Gospel Story Finder

I am reminded of one sister I knew who had married a prospective elder, and their life rolled along. She became conscious of some of her lady friends whose husbands always went with them to Church affairs, sang in the choir together, went to the temple together, and seemed to be happy and content with life. She began to nag her husband: “Why can’t you treat me like other men treat their wives? Why don’t you become more active in the Church?”

It happened that they lived in an active ward where fellowshiping was almost an obsession, and sure enough, the day came when this inactive man caught the total spirit and received much joy in his family and Church activity. The woman who had been so unhappy before was now unhappy with his new dedication and upbraided him: “Why do you have to give all your time and thought to Church work? Why can’t you be like other men are and treat me to a little fun and pleasure?” Her constant nagging finally wore him down, and he reverted again to the inactive status.

My quorum means a lot to me, but I don’t tell people this very often. I like doing things for the quorum, like the time we went camping at Three Mile Lake and I was in charge of the food. Everything went okay except the corn bread. I thought if chocolate was good and corn bread was good, they’d be terrific together. They weren’t. The quorum hasn’t quite forgotten that little episode, and I’ve been banned for some time from all cooking. Oh, well. Then about two weeks ago the quorum president called to ask me to visit the deacon who’d moved into our ward. “Sure,” I said, “what’s his name?”
“Jerry Snook.”
“The Jerry Snook at Chief Joseph? The Jerry Snook who is the terror of the classroom?”
“You got it.”
“But I’m sure he’s not a member.”
“Sorry. He’s just moved in from the Third Ward. He’s been inactive most of his life, I guess.”
I wasn’t surprised. Jerry wasn’t the kind of kid you’d expect to meet at church. “Do I have to do this alone?”
“Nope, we’ve asked Paul David to help you.”
“Thanks, he’ll be a big help.” I mean Paul’s a nice kid, but he’s a little different. Most of his classes at school are for students who don’t learn very fast. Still, he’s a deacon, passes the sacrament with us, and participates in the lessons. And he likes to tease me about the chocolate corn bread. But for Jerry Snook I wanted somebody strong.
“And don’t worry,” said the quorum president. “He’s already agreed to work with you.”
“Wonderful,” I said. And then I spoke very rapidly. “I can’t go see Jerry. He hates me. It’s true. Once when I said in English that I’d like to race a stock car, Jerry said real loud, ‘Dwayne, you could be the stock car.’ Even my teacher, Mr. Robertson, laughed.”
“You’ll do great. Just try to see him soon. Invite him to church.”
“You’re sure he’s a member?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. Good luck.”

I hung up the phone. At first I planned to call and see when Paul would want to go out. But I decided to wait until that evening because I wanted to be sure to catch him. I told my dad about the phone call, and he said he’d be glad to help in any way. That night he helped by asking if I’d been able to reach Paul. It was a little after nine, and I didn’t want to wake him. He might have been asleep. So I decided to wait until Monday. Jerry wasn’t in my English class, which was a relief. And I didn’t see Paul. I didn’t call him that night either because I didn’t want to interrupt his family home evening. My dad must have asked about ten times if I’d set up a time with Paul. Each time I promised I’d try real soon.

Tuesday I concluded it was time to give Paul a ring, but when I wasn’t sure which David family to call, I thought I’d wait a day or so. When my dad found out I didn’t know the correct phone number, he looked it up. “Paul’s father is named Emory,” he said, “and the number is 754–3961.”

The next day in English I found out why I hadn’t seen Jerry for a few days. Evidently, he had broken his leg playing touch football. I didn’t feel very bad about it, but at least I kept my feelings to myself. I also figured I’d wait a week before visiting him so he’d have time to recuperate.

That night I was surprised when Paul called me on the phone. “Dwayne,” he said slowly.
“Yes?”
“We need to see Jerry.”
“I know. I’ve been trying to call, but your phone is always busy.”
“Oh.”
“Listen, he’s got a broken leg, and I think we ought to let him get up and about before we go see him. Don’t you agree?”
“I think we ought to go see him tomorrow.”
“Well, Paul,” I explained, “we can’t do that because we’ve got to let him know we’re coming, and it’s too late to do that now.”
“I know.”
“Great. Well, I’ll call him tomorrow or so and set up a day.”
“I already talked to him.”
“You what?”
“I called him, and he said to come on over.”
“Did you say I was coming?”
“I just said that a friend and I would be over tomorrow.”
“Hmm, tomorrow. You know, I’m pretty busy most days, and I’ve got things to do tomorrow.”
“I told him tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow after school?”
“Yeah.”
“All right, all right. We’ll go tomorrow.” I paused for a second. “Hey, Paul, we don’t know where he lives.”
“I do. You come here, and we’ll walk over together.”
“Fine, fine.” I told my dad that we had an appointment with Jerry, and he seemed happy.

I met Paul the next day at his house, kind of a small place with two big trees in the front. “It’s not far,” Paul said. “We can walk.” It wasn’t that close either, and I was puffing a bit when we stopped in front of a brand-new house in a recently developed area.

“This is Jerry’s address,” Paul said. My hands felt clammy, and my stomach twisted as it always does before I have to climb a rope in PE or give a talk at church or tell my folks I failed a test. We walked up the steps, and Paul knocked on the door.

A thin, tall woman with blond hair opened the door. “Yes?” she said, looking at Paul and me as if she had caught us trying to steal the cement steps we were standing on. “Can I help you?” she added.

“We came to see Jerry,” I said, “that is if he’s not asleep or busy or eating or anything, because we can always come back.” The woman leaned forward a bit, raised her eyebrows, and slightly pursed her lips.

Paul cleared his throat a little and said, “We’re friends of his. I called yesterday.”

“Oh yes, from the Church.” She continued to look at me. “You know, we don’t go to church very often. In fact I can’t remember the last time.” She looked at Paul. “Well, come in, come in.” She ushered us into the living room, where we sat on some hard, wooden chairs. “Jerry, oh Jerry,” she called down the hall, “the boys that called yesterday are here.”

“Okay,” he said, sounding bored. After a moment I could hear a thump, thump, thump that grew louder.

“He’s not used to the crutches yet,” his mother said. “His accident has got him down, I think.”

At that moment a cast-covered leg poked through the hallway door, followed by a very redfaced Jerry who struggled with his crutches. He stared at me a moment. “What are you doing here?” he said.

“Oh,” said his mother, “you really do know each other.”

“A little,” I said.

“Yeah, yeah. At school,” Jerry added with a hint of a smirk.

“Well, I’ll leave you boys for now,” said his mother as she went into the kitchen.

Jerry backed up to a chair and flopped down. “So you’re a Mormon,” he said.

“Yes,” I answered, my voice cracking a little. “Both of us are.” I looked quickly at Paul.

“Yeah, we’re Mormons, and we came by to invite you to come to church,” he said.

Slow down, I thought. Now he’ll really lay into us.

“To church?” Jerry said.

“Yes, to church. It’s a good place to go, and we have a good time.”

Jerry shifted his crutches to the side of his chair. “You guys want me to come to church, huh?” He glanced at me. “You want me to come even if I call you fatso and chubby?” He was smiling.

“Well,” I said, my eyes a little out of focus, “sure, we both do.”

“That’s kind of funny, you know,” Jerry said. “You guys want me to come to church. I haven’t been to church for a long, long time.”

“There’s always a first time,” Paul said.

“Yeah, there’s always a first time,” Jerry laughed for a second.

We were all quiet a moment.

“How’d you hurt your leg?” I asked.

“I was playing football and tripped.” He looked a little embarrassed. “I feel like a jerk.”

“I know what you mean,” I said, and he looked at me sharply. “That is, I’m clumsy all the time.”

“You mean like when you dropped your tray in the cafeteria?”

“Yeah, and it had everything on it.” Even I could laugh about that incident.

“Well, that wasn’t so bad. You should have seen me when I tripped. What a klutz.”

“When are you coming back to school?” Paul asked.

“I don’t know. Probably in a few more days. The doctor said it was a pretty bad break and that I ought to take it easy.”

“That’s too bad. We’re working on predicate nominatives in English. Believe me, they aren’t any fun. And Mr. Robertson is as hard to understand as ever.”

“I’ll probably have to work hard to catch up.”

We all started talking about our different classes, the ones we liked and didn’t like, the easy and hard ones. Jerry’s mom brought out some punch. When we finished, Paul and I said that we had to go. We thanked Sister Snook for giving us something to drink. Jerry came with us to the door, not an easy feat when you’re not used to crutches. “You know,” he said, “nobody ever asked me to go to church. I mean just me.”

“You should come.”

“Maybe. Maybe I will.” Jerry looked out into the street. “Is the church far?”

“No,” answered Paul, “just down the street a couple of blocks. We could come by and get you.”

“Give me a call, okay?”

Paul and I stepped outside. “Maybe we’ll come by one of these days,” Paul said.

“Sure,” said Jerry. “Why don’t both of you come?”

It was getting dark, so we waved good-bye and headed home.

After a moment or two Paul said, “Well, we made a start.”

I left Paul at his house and walked home. When I got there, I told my dad how things had gone. He seemed pretty pleased. I felt pretty good myself. And then I had to settle down and study my predicate nominatives. They still weren’t any fun.

The problem has been duplicated many times in many places and in many different forms, but it is the response that makes this instance worthy of imitation. The chronological events tell the story:
1. Spring 1970—The associate student senate at California State College at Fullerton voted to cancel funds for the college-sponsored baseball tournament in which Brigham Young University had been invited to participate.
2. Shortly thereafter, Brent Romney, regional president of the Santa Ana region of the LDS Student Association, wrote an article to the student newspaper. He encouraged Mormon youth to write letters. He addressed the senate. The senate reversed its decision.
3. March 1970—A special election was held for the office of senator from the science and education area. Brent ran and won. Then it was decided that a mistake had been made and no senatorial seat was available for Brent.
4. May 1970—Regular elections were held. Brent ran for senator and won again. At the first meeting he was nominated for speaker of the senate. The race narrowed to two persons. Brent lost.
5. November 1970—Speaker of the senate quit. Brent ran for the office. After two weeks of deadlocked balloting, he won office and held it for the remainder of the year.
6. May 1971—Along with seven others, Brent ran for studentbody president. He placed second highest and in a run-off won by twenty-one votes. Black students report that it is their vote that won it for Brent—75 percent of the black vote went to the Mormon whom they had learned to trust.—JMT

A true story from the USA.
Lucas and Lexi are brother and sister. They like to work and play together.
Lucas is blind. This means he can’t see well. Lexi has a clubfoot. This means her foot is twisted, and it’s hard to walk. Lucas helps Lexi walk when her legs get tired. Lexi reads to Lucas when his eyes get tired. They like to help each other.
Lucas and Lexi like playing on the playground. Lucas helps Lexi if she trips and falls. Lexi helps Lucas if he can’t find the monkey bars.
Lucas and Lexi like playing board games. Lexi reads the rules to Lucas. Lucas helps Lexi figure out her next move.
Lucas and Lexi like music. Lucas likes to play the piano. Lexi likes to sing. Sometimes Lucas plays the piano while Lexi sings.
Lucas and Lexi like helping each other. Lucas sometimes helps Lexi make her bed. Lexi sometimes helps Lucas pick up his toys.
Lucas and Lexi like reading scripture stories. They like learning about Jesus Christ and how He helped others. Jesus loved those He helped.
Lucas loves helping Lexi, and Lexi loves helping Lucas. They love Jesus Christ and want to be like Him. Jesus loves Lucas and Lexi. He loves that they help each other.
Watch a video about this story here!
Illustrations by Natalie Briscoe

This year marks the 200th anniversary of the birth of John Rowe Moyle. John was a convert to the Church who left his home in England and traveled to the Salt Lake Valley as part of a handcart company. He built a home for his family in a small town a valley away from Salt Lake City. John was an accomplished stonecutter and, because of this skill, was asked to work on the Salt Lake Temple.
Every Monday John left home at two o’clock in the morning and walked six hours in order to be at his post on time. On Friday he would leave his work at five o’clock in the evening and walk almost until midnight before arriving home. He did this year after year.
One day, while he was doing his chores at home, a cow kicked him in the leg, causing a compound fracture. With limited medical resources, the only option was to amputate the broken leg. So John’s family and friends strapped him onto a door and, with a bucksaw, cut off his leg a few inches from the knee.
In spite of the crude surgery, the leg started to heal. Once John could sit up in bed, he began carving a wooden leg with an ingenious joint that served as an ankle to an artificial foot. Walking on this device was extremely painful, but John did not give up, building up his endurance until he could make the 22-mile (35-km) journey to the Salt Lake Temple each week, where he continued his work.
His hands carved the words “Holiness to the Lord” that stand today as a golden marker to all who visit the Salt Lake Temple.
John did not do this for the praise of man. Neither did he shirk his duty, even though he had every reason to do so. He knew what the Lord expected him to do.
Years later, John’s grandson Henry D. Moyle was called as a member of the Quorum of the Twelve and, eventually, served in the First Presidency of the Church. President Moyle’s service in these callings was honorable, but his grandfather John’s service, though somewhat less public, is just as pleasing to the Lord. John’s character, his legacy of sacrifice, serves as a banner of faithfulness and an ensign of duty to his family and to the Church. John Rowe Moyle understood the meaning of “lift where you stand.”

As I was watching the Rose Bowl game on television the other day, I had a flashback of something that happened on a high school football field not too far from that Rose Bowl many years ago when I was playing high school football. Speaking of getting off to a bad start, I think I hold the record. It was my first year of high school football. I’d been playing second string all through the practice games, and this was the first big league game. Six thousand cheering people were in the stands. As we were breaking after our halftime pep talk, the coach suddenly said, “Simpson, you start the second half.” The old adrenaline came rushing, and I went charging out onto the field. This was my chance. Just about that time the coach said, “Oh, and by the way, I want you to kick off, Simpson.” I determined right then and there that I was going to kick that ball farther than any football had ever been kicked in history. I really wanted to make a good showing on my first chance on the first string. Well, the referee waved his arm and blew his whistle. I could hear those six thousand people. I looked at that ball and came charging down the field. I felt everything tingling in my body; the excitement was so high. Well, you have probably already guessed it. I missed the ball. Six thousand people went wild. But that isn’t the half of it. This was back in the days when the quarterback held the ball with his finger. I broke the quarterback’s finger.

Now, if you think that you’re off to a bad start, I just want to set your mind at ease and let you know that it could be worse. I also want you to know that I had a coach that had confidence because he left me in. I don’t know why, but he did, and I played the rest of the game. If I weren’t so modest, I might also tell you that I made all-league that year.

We often find it difficult to accept things that we cannot change. I know a man who does not believe in God. He continually stresses that he is only happy, at least as most people understand happiness, when he himself has control of every situation and has a firm grip on the reins of his life. Several years ago he had an accident. At that time, he almost despaired at the fact that others held the reins and had the power to decide what would happen to him. He kept asking himself the question, “How could I have had so little control over my life that such an accident could happen to me?” When he started to feel better, he attributed his recovery to himself alone, not to the doctors, and definitely not to the prayers of his faithful wife. He simply could not accept the reality of his accident.

… As a missionary, I was speaking [in London, England, when a heckler interrupted], “Why don’t you stay with the doctrine of the Bible which says in John (4:24), ‘God is a Spirit’?”
I opened my Bible to the verse he had quoted and read to him the entire verse: “God is a Spirit: and they that worship him must worship him in spirit and in truth.”
I said, “Of course God is a spirit, and so are you, in the combination of spirit and body that makes of you a living being, and so am I.”
Each of us is a dual being of spiritual entity and physical entity. All know of the reality of death … , and each of us also knows that the spirit lives on as an individual entity and that at some time, under the divine plan made possible by the sacrifice of the Son of God, there will be a reunion of spirit and body. Jesus’s declaration that God is a spirit no more denies that He has a body than does the statement that I am a spirit while also having a body.

Everyone has to be converted. Everyone at some point in life has to know for themselves that Jesus is the Savior. At youth conference, the testimony was so strong that I began to feel it too. I prayed the night we got home, and the next day at testimony meeting, for the first time since I was a child, I bore my testimony. I felt for myself that Jesus is the Savior.
Rachel Yorke, 16Hayward, California

A mission is a couple of years in the future, but it’s something 17-year-old Jeremy thinks a lot about now. Where will he be called? Will he have the opportunity to learn a language? What will a mission be like? What more can he do to get ready?
Jeremy Pownall lives in Sydney, Australia, a place known for its famous opera house, great climate, relaxed lifestyle, and surfing. Actually, body-boarding is his passion right now, although he pretty much only gets to go for a few hours early Saturday mornings. He is just getting his mind around the fact that when he goes on his mission he’ll be leaving the beach and the waves behind. After all, a lot of his surf mates have done it. In fact, those mates are the very ones who are the most effective in convincing him that he really can serve a mission and be more than happy about it.
“There’s nothing like an early-morning yarn going to the surf,” he says. “I go with the returned missionaries in the ward and my Young Men leaders. They are great advice givers. All of them say that there will be great experiences in your life, but a mission is the best experience for your life.”
What do a bunch of LDS surfers talk about at the beach? Jeremy smiles slightly and says, “We talk about the waves we’ve caught and the places we’re going to travel to, where we would like to go on a mission or where they’ve been on their missions. The older guys tell us to definitely marry in the temple. And they remind us that we are going to marry the girls we date.” Being surrounded by surf and sand seems to be the right spot for all this good advice to sink in.
Jeremy admits that he really is a listener. And he soaks in the good advice that comes from his mentors, the ones who are a few years ahead of him on the road of life. “They tell me that if I ever do something that I regret, to never feel uncomfortable about going to my bishop or talking to my parents.”
In another instance, at Young Men camp, he listened when someone got up and spoke about his patriarchal blessing. “I hadn’t thought too much about that,” he recalls. “A week later I went for my interview, and a month later I got my patriarchal blessing.”
In talking about his testimony, Jeremy mentions one of his mentors in particular. “He’s one of my dad’s friends from New Zealand. Whenever he comes here, he goes out of his way to take me surfing. It’s a perfect opportunity for us to talk. The talks I’ve had with him are a major part of my conversion story.”
Sometimes it is in the relaxing moments out in the water or on the drive to the beach when what is said is the easiest to listen to. For Jeremy, that’s where his own testimony came into focus.
The next step in his conversion was bearing that testimony. “I think my testimony grew exponentially when I started bearing it more often and more freely. I feel more confident.”
After all, he points out, he does live in the mission field every day. “A lot of people respect me for my morals, especially here in Australia. Here people at 14 will start going to parties, getting drunk, and trying smoking and drugs. They respect me for still being an interesting and outgoing sort of person, yet not doing any of that stuff.”
Jeremy has big plans for the future. His success in school and his interest in learning languages might lead to becoming an ambassador or diplomat. “Everyone complains about how world leaders are doing things at the moment. I think I could do a better job. Maybe they need the Spirit to guide them.”
Jeremy is sensitive to the impressions of the Spirit. He listens to those who have made good choices. He pays attention to his seminary teacher and his youth leaders. And he likes what he hears.
The bottom line is that he is happy. He had a friend tell him once that she envied people from his church because they all seemed to be happy. Jeremy agrees. He says he has always treasured that about the gospel. “I’m blessed to live in Australia. I’m blessed to have a good family and be brought up in the gospel. I don’t want to waste it.”

For example, Roy D. Atkin noticed a number of his classmates drop out after the first year of dental school as the classes became more competitive.
He said, “Some students decided that the way to succeed was by cheating. …
“… But I knew I couldn’t cheat. I wanted to be right with God even more than I wanted to become a dentist.”
During his third year, Roy was offered a copy of an upcoming test. He had the chance to have the test questions ahead of time, but he declined. When the corrected tests were returned, his score was low compared to the high class average.
“Roy,” his professor said, “you usually do well on tests. What happened?”
“Sir,” he said, “on the next exam, if you give a test that you have never given before, I believe you will find that I do very well.”
When the next test was handed out, there were audible groans. It was a test the teacher had never given before. When the graded tests were handed back, Roy had received one of the highest grades in the class. From then on, all the tests were new.1

For many years Sister Bednar and I hosted faithful men and women as devotional speakers at Brigham Young University–Idaho. Many of these speakers were emeritus or released members of the Seventy who had served as temple presidents following their service as General Authorities. As we talked with these stalwart leaders, I always asked this question: “What have you learned as a temple president that you wish you had better understood when you were a General Authority?”
As I listened to their answers, I discovered a consistent theme that I would summarize as follows: “I have come to understand better the protection available through our temple covenants and what it means to make an acceptable offering of temple worship. There is a difference between church-attending, tithe-paying members who occasionally rush into the temple to go through a session and those members who faithfully and consistently worship in the temple.”
The similarity of their answers impressed me greatly. Each response to my question focused upon the protecting power of the ordinances and covenants available in the house of the Lord. Their answers precisely paralleled the promises contained in the dedicatory prayer offered upon the Kirtland Temple in 1836:
“We ask thee, Holy Father, to establish the people that shall worship, and honorably hold a name and standing in this thy house, to all generations and for eternity;
“That no weapon formed against them shall prosper; that he who diggeth a pit for them shall fall into the same himself;
“That no combination of wickedness shall have power to rise up and prevail over thy people upon whom thy name shall be put in this house;
“And if any people shall rise against this people, that thine anger be kindled against them;
“And if they shall smite this people thou wilt smite them; thou wilt fight for thy people as thou didst in the day of battle, that they may be delivered from the hands of all their enemies” (D&C 109:24–28).
Please consider these verses in light of the current raging of the adversary and what we have discussed about our willingness to take upon us the name of Jesus Christ and the blessing of protection promised to those who honorably hold a name and standing in the holy temple. Significantly, these covenant blessings are to all generations and for all eternity. I invite you to study repeatedly and ponder prayerfully the implications of these scriptures in your life and for your family.
We should not be surprised by Satan’s efforts to thwart or discredit temple worship and work. The devil despises the purity in and the power of the Lord’s house. And the protection available to each of us in and through temple ordinances and covenants stands as a great obstacle to the evil designs of Lucifer.
The exodus from Nauvoo in September of 1846 caused unimaginable hardship for the faithful Latter-day Saints. Many sought shelter in camps along the Mississippi River. When word reached Brigham Young at Winter Quarters about the condition of these refugees, he immediately sent a letter across the river to Council Point encouraging the brethren to help—reminding them of the covenant made in the Nauvoo Temple. He counseled: “Now is the time for labor. Let the fire of the covenant which you made in the House of the Lord, burn in your hearts, like flame unquenchable” (in Journal History of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, Sept. 28, 1846, 5). Within days, wagons were rolling eastward to rescue the struggling Saints.
What was it that gave those early Saints such strength? It was the fire of the temple covenant that burned in their hearts. It was their commitment to worship and honorably hold a name and standing in the house of the Lord.
We do now and will yet face great challenges to the work of the Lord. But like the pioneers who found the place which God for them prepared, so we will fresh courage take, knowing our God will never us forsake (see “Come, Come, Ye Saints,” Hymns, no. 30). Today temples dot the earth as sacred places of ordinances and covenants, of edification, and of refuge from the storm.
The Lord declared, “I must gather together my people, … that the wheat may be secured in the garners to possess eternal life, and be crowned with celestial glory” (D&C 101:65).
Within the sound of my voice are many young women, young men, and children. I plead with you to be worthy, to be steadfast, and to look forward with great anticipation to the day you will receive the ordinances and blessings of the temple.
Within the sound of my voice are individuals who should have but have not yet received the ordinances of the house of the Lord. Whatever the reason, however long the delay, I invite you to begin making the spiritual preparations so you can receive the blessings available only in the holy temple. Please cast away the things in your life that stand in the way. Please seek after the things that are of eternal consequence.
Within the sound of my voice are individuals who have received the ordinances of the temple and for various reasons have not returned to the house of the Lord in quite some time. Please repent, prepare, and do whatever needs to be done so you can again worship in the temple and more fully remember and honor your sacred covenants.
Within the sound of my voice are many individuals who hold current temple recommends and strive worthily to use them. I commend you for your faithfulness and devotion.
I bear solemn witness that the fire of the covenant will burn in the heart of every faithful member of this Church who shall worship and honorably hold a name and standing in the Lord’s holy house. Jesus the Christ is our Redeemer and Savior. He lives, and He directs the affairs of His Church through revelation to His anointed servants. Of these things I bear witness in the sacred name of the Lord Jesus Christ, amen.

It was not much longer in my own life, having seen the burden that my father carried so joyfully, until I too found the thrill and joy of gospel service. In fact, when I returned to the States after completing my assignment in Japan with the occupation troops after World War II, I discovered that one month before I was due to return my name had been presented in stake conference and I had been called to be a counselor in the stake MIA. This was a great blessing to me, for in this position, as I presided at one of the stake meetings one night, I saw a beautiful lady in the congregation who later became my wife.

“Before I was eight years old, I sometimes walked in my sleep. I would get up at night without knowing it and do strange things. One night I went to a neighbor’s home and told them that my parents weren’t home. Another time, I walked into a neighbors’ home in the middle of the night and gave them a bunch of daisies because they had just had a new baby. When I learned about what I had done, I became very frightened and couldn’t sleep at night. My mother suggested that I pray about my problem. She prayed with me that I would be able to sleep without sleepwalking. From then on, I was able to sleep without fear. Praying and receiving that help was a personal, spiritual experience for me.”

Although many of our activities are the same as those of other boys around the world, we get to see and do different things because of the unique land we live in. For example, a few weeks ago the Cub Scouts and the Boy Scouts hiked through Wadi Kelt. A wadi is a riverbed at the bottom of a valley that is usually dry except during the rainy season. This wadi winds through part of the Judean wilderness, and is it hot! All you can see for miles around are bare, rocky hills and clear blue sky.
Many people believe that Wadi Kelt is the place where Elijah, an Old Testament prophet, was fed by ravens when he sealed the heavens so that no rain would fall.
After hiking through this wadi, I can see why Heavenly Father had to provide food for Elijah—there is nothing out there to keep a person alive! So before we started, we made sure that we packed a lunch and filled our canteens full of water. Our Cub Scout leaders kept reminding us to drink lots of water so that we wouldn’t get sick from the heat.
Our hike began fifteen miles away from Jericho and took us about four hours. We had lots of fun as we followed the wadi through the desert. Some of the boys spotted ibex on the steep cliffs. They look like wild goats, with huge horns that they butt with.
My friends and I also saw a bedouin shepherd with a herd of goats. Bedouins are desert people who live in tents and wander from place to place. Many of them still wear long robes and veils to protect them from the scorching sun.
About an hour after we had started, we came to a small waterfall that tumbled into a green pool below. Swimming in it was my favorite part of the hike, because that’s my best sport, besides basketball. The cool water felt good after our climb down the hillside, and before long we were all in the pool, splashing around and sliding down mossy rocks.
Ryan and Shaun Dennett, two friends in my den, found some dead crabs in the water. They scared some of the boys when they threw the crab legs at them. We also found some frogs, only they weren’t dead.
We sat on big rocks in the sun and dried off while we ate our lunches. Boy, did the cheese sandwich my mom packed taste good! I was starving! Just as I finished my last mouthful, Joel Galbraith, one of the older Scouts, called out, “Time to go. We still have a lot of hiking to do.”
As we climbed deeper into the dry valley, Shaun, Aaron, and I pretended that we were in the army. Aaron was a general, Shaun was a sergeant, and I was a colonel. We ran ahead and hid and dropped off cliffs, scaring the others as they came by.
Sometimes we would march along in the wadi, which was full of water from desert springs. The bottom and sides of it were slippery, and we pretended that we were ice-skating. At times the water was flowing so fast that it would push us along. The moss along the bottom was great to throw, and we had the best water and moss fight. We called it slime fighting.
Some parts of the hike were really steep, and a lot of us slipped on the loose rocks on the path. Joshua Rona, another Cub Scout, fell and hurt his foot. But Ian Boyd and Steve Rona, two older Scouts, made a foot brace for him out of a bandanna. It was pretty tricky.
The last part of the hike was the hardest. The sun beat down on us, and my feet hurt. But I continued to run ahead and look for the place that marked the end of our hike—St. George’s Monastery.
On my way I saw a man and two donkeys by the side of the wadi. The wadi is the only place where desert people can obtain water, and donkeys and camels are the only means by which water can be carried from the wadi to their tents.
At last I saw the great monastery, built on the side of the cliff. It sure looked neat, but I was just as interested in getting to the top, where a stand with cold drinks and ice cream was waiting.

Last November, I had the privilege of being invited—along with President Henry B. Eyring and Bishop Gérald Caussé—to attend a colloquium on marriage and family at the Vatican in Rome, Italy. In attendance were religious representatives from 14 different faiths and from six of the seven continents, all of whom had been invited to express their beliefs on what is happening to the family in today’s world.
Pope Francis opened the first session of the assembly with this statement: “We now live in a culture of the temporary, in which more and more people are simply giving up on marriage as a public commitment. This revolution in manners and morals has often flown the flag of freedom, but in fact it has brought spiritual and material devastation to countless human beings, especially the poorest and most vulnerable. … It is always they who suffer the most in this crisis.”1
In referring to those of the rising generation, he said it is important that they “do not give themselves over to the poisonous [mentality] of the temporary, but rather be revolutionaries with the courage to seek true and lasting love, going against the common pattern”; this must be done.2
This was followed by three days of presentation and discussion with religious leaders addressing the subject of marriage between a man and a woman. As I listened to the widest imaginable variety of worldwide religious leaders, I heard them agree completely with each other and express support for one another’s beliefs on the sanctity of the institution of marriage and of the importance of families as the basic unit of society. I felt a powerful sense of commonality and unity with them.
There were many who saw and expressed this unity, and they did so in a variety of ways. One of my favorites was when a Muslim scholar from Iran quoted two paragraphs verbatim from our very own proclamation on the family.
During the colloquium, I observed that when various faiths and denominations and religions are united on marriage and family, they are also united on the values and loyalty and commitment which are naturally associated with family units. It was remarkable for me to see how marriage and family-centered priorities cut across and superseded any political, economic, or religious differences. When it comes to love of spouse and hopes, worries, and dreams for children, we are all the same.
It was marvelous to be in meetings with worldwide presenters as they universally addressed their feelings of the importance of marriage between a man and a woman. Each of their addresses was followed by testimonies from other religious leaders. President Henry B. Eyring gave a final testimony at the colloquium. He bore powerful witness to the beauty of a committed marriage and to our belief in the promised blessing of eternal families.
President Eyring’s testimony was a fitting benediction to those three special days.

The Aaronic Priesthood is a very real power. One young man wrote this of his experience in exercising this power:
“At one time I attended a ward which had almost no Melchizedek Priesthood holders in it. But it was not in any way dulled in spirituality. On the contrary, many of its members witnessed the greatest display of priesthood power they had ever known.
“The power was centered in the priests. For the first time in their lives they were called upon to perform all the duties of the priests and administer to the needs of their fellow ward members. They were seriously called to home teach—not just to be a yawning appendage to an elder making a social call but to bless their brothers and sisters.
“Previous to this time I had been with four of these priests in a different situation. … They drove away every seminary teacher after two or three months. They spread havoc over the countryside on Scouting trips. But when they were needed—when they were trusted with a vital mission—they were among those who shone the most brilliantly in priesthood service.
“The secret was that the bishop called upon his Aaronic Priesthood to rise to the stature of men to whom angels might well appear; and they rose to that stature, administering relief to those who might be in want and strengthening those who needed strengthening. Not only were the other ward members built up but so were the members of the quorum themselves. A great unity spread throughout the ward and every member began to have a taste of what it is for a people to be of one mind and one heart. There was nothing inexplicable in all of this; it was just the proper exercise of the Aaronic Priesthood.”

It had been a long, hard day at work, and I was exhausted. I could hardly wait to get home, kick off my shoes, slump on the couch, and relax to the soothing beat of my favorite album.
With this appealing thought in mind, I climbed the porch steps and opened the front door. To my surprise, I found not the serenity I’d expected but rather the third world war in progress. As you may have guessed if you have any of your own, my mischievous little brothers were acting as the two opposing generals.
I was just in time to hear Kurt scream, “Give it back! That’s mine!” This was countered with Todd’s sassy, “If you don’t give it here, I’ll tell mom.” Kurt merely shrugged his shoulders and said, “Go ahead, crybaby. You don’t scare me.”
I was just about to intervene, when suddenly the object in dispute came sailing across the living room floor and landed right on top of my poor aching feet. Unable to check my anger, I lurched forward and grabbed Todd, the closest one to me. I was considering strangulation, which I thought would be the perfect cure, when more casually walked into the room.
Being terribly wound up by this time, I vented all my day’s frustrations on her. In a rather aggravated tone of voice I said, “Can’t you do something with these rotten boys? They’re mean and spiteful, and they’ve just made a perfectly awful day worse!” With that I turned and stormed off toward my bedroom, not noticing my mother’s disapproving glance or the hurt look on my brothers’ faces.
Once within the safe confines of my own room, I locked the door and proceeded to remove my shoes and socks and stretch out on the bed. I guess it was then that I noticed my journal resting haphazardly on my vanity. Not feeling like doing anything too strenuous, I decided to pick it up and browse through a few old memories. I suppose it was luck or maybe even a little heavenly guidance that caused the pages to fall open to page 25. Not that page 25 looked so spectacular, but the contents were just what I needed. The entry began something like this:
Dear Diary,
April 27th will always be a memorable day for me, not only because it marks the end of my first year at Ricks College, but also because it marks the beginning of a summer at home with my family. I know it will be hard to say good-bye to all my special new friends, but it will be easier knowing I take with me increased strength, testimony, and love of the gospel because of all they’ve shared with me. I’ve set an important goal to share this knowledge with my family in hopes they too will want to share it with others. It is late now, and there will be much packing to do tomorrow, but I promise not to pack away this goal.
I continued to thumb through more of the pages, but the words were a blur and I was unable to concentrate on them. I was feeling very guilty for my earlier behavior and decided then and there to unpack that goal which had been in storage for too long.
Forgetting about my aching body, I slid my feet to the floor and quickly walked from my bedroom back to the living room. There I found my brothers pouting and looking somewhat out of sorts. I began by apologizing for my bad behavior, and to prove my sincerity, I offered to spend a whole day with each one individually, doing anything they wanted to do, within reason.
Todd, being the oldest, spoke up first and said he’d always wanted to pack a good lunch (potato chips, candy bars, and pop!) and then climb the mountain that had the high school’s letter “B” on it.
In my mind’s eye I pictured the distance and wondered what I’d gotten myself into. I had been thinking more along the line of an hour or two at the park, not a strenuous day climbing mountains. However, I’d given my word, so with all the courage I could muster, I told him I thought it was a great idea. Since the next day was my day off, we would be able to get an early start.
The bright morning sunshine popped into my room much sooner than I’d expected, and so did my brother Todd. He was dressed from head to foot and very eager to start the day’s activities. Seeing him, I rolled over and groaned, suggesting that maybe we should go some other time. He quickly reminded me that I’d promised we could go today. So while he packed the lunches, I got ready.
Before I knew it, we were on our way, with a perfectly beautiful summer’s day to accompany us. At first we walked and then we raced one another to the nearest lamp pole. We then tried to see who could skip the farthest. He won, of course.
The farther we went on our little journey, the more he began to open up to me. He mentioned some of his classmates and asked my advice on how to handle the school-yard bully. He talked a little about the family and how he felt he fit in. He even blushed when he told me I was the first to know that he had a girl friend and she was the cutest second grader around. I laughed and said his secret was safe with me. He then asked me if we could sing some Primary songs, which we did, until the terrain became so steep and bushy that it was all we could do just to climb and still breathe.
We were able to help one another by pushing and pulling, and before long we had scaled the mountain and stood on top of the large white-painted “B.” Both of us were huffing and puffing, and somehow our tiredness made everything seem terribly funny. We laughed over our soggy sandwiches and hot pop. Even the melted chocolate bars seemed somewhat hilarious.
When we no longer had energy to laugh, we composed ourselves and gazed over the beautiful valley below us. We marveled at the intricate handiwork of God. There was such a feeling of awe in our hearts that we felt it appropriate to kneel in prayer and thank our Heavenly Father for helping us to reach the mountaintop in safety.
Todd volunteered to offer the prayer, and afterwards I commented on what a good job he’d done and how much the Lord must love him. I asked him if he remembered earlier when we had been climbing and were so tired we felt we couldn’t go another step. He nodded and asked me if that wasn’t the reason we’d stopped and prayed for strength. I smiled in assurance and went on to explain that sometimes in everyday life we are given trials that seem even more difficult to climb than the mountain we sat on. But if we remember to always rely on the Lord’s strength, he will lift us and make the way possible for us to reach our goals. Having finally reached them, we will experience the same feeling of happiness that we felt when we’d reached the top of the mountain. Even though we won’t always see a big white “B” at the top of every trial we overcome, we will still feel a strength in our hearts. It will remind us that we can “B” anything we want to “B,” as long as we do it in righteousness.
At first I wasn’t sure if he had grasped the meaning of my symbolism. By the way he was bent over with his head in his hands, I supposed he hadn’t even listened to a word I’d said. So gently prodding, I asked, “Todd, did you understand what I was trying to say?” When he didn’t reply or even so much as flinch, I slowly lifted his head.
For a moment I was taken back when I saw the sweet humble tears rolling down his cheeks. I vowed then to never pack away my summer goal again.

Between 1856 and 1860 a few thousand Saints successfully made the 1,300-mile (2,090 km) journey by handcart. The success of their travel was marred only by two fateful trips, the Willie and Martin handcart companies, which left too late in the year to avoid the early winter snows. Again, notice the genius of President Young. At the October 1856 general conference, he devoted the entire conference to organizing the relief effort to assist those distressed Saints. And he instructed the brethren not to wait a week or a month before they went. He wanted several four-horse teams ready the following Monday to go and relieve the suffering of the Saints caught in the snows. And that’s exactly what happened.

The first relief parties were on their way the following Monday. The description of the Willie company’s joy upon receiving that first relief party brings emotions close to the surface. Captain Willie had left his small band and gone out with a single companion in search of the relief train.
History records: “On the evening of the third day after Captain Willie’s departure, just as the sun was sinking beautifully behind the distant hills, on an eminence, immediately west of our camp, several covered wagons, each drawn by four horses, were seen coming towards us. The news ran through the camp like wildfire, and all who were able to leave their beds turned out en masse to see them. A few minutes brought them sufficiently near to reveal our faithful captain slightly in advance of the train. Shouts of joy rent the air; strong men wept until tears ran freely down their furrowed and sunburnt cheeks, and little children partook of the joy which some of them hardly understood, and fairly danced around with gladness. Restraint was set aside in the general rejoicing, and as the brethren entered [the] camp the sisters fell upon them and deluged them with kisses. The brethren were so overcome that they could not for some time utter a word, but in choking silence repressed all demonstration of … emotions. … Soon, however, feeling was somewhat abated, and such a shaking of hands, such words of welcome, and such invocation of God’s blessing have seldom been witnessed!”2

Elizabeth kicked an empty coconut shell down the dirt road. She frowned as it rolled away. Today had not been a good day.
Not at all!
Lagi said something mean to her at school. No one had played with her at recess. And then her art project got ruined. She’d worked on it for weeks!
“It’s not fair!” Elizabeth said. Who invented bad days anyway?
Elizabeth plucked a hibiscus flower. At least that was one good thing. In Samoa she could always find beautiful flowers. Even on a bad day.
She twisted the pink flower into her hair and walked home.
“Talofa!” Dad said. “How was your day?”
Elizabeth looked down. “Not very good.” She walked past the noisy pigs in their yard and sat next to Dad on the porch.
Dad listened as she told him all about her hard day.
“I’m so sorry,” Dad said, hugging her. “Days like that are really hard. Want to know something that might help?”
She nodded. “Yes, please!”
He started singing a song that Elizabeth knew well. It was a beautiful song that Dad sang to Mom all the time.
She laughed and pushed on his shoulder. “Daa–aad! That doesn’t fix anything.”
He grinned. “I’m serious! Good music can always help your day go better. And, speaking of music …”
Elizabeth knew what he was going to say. It was time to practice piano.
More than anything, Elizabeth wanted to learn piano so she could play songs in church. She already loved singing with her family. Especially with Dad. But playing piano was harder. Her fingers had to work to find the notes.
“I don’t know if I feel like practicing today,” she said.
Dad stood up. “Maybe it would help to think about what you’re playing.”
Then he took off his sandals and went inside to help with dinner. Elizabeth took off her sandals and followed him.
The sheet music for “Fa‘afetai i Le Atua” sat on the keyboard. Elizabeth loved this Samoan hymn. It was all about giving thanks to God.
Elizabeth turned on the electric keyboard and started playing. “Think about what you’re playing,” Dad had said.
Elizabeth decided to try it. She thought about all the things she was thankful for. Her family. Her house. Music. Beautiful Samoa.
Her fingers started to find the notes more easily. After a while, her feelings began to change. She felt peaceful. Elizabeth smiled. She was feeling the Holy Ghost!
Dad started humming. He stood next to her and began to sing.
She kept playing, and Mom joined in too. Elizabeth kept thinking about all the ways God blessed her and her family.
At the end, Dad leaned down. “Feeling any better?” he asked.
“Yes!” she said. “You were right. Good music did make my day better!”
What helps you feel better on hard days?
Turn the page to learn more about Samoa!