful for that personal blessing and reminder given by Elder Gordon B Hinckley. The sun will come out. There will certainly be times when things look dark, but that is an opportunity to build your faith. Without a little bit of darkness there is no opportunity to build faith. Remember, some uncertainty is part of the plan.

A sign in the Smiths’ front yard says “Smiths’ Blissful Acres.” Blissful means “happy,” and the Smiths have found that working and playing together make them happy. They live in a house that was once a barn on 10 acres (4 ha) amid brush-covered hills. Here you’ll find a tree house with a rope swing, a pond with canoes, a vegetable garden, a fruit orchard, steers, chickens, and a big dog named Rascal. You’ll also find ten-year-old Daniel, eight-year-old Steven, and six-year-old Alysa Smith. They have four older brothers, an older sister, and lots of cousins. They love being part of a large family.
On Saturday, October 25, 2003, a small fire started 18 miles from the Smiths’ home. But in a few days the wind had turned the small fire into the largest fire in the history of California. By Tuesday, the fire was burning toward Smiths’ Blissful Acres.
“The sky was orange,” Alysa says, “and the sun looked dark red. We wore masks over our noses and mouths because of the smoke and ash in the air.”
Daniel, Steven, and Alysa packed their clothes and stuffed animals. Because it feared the fire, “one of our steers broke the chain on his halter and went under the fence,” Daniel says. “Rascal helped us get the steer back into the corral.”
When the Smiths had to evacuate, they had to leave the steers and chickens behind. “We raise the steers to sell and pay for our missions,” Steven says. “We were scared that everything would burn.”
Before they left, the Smiths knelt in family prayer. “We prayed for the Lord to bless us and our house and animals,” says Daniel, Steven, and Alysa’s dad, Jeff. “We had done all we could do and then left it in Heavenly Father’s hands.”
“We felt better after our prayer,” Steven says. “I felt the Spirit. Mom helped us feel calm, too.”
At 7:30 p.m. the Smiths got into their two cars and a truck to drive the 30 minutes to a friend’s house in the desert. “Rascal wouldn’t get in the car,” Alysa says. “Some of us were crying, and we were scared Rascal would die in the fire.”
The firefighters worked for four days to protect the town of Julian from the fire. One firefighter died. More than 700 houses burned in the hills around Julian, but the town was saved.
Though the roaring fire raced toward Smiths’ Blissful Acres, the firefighters stopped it two miles before it got there. When the Smiths came home on Saturday, they were so happy that the animals and the house were safe. But Rascal was still missing. Five days later, a man from the animal control center called and said Rascal was there.
“When my mom brought Rascal home, we all jumped on him and hugged him,” Daniel says. “We were so happy.”
During the weeks after the fire, Daniel, Steven, and Alysa helped at the disaster center in Julian. As people donated clothing and supplies, and others sorted the donations into boxes, the Smith children carried the boxes up or down the stairs to the assigned areas.
Since the fire, the Smiths are more grateful than ever for their family, home, and the Church. They express gratitude in their family prayers at the beginning and end of every day. After the prayer, the Smiths have a family tradition. They put their feet in the center of the family circle, pile their hands on top of each other’s hands, and say, “We love everybody.” Then they raise their arms and hands over their heads and shout, “We fly high!”—a reminder that with the gospel and each other, they can become better every day.
And Daniel, Steven, and Alysa do “fly high” because working and playing together makes them and their family strong.

As missionaries in Ghana, we washed our clothes by hand on preparation day. Elder Moss, my companion who had recently arrived from the United States, had not experienced this way of doing laundry. But being a native of Ghana, I was used to it.
Every Monday Elder Moss set out to scrub his clothes, but about halfway through the job, his hands and knuckles would start bleeding. I would then need to take over his work, in addition to finishing my own.
One Monday when washing time came around, Elder Moss seemed a bit worried. I had injured my hand the previous day, and he knew that I was not going to be able to help him with his laundry. I wouldn’t even be able to do my own. He started his washing, but as usual, he needed help halfway through.
Since I couldn’t help my companion with the actual washing, I encouraged him to endure—to let his hands rest and then keep trying. He stopped for a time and then continued. I told him he could find a way to finish. His hands and knuckles were still sore, but he pushed on. When the washing was completed, he said, “I am proud of myself. Elder Asante, are you proud of me?”
“Yes, of course I am proud of you,” I answered.
As I have thought about this incident, I realized that Heavenly Father knows our potential, but He tests us so we can develop diligence, patience, and faithfulness. He is pleased with us when we make righteous choices and prove that we can bear our afflictions.
When we work hard and endure the trials placed before us, we can say, “Heavenly Father, art Thou proud of me?” I know that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ are pleased when we endure and that They will tell us so one day when They welcome us home.

“I don’t know, but I know He does. I remember reading a story several years ago in a Church magazine. It was a true story about a little sparrow that flew into the Salt Lake Tabernacle while the doors were open.”*

“You mean that big building on Temple Square where they hold general conference?”

Dad nodded. “The building was empty when the bird flew in, so the workers at the Tabernacle opened all the doors, hoping the bird would fly out.”

“Did it?”

“No. They tried calling for help, and some city workers brought some nets with very long handles so they could try to catch the bird.”

Beth remembered seeing a photograph of the inside of the Tabernacle. The ceiling looked very high. The handles on those nets must have been very, very, very long!

Dad continued. “The people ran from one end of the Tabernacle to the other trying to catch the bird, but that just frightened the poor thing. Terrified, it flew back and forth from the pipe organ to the balcony. The people who worked in the Tabernacle were getting worried. An important concert was scheduled for that evening, and they were running out of time. They had to get the bird out.”

“What did they do?” Beth whispered.

“The city workers couldn’t think of anything else, so they suggested that they use a pellet gun to shoot the bird.”

“Oh, no!” Beth was worried.

“Or they thought about putting out some poisoned food that the bird would eat.”

“Oh, Daddy, they didn’t, did they?”

“Well,” Dad continued, “the manager of the Tabernacle wouldn’t let them hurt the bird. He thought about how important this little bird was to Heavenly Father. He knew Heavenly Father would know how to take care of the bird, so he turned around and said a quiet, simple prayer. Right away the Holy Ghost helped him know what to do. He quickly gave instructions to the other workers to turn off all the lights, close the blinds, and shut all but one of the doors. Soon the only light coming into the Tabernacle was coming through that one single door. Seeing the light, the bird flew toward it and was finally able to find its freedom. Out it flew, safe at last.”

“I’m glad Heavenly Father helped the bird.”

Just before my ordination to the office of a deacon in the Aaronic Priesthood, an important event transpired in our family. Early one evening Dad received a telephone call. At the conclusion of the call, he privately visited with my mother. She immediately began to tidy up the house, a sure sign we were going to have visitors. In a short while three well-dressed gentlemen knocked at our front door. Before we could tell who the callers were, mother whisked us to the rear of the house and shut the doors to the living room. After a few minutes of discussion with the men, Dad came and asked Mother to join them in the living room. Mom’s departure allowed me the opportunity to go into the kitchen and sit on the floor with my ear next to the living room door to hear what was being said in the next room. It was soon apparent that my dad was receiving a call to serve as the bishop of our ward. What a shock to a prospective deacon!