Gospel Story Finder

“This is the greatest!” Shilo exclaimed as she laced up her ice skates. The girls and boys she had invited to her birthday party glided across the ice. The clank of skate blades on the ice could be heard throughout the indoor rink.
“Be careful in there,” her mom said. “Have fun!”
“OK!” Shilo tottered toward the rink to join her friends. “Hey, Kari! Let’s go skate over there.” Shilo pointed to some of their friends, and they skated over to join the group. They all laughed and joked and raced around the rink. They were having a great time!
After a while, Shilo asked Kari, “Have you seen Brian? I haven’t seen him.”
“Me neither.”
“Wait, I see him over there sitting at that table.”
Shilo and Kari left the ice and joined Brian at the table. His brown eyes looked as if he had lost a puppy.
“What’s wrong, Brian?” they asked.
“Oh, nothing. They won’t give me any skates. They ran out of my size. And the guy won’t give me my money back.” He shrugged his shoulders and sighed.
Shilo’s mom overheard. “Come with me, Brian,” she said. “We’ll see if we can do something about that.” She smiled at him, trying to cheer him up.
The two girls went back to the skating rink. Time went by, but Shilo still didn’t see Brian out in the rink. She went back to see what was taking so long. When she got off the ice she saw her mother still talking to the man at the counter. Brian had resumed his position with his head on the table.
“Why aren’t you skating?” Shilo asked.
“They still don’t have my size, I guess.”
“What size do you wear?”
“Six.” Brian didn’t lift his head from the table.
“So do I! How about if you use my skates for a while? I need to rest my ankles. They’re beginning to hurt a little.”
Brian perked up. “Really?”
“Yeah. I can’t wear these things too long because I have weak ankles.” Shilo grinned as his face lit up.
“OK, but if you want them back just come and tell me and we can trade.”
“OK!”
Shilo took off her skates and gave them to Brian. He put them on and was quickly out on the ice. As Shilo watched Brian skate, she felt good inside. She knew she had done the right thing.

One weekend I had the opportunity of attending a stake quarterly conference in Idaho. As a group of Primary children stood before the congregation and sang “I Am a Child of God,” I noticed three young Primary members on the front row singing but saying nothing vocally. They were deaf; they sang with their hands. No one heard them audibly, but we received their message. They touched my spirit deeply, and it was my privilege to tell them in front of the members of that stake that our Heavenly Father heard them. Even though vocally they had said nothing, they transmitted a memorable message. In moving silence they taught of the spirit, they taught of the mind, and they taught of the heart. They had not given up singing just because they had no voice. They had been taught to carry on.

As the parents of four sons, my husband and I always seek ways to help our children feel the Spirit and gain a testimony. We had a breakthrough in understanding in an unusual way. I was standing in a store when the prompting came.
Our oldest son’s grades in his social studies class were declining. We had talked with him about it, encouraging him to study harder, but there was still no improvement. We had been praying for ideas to help him. One day in a bookstore, I had a strong impression to buy a book from a pile of books that were on sale.
The book was about how each of us has distinct learning styles. Many people are visual learners, meaning they learn best by what they see. These learners often love art and reading. Some learn best aurally. They process information most effectively when they hear it. These people often love music. Finally, some learners are kinesthetic learners. They learn best when there is motion or activity involved. These learners sometimes struggle in school when teachers insist on them sitting still. They learn best when they’re moving around.
There was the answer! Our son was obviously an aural learner—he loved music and talking! We discovered that he was often being pulled out of class for other activities during social studies and was then told by the teacher to go home and read the material. He was struggling because he wasn’t hearing the class discussion. Once we understood this, we encouraged him to read his assigned material aloud and then discuss it with us. His grades shot back up.
But our understanding of learning styles didn’t stop there. We realized as we studied this more and observed our children that the Holy Ghost often teaches our children in the ways they learn best. The Prophet Joseph Smith taught that the Spirit talks to us in our language and in ways we can understand. The Holy Ghost adapts His language to be understood by all, even little children. “Our Heavenly Father is always available to us. He adapts to our level of understanding. ‘If He comes to a little child, He will adapt himself to the language and capacity of a little child’ (Joseph Smith, in History of the Church, 3:392).”1
Knowing that the Spirit adapts His communication for our understanding can encourage parents to create opportunities for their children to hear teachings from the Holy Ghost in ways they will understand best. “All thy children shall be taught of the Lord; and great shall be the peace of thy children” (Isaiah 54:13).
As I mentioned, our oldest son’s primary method of learning was aural. Both he and our third son love music, so in our home we often played beautiful music by the Mormon Tabernacle Choir as well as classical music. They felt the Spirit deeply in this environment. We also had many lively discussions regarding the gospel, and this helped them learn truths that were reinforced by the Spirit as they heard them.

Rosalene grew up as the youngest child in a large family in Enterprise, a small community in Southern Utah, USA. She had many opportunities to witness the power of faith in Jesus Christ during her years at home and on her mission. After marrying in the temple, Rosalene embarked on a testimony-stretching journey of her own when her husband started a career that would take her farther and farther from home.
After moving to the state of Colorado, Rosalene watched from afar as her mother battled cancer until passing away a few years later.
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“I could have been happy to live in my hometown next to my parents my entire life,” she says. “It broke my heart when I had to grow up and move away. Losing my mom was life-shattering. Even now, not a single day goes by that I don’t miss her.
“I have to believe that there were days when Elizabeth missed her home desperately. But she believed in Jesus Christ and allowed His power to work in her life. That was enough to carry her through. The same power has helped me as I rely on my Heavenly Father for strength, whether or not my earthly family is close by.”

On Friday morning, Johnny looked happy. He had finally decided on a project. “Let’s go through our toys and clothes. Richard’s family is having a hard time since his dad was hurt. We could give them some of our things.”
“What a great idea, Johnny,” Susan said. “I’ll write a note, and we can sneak up and deliver the things without them seeing us.”
The children were amazed at the many nice things they found that would be just right for someone in Richard’s family. They decided to give puzzles, a teddy bear, a ball, a baseball mitt, books, and some outgrown clothes that were still as good as new.
Mom came by and added two good blankets and some canned food to the pile.
“Wow,” said Johnny. “This looks great!” The children carted their box to Richard’s home. They left it by the front door with a note that said:
To Richard’s family—
Here is a gift to let you know we care.
The Sunshine Club

I recently heard a missionary in the Ghana Accra Missionary Training Center share a story from his childhood. When he was about nine years old, he and a group of his friends came to the market and saw someone selling groundnuts. He and his friends were hungry. So, they decided to walk, one at a time, by the place where the man was selling groundnuts and take some while he was not looking. The missionary watched his friends, one by one, walk by the groundnuts and put some into their pockets without paying for them. When it was his turn, he heard a voice speak in his mind: “You should not do this. It is wrong.” He looked around and did not see anyone, so he walked over to the mound of groundnuts, only to hear the Spirit again say: “You should not do this. It is wrong.” He decided to not take any groundnuts; instead, he just walked away. When his friends asked him why he did not take any, he repeated what the voice had told him: it was wrong.

By choosing that day to listen to the Holy Ghost and follow the law of the Lord as a boy, he grew closer to God and became a little more like the Lord. In contrast, his friends were diminished by their unrighteous choice and distanced themselves from God. The only way to grow, draw close to God, and increase our capacity is to choose to follow Him and His laws and to repent when we have made a wrong choice.

If we do not quickly repent, one wrong choice usually leads to another, and those who walk that path gradually diminish their desire and capacity to choose the right and distance themselves from God and His power. Happily, the converse is true: one good choice often leads to another, drawing us closer to God and His power. Because the missionary chose as a boy to not take the groundnuts, it led to other good choices. As he made one good choice after another, he continued to grow through the years step by step, here little, there a little, until he was prepared to become a strong missionary.

I would like to tell you about some of the miracles that occurred in Andre’s quorum in Mochudi. As I share this example, watch for principles that strengthen every priesthood quorum that applies them.
After Andre was baptized, he accompanied the missionaries as they taught four other young men, who were also baptized. Now there were five young men. They began strengthening each other and the branch.
A sixth young man, Thuso, was baptized. Thuso shared the gospel with three of his friends, and soon there were nine.
Disciples of Jesus Christ are often gathered this way—a few at a time, as invited by their friends. Anciently, when Andrew found the Savior, he went quickly to his brother Simon and “brought him to Jesus.” Similarly, soon after Philip became a follower of Christ, he invited his friend Nathanael to “come and see.”
In Mochudi, a 10th young man soon joined the Church. The missionaries found the 11th. And the 12th young man was baptized after seeing the gospel’s effect on his friends.
Members of the Mochudi Branch were thrilled. These young men “were converted unto the Lord, and … united unto the church.”
The Book of Mormon played a significant role in their conversion. Thuso remembers, “I began reading the Book of Mormon … every time I was free, at home, at school, everywhere.”
Oratile was drawn to the gospel because of the example of his friends. He explains: “[They] seemed to change in the snap of a finger. … I thought it had … to do with the little … book they started carrying around … school. I could see what good men they had become. … [I] wanted to change too.”
All 12 young men were gathered and baptized within two years of each other. Each was the only member of the Church in his family. But they were supported by their Church family, including President Rakwela, their branch president; Elder and Sister Taylor, a senior missionary couple; and other branch members.
Brother Junior, a quorum leader, invited the young men to his home on Sunday afternoons and mentored them. The young men studied the scriptures together and held regular home evenings.
Brother Junior took them to visit members, people being taught by the missionaries, and anyone else who needed a visit. All 12 young men piled into the back of Brother Junior’s truck. He dropped them off at homes in companionships of two or three and picked them up later.
Even though the young men were just learning about the gospel and didn’t feel they knew much, Brother Junior told them to share one or two things they did know with the people they visited. These young priesthood holders taught, prayed, and helped watch over the Church. They fulfilled their priesthood responsibilities and experienced the joy of serving.
Andre said, “We played together, laughed together, cried together, and became a brotherhood.” In fact, they call themselves “the Band of Brothers.”
Together they set a goal that they would all serve missions. Since they were the only Church members in their families, they had many obstacles to overcome, but they helped each other through them.
One by one, the young men received mission calls. Those who left first wrote letters home to those still preparing, sharing experiences and encouraging them to serve. Eleven of the young men served missions.
These young men shared the gospel with their families. Mothers, sisters, brothers, friends, as well as people they taught on their missions, were converted and baptized. Miracles occurred and countless lives were blessed.
It has been almost 10 years since the Mochudi Band of Brothers started their journey together, and they are still a band of brothers.
Katlego said, “We may be separated by distance but we are still there for each other.”

The five-foot whitecaps smashed relentlessly against the sandy shores of Shoshone Lake. Sam Christiansen and Darrel Gibbons, both in their mid 30s, peered nervously from Moose Creek Campsite on the south beach to catch a glimpse of a little fleet of five brightly colored canoes. They had seen the small craft on the lake before the storm began. Now, although they were grateful to be planted firmly on the shore, their concern for those on the wind-ravaged waters grew with every passing moment.
Both men, teachers at South Fremont High School in St. Anthony, Idaho, and high priests in their respective wards, held a wary respect for Shoshone’s windy temper tantrums. They had learned that failure to clear the lake at first breeze was asking for trouble.
Shoshone Lake is an old volcanic crater measuring several hundred feet deep. Its seven-mile length and three-mile width nestle at the foot of pine-forested mountains in the south central portion of Yellowstone National Park. It is an area of primitive beauty that abounds in wildlife and spectacular mountain scenery. Warm, sandy beaches invite the adventurer to enjoy a true wilderness experience.
Motorized watercraft are not permitted on the lake, and access to it must be by backpacking or canoe. Being expert canoeists, Sam and Darrel looked forward each year to spending a few days in solitude and relaxation doing some real canoeing and fishing for the big wild trout that cruise the lake’s shores. Little did they realize that this trip would be different. Thursday, July 20, 1978, was to have an eternal impact on their lives and the lives of many others.
The day had been cloudy, with intermittent rain, too miserable to do any serious canoeing, or for that matter, even much fishing. Open campfire cooking, mixed generously with dozing and relaxing in the six-man tent, was the height of the day’s activity. Darrel’s father, Ray Gibbons, a Utah dairy farmer, and Sam’s two boys, Craig, 12, and David, 8, accompanied them. Ray Gibbons had commented that the upcoming night might be a long one due to the extra shut-eye.
Earlier that same day, eight explorers and two leaders from the Wilford Idaho Ward had set out for Shoshone Lake. The Wilford area was the first to be hit by the devastating Teton Flood on June 5, 1976. These young men who had lost their homes in that flood were once again to face a life-and-death crisis.
As the day began, their small craft, loaded to the gunnels with food and camping gear, had glided across Lewis Lake, then up the Lewis River four miles to Shoshone Lake. Each canoe was navigated by a team of two. The teams consisted of Kim Bischoff and Brant Kerbs; Van Hansen and Lane Potter; David Bischoff and Wade Singleton; Daren Dayton and Darris Williams; and their leaders, Lane Reynolds and John Bischoff, Kim’s father.
The previous year these boys had been students in Darrel’s seminary classes and Sam’s history and U.S. government classes at South Fremont, making them all more than mere acquaintances. But neither group knew the other was at the lake.
About 3:30 a giant black cloud appeared on the western horizon, soon covering the surrounding mountains like a shroud. When the front hit the lake, it was almost as if an atomic bomb had been detonated in its depths. In seconds the clear glassy surface was whipped into a frenzy. The fierceness of this explosive storm was like nothing Sam or Darrel had ever witnessed before. They knew the canoeists on the lake were in trouble and a lot of it. Even a cabin cruiser would find the going rough. Keeping a flimsy canoe afloat was next to impossible.
From the moment the devastating winds hit, the boys and their leaders fought gallantly to stay afloat, keeping their bows headed into the wind. However, within minutes Daren Dayton and Darris Williams swamped. Clothes provided little protection as the icy wetness rushed to their skin. Their life jackets were securely fastened, but the huge waves slapped and jostled them unceasingly. With only their sopping heads above water, they clung tenaciously to their overturned canoe. The shocking cold made breathing difficult. Already the icy water was beginning its deadly work.
Brant Kerbs and Kim Bischoff were closest to Daren and Darris as they capsized, but any rescue would be impossible in these rough waters. The two still afloat shouted encouragement and promised they would find help and return.
Being closest to the north shore, Brant and Kim decided their best bet was to continue toward it. Icy beads of near freezing water pelted their faces. Their destination seemed hopelessly remote, with progress painfully slow, but 30 minutes found them only a stone’s throw from shore. Just 30 yards away they saw a determined Van Hansen and Lane Potter also paddling toward shore.
At their Moose Creek campsite, Sam and Darrel watched intently.
“Can you see them?” Darrel shouted. Sam and the others a few feet away could barely hear above the rushing winds.
“They’re in that direction heading toward the north shore. I can only see one or maybe two.” Sam strained his eyes, but high waves had all but hidden them from view. “Why are they fighting it? They’d be ahead to turn around and come with the wind.” The campers’ frustration grew as the determined paddlers struggled to reach the north shore.
“Even with a life jacket there isn’t a soul who could last more than an hour or so in that water.” Darrel’s recent training in hypothermia had taught him that prolonged exposure to these 45-degree water temperatures would rob body warmth and eventually cause the vital organs to cease functioning. In the advanced stages of hypothermia, a victim’s limbs become stiff, he loses the ability to reason, and finally drifts into unconsciousness and death.
As hard as Kim and Brant paddled, they couldn’t reach land. A cross wind was driving them foot by foot back toward the middle of the lake. Their muscles ached from want of a moment’s relief, but every second was a fight to keep their frail craft from turning sideways into one of the large waves. It was evident that beaching on the north shore was impossible. Disheartened at being so close and yet so far, the boys decided that they must somehow turn their canoe back toward the south. It was a tricky maneuver, one that had to be done with precision or end in disaster. They noticed a rhythm in the swells that caused a brief lull after every fourth or fifth wave. With flawless timing they made the 180-degree turn. Their old bedraggled canoe, the only one without air ballasts and with a bottom you could step through, was still afloat. It plowed a watery furrow before a wind that pushed it like a giant hand.
Several hundred yards away, the food-and-equipment-laden canoe of the adult leaders, Lane Reynolds and John Bischoff, lost balance and spilled both men and supplies into the frothy coldness. Luckily, David Bischoff and Wade Singleton, the least experienced of the group, had stuck close to their leaders all day. When the leaders’ canoe flipped over, the boys maneuvered their craft so Lane Reynolds could, with counterbalancing by Wade and David, pull himself aboard.
Since the two adults weighed over 200 pounds each, taking them both aboard would swamp the canoe. So John picked up the end of a rope that had been used earlier as a tow line and trailed along behind as they also started for the south shore. The heaviness of the canoe and the drag of John’s weight slowed progress to a turtle’s pace.
On the south shore at Moose Creek Camp, the campers continued their vigil. They had lost sight of all the canoes among the mountainous waves but maintained hope that they had reached the safety of the north shore.
Then they spotted it—a bright yellow canoe a half mile out being propelled through the water like a battleship. It was heading straight for them. Sam and Darrel rushed to the water’s edge where in minutes the little canoe and its two occupants were literally thrown on Moose Creek Beach.
As the exhausted boys climbed out, Darrel and Sam stared in unbelief into the fatigue-lined faces of their former students. The boys, in shock from their ordeal, couldn’t believe their eyes as they stared into the friendly faces of their high school teachers. Sam and Darrel hurried the two boys to the warmth of the campfire where they listened intently to the painful news of Daren Dayton and Darris Williams. Already these two young men had been in the water over an hour. Undoubtedly hypothermia was taking its toll.
“There’s another canoe coming this way!” someone shouted. Sure enough, half a mile out a canoe with three occupants was making laborious progress, pitching and yawing amid the swells. They anxiously watched several minutes as it struggled to within a quarter mile of shore. Suddenly a huge wall of water caught the canoe broadside, spilling everyone and everything beneath the angry surface. One by one they popped up like toast in a toaster. David Bischoff, Wade Singleton, and Scout leader Lane Reynolds were all bobbing around the floundering canoe. But where was John Bischoff?
Amidst the shock and excitement, John had apparently lost his grip on the rope. An hour and a half in the water had made his whole body numb from the cold. As soon as he lost his grip on the rope, the lake’s undertow immediately began pulling him back toward the middle.
Sam and Darrel raced to the water’s edge for a better look. The urgency of the situation allowed little time to think. They must now consider a rescue attempt, knowing that such an attempt, especially in a canoe, would be extremely dangerous.
Sam was overwhelmed at the thought of it all—the unbelievably wild lake, the boys in a desperate situation fighting for their lives, his own wife and family so dependent on him. Was such a risk justified? Was it possible in a 16-foot canoe?
Darrel, who was bishop of his ward, had experienced the influence of the Lord through prayer many times. Now he felt an almost desperate need for guidance—a spiritual assurance that a rescue would be possible. Sam, whose past included many faith-promoting experiences, also needed this assurance more than anything he could remember. Humbled by the heaviness of the situation, they knelt together on the beach and prayed for those in the water, earnestly petitioning their Father in Heaven for guidance, strength, and protection. The warm, positive reassurance they were seeking came immediately. They knew unmistakably that the Lord was aware of their plight and would sustain them in their rescue efforts.
Somewhat startled by the quickness of the answer, Sam and Darrel looked at each other without speaking and ran toward their two beached canoes. Darrel’s father Ray then made what proved to be the most important suggestion of the day. “If you’re going out there, you’d better lash your canoes together for greater stability.”
Relieved at this welcome idea, the rescuers grabbed three oars, placed them across the two canoes, and tied them down securely with rope, making a more stable, double-hulled craft.
Within minutes, Sam and Darrel launched toward the nearest victims, praying that the others could hang on a little longer. The launch was rough. The rescue canoe lurched almost straight up at the first wave, throwing Sam backward into the water. Drenched from head to foot, he made a quick recovery and climbed into the canoe more determined than ever.
After 20 grueling minutes, their forward progress totaled no more than 20 yards. Incredibly frustrated at getting nowhere, they began shouting at each other to paddle harder. Then, noticing a short lull between every few waves, they started timing their strokes for greater results.
Twenty-five minutes more brought them within reach of Lane, David, and Wade. David and Wade thought they were seeing heaven as they recognized the high school teachers reaching out to them. The three, in a state of shock, could not have been more relieved had the rescue craft been an aircraft carrier. One of the most dangerous moments in a rescue of this kind comes with pulling a victim into the boat, especially when that boat resembles a bucking horse. Sam leaned over one side while Darrel grabbed Wade Singleton and lifted him over the other. David Bischoff followed; then came Lane Reynolds, a challenging 200 pounds. Lane, exposed to the water twice, was virtually helpless from advancing stages of hypothermia. Darrel pulled him partway out of the water, grabbed a leg, and lifted it over the side. Again Sam leaned out over the opposite side as a counterbalance. With all the might Darrel could muster, he pulled the leader aboard.
“Where is the other one?” Sam questioned.
“We don’t know. It’s John Bischoff,” came the reply. “We’re afraid he’s dead. He couldn’t hang on any longer.”
Lane Reynolds needed immediate attention, the kind that could only be properly administered by the warmth of a campfire. Determined to return and look for John, they headed for shore. A hundred yards away John Bischoff, barely conscious, saw the canoe leaving and felt all was lost.
A warm fire and muscle massage followed by hot chocolate and a dry sleeping bag soon brought Lane out of danger.
As Sam looked over the lake to catch a glimpse of John Bischoff or Daren and Darris, a faint cry for help came across the water from more than half a mile away. Almost as if a tunnel of vision had opened, his eyes fell on a tiny orange object bobbing among the swells. Could it be John? It was so far away from where they had just picked up the other victims. The two men rushed to their double canoe and were soon stroking rhythmically toward the distant speck of color.
Sure enough, it was John, incoherent and unable to recognize anyone, but alive. With muscles paralyzed from over two and a half hours in the water, he could offer no assistance. Although he also weighed over 200 pounds, he was pulled to safety like a water-soaked log.
With aching but still powerful strokes, the rescuers propelled the double-hulled canoe toward shore. As they fought their way back through the towering waves, they worried about the boys still on the lake. Over three hours had passed since Daren and Darris had tipped into the water. Lane Potter and Van Hansen were last seen approaching the north shore. The rescuers hoped these two were safe and enjoying the warmth of a crackling fire. But if Darris and Daren were to be found before dark, it had to be soon. Praying for those still to be rescued, Sam and Darrel paddled desperately for shore.
Arriving at last, they beached the canoe and helped John to the fire where they quickly administered treatment. Kim was elated to see his father alive. As John slowly began responding to treatment, the rescuers prepared to go out to find Darris and Daren.
As Darrel looked to the northwest across the lake, the waning rays of the sun reflected like a spotlight off two tiny objects one and a half miles out. Could it be Daren and Darris? Spotting someone so far out in twilight was miraculous, especially when earlier it had been difficult to see even 100 yards.
Again the little lifeboat was launched. This time Ray Gibbons and Kim Bischoff accompanied Sam and Darrel. The wind was beginning to subside, and with extra paddlers they soon pulled alongside Daren Dayton and Darris Williams, who, although unconscious, still held a death grip on their canoe. Their exposure covered an incredible four and a half hours. Suffering advanced hypothermia, the young men unconsciously fought to live. Daren was pulled to safety first, but Darris fought to hang onto the canoe as if it were life itself. Finally Darrel loosened Darris’s grip and lifted him into the boat. As the rescuers turned toward the beach, they began administering first aid immediately by rubbing the boys’ muscles.
Beside the warm fire the group worked over the two young men. Darris began to show signs of reviving while Daren, convulsing and foaming at the mouth, showed little. After 30 minutes, Darris regained consciousness, drank hot liquids, and was soon able to talk, but Daren fought their attempts to help. Two of them held him down while the others continued to administer warmth and massage. After several minutes Daren opened his eyes and said, “Brrr, it’s cold.” The whole group was elated.
“Those are the best words I have ever heard!” Sam exclaimed. They continued the process for another 15 minutes until Daren was fully conscious and somewhat limber.
The night was black except for the flickering fire on the beach as the group ate a tasty, soul-warming supper of hamburger, soup, fried potatoes, and hot chocolate. Each recounted his close brush with death.
Daren and Darris had miraculously escaped death’s grip. Even a few minutes longer in the water might have proved too many. They recounted that for the first hour or two they had talked of family and friends and encouraged each other to hang on. As the numbing cold spread throughout their bodies, they became more and more depressed, talking of death and expressing hope they would have a good funeral. Wise canoe instructors had ingrained in them the fact they should stay with their canoe no matter what. So they locked their arms under the end seats in a death grip, determined not to let go. After three hours they began passing in and out of consciousness, finally blacking out and remembering nothing until regaining their senses by the fire. After preparing for death, it was wonderful to be safely on the beach.
It was 11:30 P.M., and Sam lay in his sleeping bag. He couldn’t remember when anything had felt so good. He still wondered about Lane and Van but felt some reassurance since they had been seen close to shore. Then he remembered Ray Gibbons’s prediction that he wouldn’t be able to sleep that night. Sam smiled and drifted off to sleep.
The next morning Darrel and his father arose early and walked along the beach. The sky was still a little cloudy and the air chilly. Along the shoreline they discovered some of the supplies lost from the canoes in the storm. Then they saw it—the overturned green canoe of Van and Lane. They had never made it to the other side. The nightmare returned. Darrel stared at the canoe in utter disbelief, then pulled it ashore. Heartsick, they walked back to camp.
Sam was devastated by the news, but they refrained from telling the other boys just yet until they were sure. Maybe by some miracle the two had survived. The morning was solemn as they prepared breakfast, silently reflecting upon the unbelievable nightmare of yesterday.
As the sun began to peek above the distant mountain horizon, Sam and Darrel canoed to the east end of the lake to the temporary ranger station where they might find a radio, but the log cabin was locked up tight.
A backpacker passing through the area agreed to go for help by hiking to the ranger station at Grants Village several miles across the mountains to the east. By midmorning a helicopter appeared and circled the lake. It hovered for a moment at a spot near the outlet, then landed on the beach at Moose Creek Camp. The ranger stepped out and confirmed that a body had been found. It was later identified as Lane Potter. Van Hansen’s body was to be found the following day. Lane Reynolds, their leader, felt deeply responsible. He sat with his head in his hands, wondering how he could face their parents and what he could say.
The lake was still and smooth. It was hard to imagine that such a peaceful place could have been so ferocious. The group packed their gear in their canoes and headed for home. The serene quiet was interrupted only by an occasional trickle of water from a paddle as the canoes slid silently toward the outlet in single file.
Sam meditated upon the last 24 hours and with wonderment began to analyze the many unusual circumstances.
Could it be coincidence that Sam and Darrel, avid softball players, felt they should go on this camping trip rather than play in a stake championship game? Their two ward teams were playing each other the night they were camped on the Shoshone.
Was it coincidence that Darrel insisted his father come on this outing? It was Ray Gibbons who suggested that the canoes be lashed together. Any attempt to make a rescue in a single canoe would have been doomed to failure.
Was bringing an extra 100 feet of rope just coincidence when normally it would far exceed their needs? It was needed to lash the canoes together.
Was it only by chance that Kim and David managed to guide the only canoe without air balasts all the way to the north shore, then back across three miles of raging waves to land squarely on Moose Creek Beach, literally at the feet of the only two people who could help?
Could receiving a two-day permit to camp at the Moose Creek campsite rather than the normal one-day permit have been a coincidence? Moose Creek site is used as a staging area for incoming campers who move on to a more permanent camp the second day. A one-day permit would have forced a relocation to a spot around the lake where the canoes could have gone unnoticed.
Was it only chance that the two rescuers had been trained in the treatment of hypothermia, were in the best physical condition they had enjoyed for years, and were well rested for the almost superhuman effort?
Could it be coincidence that three of the victims were spotted nearly one and a half miles out when conditions made it difficult to see an object even 100 yards away?
A ranger shook his head in disbelief when told the young men survived four and a half hours in the frigid waters of Shoshone Lake. He said it was impossible.
For those involved in the rescue, the explanation is obvious. The Lord, in his divine wisdom, inspired two worthy priesthood holders to prepare for and perform a perilous rescue. Their sincere, humble prayer was heard and answered with divine assurance that they would be sustained in their efforts. Sam and Darrel had also exercised their priesthood and faith by administering to each hypothermia victim, all of whom recovered.
Everyone affected by this experience agrees it has built testimonies and added depth and meaning to many lives. Four years later, four of the young men who survived that day are serving missions. Another has been married in the temple, and one is serving in the armed forces.
As for the two young men who did not survive, it is a hurt that does not soon fade for family and friends. But the scriptures reveal that our Heavenly Father is aware of every sparrow that falls to the ground, and that every hair of our heads is numbered (Matt. 10:29–30). Surely he knows what is best for each of his children in his eternal plan.
Sam Christiansen and Darrel Gibbons continue enjoying dedicated Church service. They share a quiet gratitude to the Lord for their success and safety in the rescue, for had they failed, all would have perished.

A faithful young woman decided not to compromise her standards when she was asked to dress immodestly to fit into the business division of the fashion company where she worked. Understanding that her body is a sacred gift from our Heavenly Father and a place where the Spirit can dwell, she was moved to live by a standard higher than the world’s. She not only gained the confidence of those who saw her living by the truth of the gospel of Jesus Christ but also preserved her job, which for a moment was in jeopardy. Her willingness to do what was pleasing in the sight of the Lord, rather than what worked for the world, gave her covenant confidence amidst difficult choices.

At our house it is my job to empty the dishwasher. I also empty the garbage cans and put my laundry away. One day while my mom was doing the laundry I decided to surprise her and fold my sister’s clothes. It made my mom so happy. She said that I went the extra mile. I felt so good that I began to think of other ways I could go the extra mile. The next day I helped my mom by picking up some garbage that had blown into our yard. I also tried to go the extra mile with my other jobs. It makes my mom and dad happy when I am a good helper, and it makes me happy too.

On the first day of history class, the teacher started telling some jokes. I laughed at first, but after a while, some of the jokes he told were kind of offensive and inappropriate. He also kept taking the Lord’s name in vain. I started to feel uncomfortable. I knew that I wanted to stand up for what was right, but I had never done anything like that before.
After class, my heart was pounding as I started toward the teacher’s desk. I had never been more anxious in my life. I finally mustered the courage to speak. “Hey, I was wondering if you would mind not taking the Lord’s name in vain. I would really appreciate it.” I anxiously awaited his response.
“OK. What does it mean to take the Lord’s name in vain?” he asked, crossing his arms and cocking his head.
My mind went blank. But suddenly words came out of my mouth that weren’t my own: “Taking the Lord’s name in vain is when you use His name causally in conversation. His name is sacred, so we should respect it.”
He looked at me for a while, then simply said, “OK.” I felt so happy and peaceful inside. I was so grateful Heavenly Father helped me to say what I needed to say. I’m glad that I stood up for what I believed.
Mosiah M., Utah, USA

For a while now I’ve feared being called on a mission. Maybe it’s because I knew it was the right thing for me to do, and I was denying it. A few weeks ago I received my patriarchal blessing saying I would serve a mission. This upset me, and I knew it shouldn’t, so I prayed that my feelings would change. The following Sunday my Young Women president gave a great lesson on serving the Lord. Things were looking up. During the week the March 1988 New Era came. I’m so thankful for the article “Called to Serve Him.” My views have changed, and I can’t wait to serve a mission for the Lord! Thanks!
Cheri JohnsonSterling Heights, Michigan

Shortly before turning 30, Roberta Tuilimu realized she wasn’t happy. She had three beautiful children, and she loved their father, Daniel Nepia, but Roberta and Daniel weren’t married. Daniel wasn’t a member of the Church, and it had been a long time since Roberta had attended regularly.
She was a long way from the temple marriage she had always dreamed of as a young girl who went to church every week with her parents in Auckland, New Zealand. But turning her back on her eternal goals wasn’t a one-time decision; it had been a slow turn completed gradually through little decisions she made each day.
For Roberta one decision clearly sticks out as the moment she first stepped off the gospel path, though a number of other choices had likely brought her to that point. As a teenager Roberta skipped going to church a couple of weeks to do homework. “It’s interesting that it can start with something that seemed so small at the time,” she says.
After missing a couple of weeks it was much easier for her not to go the next week. Weeks of only sporadic attendance turned into months. After she turned 18, her friends convinced her to go clubbing late at night on Saturdays, which made it even harder to get to church on Sundays. It also led her to start drinking.
“I knew it wasn’t right, but I thought that I could stop straightaway if I wanted to,” she says. “I tried to justify my decisions.”
She was living a lifestyle incompatible with entering the temple, yet after meeting Daniel, she took him to the Hamilton New Zealand Temple grounds and told him she wanted to be married there.
“I knew that’s where I wanted to go,” she says. But each bad decision seemed to make the next bad decision easier—leading her further from her desired destination. Soon Roberta and Daniel were living together.
“There was a disconnect between what I wanted—what I knew was right—and the decisions I was making,” she says. “I was in the now. I didn’t connect current decisions with where they would take me.”
As far as she was from where she had intended to go, Roberta was not lost to the Lord. Though Daniel and Roberta didn’t realize it at the time, the Good Shepherd, who came “to seek and to save that which was lost” (Luke 19:10), had been seeking after them all along.
The Spirit had been working on Daniel, such as when Roberta had taken him to the temple grounds and when Roberta’s father had blessed their children. Though they had moved several times, with each move they ran into—and occasionally studied with—the missionaries.
Then, after relocating again in 2006, they ran into some old schoolmates, Dan and Lisa Nathan, who were active members of the Church. Daniel and Roberta had just moved into the Nathans’ ward boundaries.
For three weeks Roberta put off Lisa’s invitations to go to church with her. “I didn’t want to have to explain my situation,” she says. “But I decided I wanted my kids in Primary.”
Soon Daniel and Roberta were meeting with the missionaries again. Daniel began attending church, where a good Gospel Principles teacher made a difference. The visiting teachers visited every month. The couple even met Elder David A. Bednar of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles during a special devotional.
Roberta sees in their experiences evidence that Heavenly Father had prepared “a whole bunch of good people who helped us.”
Through various experiences and people, Heavenly Father had provided Daniel and Roberta opportunities to “consider [their] ways” (Haggai 1:7). But they had to “commit [their] way unto the Lord” (Psalm 37:5) before they could make any progress.
“I knew my ways had not been His ways,” Roberta says (see Isaiah 55:8–9), “but I hadn’t known how to connect the two.”
The turning point came when the missionaries asked Daniel and Roberta to decide where they wanted to go, spiritually speaking, and what they needed to do to get there.
“When we decided in the end that what we wanted was to be where His way leads,” she says, “we started looking at what it would take to follow His way there.”
In the months that followed, Roberta worked to turn her back on the poor decisions in her past and return to the path she had left more than a decade earlier. Just as her turn from the gospel path as a teenager began with small decisions, Roberta’s return to the path began with doing seemingly little things each day.
“When I started trying to do the basics every day—individual and family prayers, reading the scriptures, taking the kids to church, helping others when I can—I could feel Heavenly Father looking after us and hearing our prayers,” Roberta says. “Our family was happier.”
Those little decisions helped strengthen Daniel and Roberta when it came time to make the big decisions. They decided to get married. Then, nearly a year after Daniel and Roberta started meeting with the missionaries, their desire to be together with their family forever led Daniel to be baptized.
Finally, after two years of trying to match what they did each day to what they wanted in the future, Daniel and Roberta were sealed in the temple—fulfilling Roberta’s childhood dream.
As part of Heavenly Father’s plan, Daniel and Roberta have the opportunity to decide each day which way they will choose—theirs or His. The couple is now more conscious of the direction their daily choices will take them.
From personal experience they understand how easy it is to lose their way when daily decisions are made without considering their effect on eternal destinations. But they are also grateful to have learned firsthand that there is a way back.
“I know the Lord loves me and wants me back because He blessed our lives with the people we met along our journey who helped us return,” Roberta says. “He never forgot me during my time away from the Church.”
Thanks to the love—and the atoning sacrifice—of the Good Shepherd, “the wicked [can] forsake his way, and … return unto the Lord, and he will have mercy upon him … , for he will abundantly pardon” (Isaiah 55:7).
Now the Nepias are trying to stay focused on where they want to be. “When you realize there is more to this life than what’s now,” Daniel says, “it changes your choices.”

At age fifteen, Susana Fernandez-Rebollos Herrero of Madrid, Spain, is a champion. Competing against sixty-two female participants in the national fencing championships, she won the title as the best female fencer in Spain in her age group.
Her victory was a result of long hours of training and sacrifices. After discovering the sport when she was eleven years old, she read a story in the Liahona about LDS athletes. Inspired by the article, she set a goal to become a champion in fencing and, with encouragement of her family and friends, has done just that, winning many medals and cups along the way.
Susana was too young to participate in the Olympic Games in Barcelona in 1992, but she is preparing for the next Olympics.

When I was about seven years old, my Primary president wanted to help the children be more reverent in our Primary. She made a large bulletin board shaped like a lamb. Whenever a child was reverent, she put a lamb-shaped sticker on the bulletin board next to his or her name. I really wanted one of those lamb stickers.
So one day in Primary, I sat quietly with my arms folded and stared at the Primary president so she would notice me being reverent. A taller boy sat in front of me, so I slid down the bench so she could see me.
Then, as I sat there quietly, the pianist started playing a sweet, quiet Primary song. As I listened, a peaceful feeling came over me, and tears started to come down my cheeks. I didn’t know why I felt so happy and peaceful inside.
After Primary I told my mom about what I had felt, and she told me that it was the Spirit. That day, I learned what the Spirit feels like. Whenever I need to make important decisions and need guidance from the Spirit, I remember how peaceful I felt that day, and I can recognize how the Spirit speaks to me.

I love listening to the prophets. When I was a young boy, general conference was also on Fridays. I took a portable radio to school and listened to the talks during class break. But there were still a lot of things that I didn’t understand.
One night, I lay in bed thinking. I worried about all the things I didn’t understand about God. But I knew that I could learn more about God by praying to Him and by reading the scriptures. So I said a prayer and started reading from the scriptures. I read Doctrine and Covenants 88:49. It says, “The day shall come when you shall comprehend even God.”
As I read that, I felt peace and comfort from the Holy Ghost. I started to realize that someday I would be able to understand the things that made me feel worried. And that it was OK if I didn’t understand everything right now. I also learned that I could get to know God better by reading the scriptures and listening to prophets. I have a testimony that you can too!

We had committed ourselves to the rapids. The current was so powerful that there was no other choice but to take whatever the river had to give. Then suddenly the churning, splashing boiling subsided. Everything seemed to stand still for an instant. The wind calmed, the river smoothed itself, the pace of our heartbeats relented a bit, and our breathing returned, almost, to normal. What we saw in the next instant frightened us much more than the rapids had—a smooth line of water reaching from one bank to the other, a line that could mean only one thing: waterfall!
There had been no indication of a waterfall on our maps, but it was a little late to worry about that. In this largely unexplored area of Canada’s Northwest Territories, there were often surprises. About all we had time to do was pray and go over.
Luckily, the drop wasn’t too severe. But the huge waves and their back twist at the bottom were more than our canoe could handle, and we were spewed into a 38-degree bath of ice water. We both knew that we had less than ten minutes to make it to shore or we would freeze. It was a tremendous test of strength, endurance, and determination, but somehow we dragged ourselves and our boat onto the rocks before we collapsed.

I remember one time meeting a fine young married man who was not very large in stature. He was a professional jockey who had worked for some Latter-day Saint men who owned a large stable of fine racehorses. They taught him how to be a first-class jockey and chose him to ride a truly great horse that they owned. They also taught Johnny the gospel, and he joined the Church.
A year later, his bishop called him to go on a mission. Johnny said, “I can’t go. I’ve got to ride this special horse in the Kentucky Derby. I’m the only jockey who has ridden him.”
However, after some thought, Johnny went to his bosses and asked for their permission to go on a mission. They told him that they had a huge investment in him and couldn’t spare him to go on a mission because of the Derby and the other big races that were coming up. They were sure their horse would win the triple crown. However, neither of his Latter-day Saint bosses felt very good about their decision, so the next day they told him if he wanted to go on a mission, they wouldn’t stand in his way.
He went on his mission, and on the day of the Kentucky Derby, he went tracting in Canada while the horse he would have ridden won. It went on to win the triple crown. The other jockey earned over $200,000 while this fine young man taught the people of Canada the gospel. To me he is an outstanding hero.

At age 15 I came to the realization that some of the religious traditions my parents had taught me did not agree with what I read in the Bible. I also realized I needed to leave behind activities that were wasting my time—and my youth. I determined not to do things just because others were.
I decided I needed to look for the Lord’s true Church. Fortunately my mother’s coworker invited us to attend a meeting of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints one Sunday. I was nervous, but when I got to the building, my feelings changed. The atmosphere was one of reverence, and I felt a spirit of calm in my heart. At church that day I learned to pray.
The following week my mother and I started receiving the discussions from two sister missionaries, and a month later we were baptized. Although I didn’t know all the doctrine of the Church before my baptism, I exercised enough faith to know that the Church is true and to receive a witness from the Spirit.

I have fond memories of the day of my baptism when I was eight years old. It was performed in the Liniers Branch, the first chapel of the Church built in South America. After my baptism, as I was returning home along with my family, my oldest brother started wrestling with me, as he often did. I exclaimed, “Do not touch me! I cannot sin!” As the days passed, I realized that it was not possible to remain sinless for the rest of my life.