Gospel Story Finder

1 “Stop it!”
“Stop it!”
Andrew stomped his foot and stuck his tongue out at his little sister. She did the same to him.
2 “Mom, I can’t take it anymore. Please make Sarah stop copying me.”
3 “I don’t know if we can stop Sarah from doing everything you do. Right now she is learning from your example and doing the things you teach her to do.”
“I didn’t teach her that.”
“Yes, you did. Sarah loves you and thinks you are a great big brother. She watches what you do and tries to do the same.”
4 “I still don’t like it when she copies what I do. It gives me a headache.”
5 “Remember, Jesus set a good example for us by showing love and being kind to others. You can show Sarah a good example by doing what Jesus did.”
6 Andrew thought about what Mom said. He decided he would try to be a good example. Andrew looked at Sarah and smiled.
“I love you.”
Sarah smiled back at him.
“I love you too.”

Sister Kearon and I have a particular sensitivity and great compassion for Israel and Elizabeth Barlow. Our first child, a boy named Sean, died during heart surgery when he was just three weeks old. This was an earth-shattering loss for us. At the time, we wondered if we could survive. We buried him in a painfully small grave in England. Fifteen years later, our family was asked to move from our home in the United Kingdom to serve full time in the Church, and we left that little grave behind.
We have the beginning of an understanding of what the Barlows went through. Our baby boy’s grave is very far away, yet like the Barlows, we have abiding faith in the Resurrection of Jesus Christ and the eternal nature of our family through the holy sealing covenant.

Ever since he was little, Chance A. has always loved movies. And growing up in a musical family, he’s always loved music too. Now, at age 17, he’s working—and already finding success—where movies and music come together.

“A lot of my favorite composers are film composers,” says Chance, who lives in Texas, USA. “I get so inspired by their music. I’m able to connect on an emotional level with the video and the music that attaches to it.”

He loves movie music so much that he wanted to give film scoring a try. So, of course, he searched “film-scoring contest” on the internet. In order to gain experience, he had entered a couple of small music-composition contests before, without any success. But then he saw the top hit on his web search: the fifth annual Marvin Hamlisch Film Scoring Contest. This international competition, named for a famous film composer, includes a youth category. It’s a pretty big deal. Chance decided to enter it. It would be good experience, he thought.

He was sent a four-minute animated film to score. He was excited. He was ready. He had time—the submission deadline was three months away. The music that had been bottled up inside him could now come pouring out.

But then weeks went by. He watched the video over and over, he thought, he prayed—and no inspiration came. Feeling completely blocked, he shared his frustration with his mom (who, incidentally, is a vocal performer and majored in music). It was a good move.

“There’s a pivotal point in the film,” says Chance, “a climax in the story that the music should lead up to. My mom had the brilliant idea to just start there. So I got that section written out and scored and then worked my way backward to the beginning and then on to the end.” He felt the inspiration flowing.

The rest, as they say, is history.

He submitted his entry. A while later he learned he had made the top 10. He was overjoyed. Then, a couple of months after that, he received an email thanking everyone for entering. The next line said he was the winner. “When I read that, I jumped up. I was amazed!” he says.

He and his mom got to go to New York City to accept the award. While he was there, he met other composers as well as people involved in other aspects of film and animation.

Chance traveled to New York City with his mother to receive the first-place award in the youth category of the Marvin Hamlisch Film Scoring Contest.

Chance with his film scoring award.

“Why do bad things always happen to me?” grumbled Harold as he tried to pull his school backpack out from under him. It was a cold morning, and the road to school was very icy. He was late, and in his hurry, he had fallen just outside the school door and landed on his backpack.
Harold looked inside the pack. “Oh no!” he moaned. “This is worse than I thought.” When he’d fallen, he’d mashed everything in his lunch, including the little box of juice his mother had put in as a treat. It had squirted over everything. Harold pulled out his book report. It was dripping with apple juice.
“Why do bad things always happen to me?” he muttered over and over as he opened the school door and went down the hall to his class, holding up with two fingers the dripping book report.
“Good morning, Harold, how are you today?” asked Mrs. Bennett as he walked into the classroom.
“I’m terrible,” he growled as he hung up his coat and sat down.
Two girls nearby giggled. “Harold is always terrible,” Katie said.
“Always,” laughed Anna.
Mrs. Bennett went over and sat down next to Harold. “Why is everything so terrible?”
Without a word, Harold showed her the soggy and sticky book report. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. He smoothed it out on the top of his desk and said, “See this? Bad things always happen to me. I can prove it because I have them all written down on this list. Now today I need to add what happened on the way to school. I fell on the ice. I squashed my lunch. Juice got all over my book report, and I think I bruised my elbow.”
“Well,” his teacher said, “that is kind of a tough way to start the morning. What else is on your list?”
Harold read down his bad-things list. “Yesterday I stubbed my toe. My two big brothers took all the chocolate milk at dinner before I could get any. I didn’t get a turn on the swings at recess. On Monday I lost my favorite little car, and my pencil broke during the spelling test. Amanda spilled her milk in the lunchroom, and it went all over me.” Harold took a deep breath and was about to go on.
“I see what you mean,” Mrs. Bennett broke in quickly. “I’m wondering, though, just why you keep all of that on a list.”
“Because if I don’t, I might forget something. You see bad things always happen to me.”
Mrs. Bennett looked for a long time at Harold and then pulled the pencil from behind her ear. “Do you know what I think?” she asked.
Harold shook his head.
“I think your list isn’t long enough.” Harold looked at his teacher in surprise. He thought his list pretty much covered everything. He had kept it in his pocket and added to it all week.
“I’d be really curious to see what your list looks like if you wrote down absolutely everything that happens to you today. You will need more than that little paper. Here, use this notebook. Start with what happened on the way to school, then add everything that happens to you all day.”
“OK,” Harold said, “but you’ll see that bad things always happen to me.” Mrs. Bennett just smiled, and he started writing. He made sure that he covered all the details about the apple juice, the ruined book report, the smashed sandwich, his bruised elbow—everything.
Math was the first class. They worked through the problems on the chalkboard while Mrs. Bennett handed back their tests. Harold’s had a big 100% written on the top! She winked at Harold when she gave it to him and said, “Better write this down in the notebook.” Harold got out his list.
In reading, the students were reading aloud a play called “Robin Hood Rescues Maid Marian,” and when they drew names, Harold drew the part of Robin Hood! Mrs. Bennett winked again, and Harold knew that he was supposed to write that down.
As the children put on their coats to go outside for recess, his teacher noticed that he had some new boots with a warm, fuzzy lining, and new gloves to match. “New boots, Harold?” she asked.
“Yep,” he said. “Mom got them for me yesterday while she was shopping.”
“Hmmmm.” Mrs. Bennett rubbed her chin, “That sounds to me like something that happened to you.”
“I know,” said Harold. “I’d better write it down.” While he was at it, he noticed that his coat was pretty nice and warm too. Then he realized that he hadn’t yet written down anything about the hot breakfast his mother had made for him.
As the day went on, Harold’s list grew longer and longer. Right after lunch, he put down all about how terrible it was to eat a smashed lunch and how Robert had laughed about his funny flat sandwich for an hour. But out on the playground, he scored three baskets for his team, and Nick asked him to play after school, and he had to put that on the list too.
During art, his paint water spilled all over. That went into the notebook in big, capital letters. Jenny helped him wipe everything up, though, and Mrs. Bennett winked again, so he knew that he was supposed to add “help from a friend” to his list. He was on the third page of the notebook already.
At the end of the day, Harold took the notebook back to his teacher. “Well,” he said to her, “I think I’ve recorded just about everything.”
“Good,” she said. “What do you think—shall we count up all the bad things now?”
Harold looked at his feet and fiddled with the old, crumpled list in his pocket. It was really hard for him to say it, but maybe everything wasn’t so terrible. “Mrs. Bennett,” he said as he looked at the notebook, “I think maybe I saved up all the bad things so long that I forgot to notice the good things.”
Mrs. Bennett smiled.
“This kind of a list is a lot more interesting to write than the old one. Do you think I could keep this paper?”
“Harold, you can keep the whole notebook,” Mrs. Bennett said. “I hope you keep adding things until it’s a very long list.”
Harold grinned. “Thanks,” he said. “But, you know, it still bugs me that my apple juice ended up all over my book report instead of in my lunch.”
“I bet it does,” Mrs. Bennett said, “but at least it helped you see not only that good things happened to you, too, but also that it helps to write things down. Hmmm—I think you’ll have good things happen to you next week when we start a lesson on journals. What do you think?”
“Yes!”

You see, when the Latter-day Saint missionaries first came to England in 1837, they began their labors in Preston. At that time the city was in the midst of a grand celebration of Queen Victoria’s reign. As the missionaries alighted from their coach, they saw a banner overhead proclaiming in bold gilt letters “Truth Will Prevail.”
It became a widely-used phrase in the Church and appeared in various publications. One elder, reporting on his mission to Indiana, wrote in a letter published in Nauvoo’s Times and Seasonsin 1841: “Although the Lord has chosen the weak things of this world to preach his gospel, truth will prevail, and will prosper.”1
Trusting the Lord, I turned in my mission papers. On my 21st birthday, along with my birthday post, came my call to serve in the England London South Mission. Due to my years of inactivity, I still felt weak and inadequate. Only later would I understand what that early missionary understood: the Lord may choose the weak things of this world to preach His gospel, but truth will prevail and will prosper.
I went in faith to the temple to be endowed. When I came out of the temple, I met two missionaries who had served in my home ward. As we talked, I described my experience out on the moors. One of the elders smiled broadly and explained that on a particular preparation day, he and his companion had hiked up on the moors and at a certain point felt impressed to place some rocks across the hillside spelling out the familiar phrase “Truth Will Prevail.”
Tears streamed down our faces as we realized what had happened. Those familiar with the area know there are miles and miles of trails amongst the moors. Yet I happened to choose the very spot where the missionaries had placed those rocks. I knew there and then that the Lord had answered my prayer in the hills that day.

Bay Roberts, Newfoundland—
A testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ is not something you should take for granted. You may think you have it one day, and before you know what’s happened it could be gone. At least that’s what happened to me. When I was younger, I knew that I had a Heavenly Father who loved me, and I loved him too. But as I got older, things began to change. I became a little less concerned with maintaining my testimony. I figured it wasn’t going anywhere, so why worry?
I started to focus less on spiritual things, and little by little doubts began to enter my mind. As time progressed, my concerns grew bigger and bigger until I wasn’t sure if the Book of Mormon was true. Soon I found it almost impossible to read it without finding something that I would disagree with or have trouble believing. The strong testimony I had as a little child was almost gone.
I continued to go to church all the time I was doubting, hoping that I could find something to give me the least bit of hope. It’s a good thing I did.
In Sunday School one day my teacher told us that in order to gain a testimony, you had to desire it. I sincerely wanted my testimony back, so I decided to try again, but with a different attitude. I started reading my scriptures again, but instead of looking for what was wrong with them, I looked for what was right. I prayed and asked Heavenly Father to help me believe in them and to know whether or not the gospel is true. Then, after the hardest and most lonely time in my life, something clicked and I knew it was true. I had my testimony back!
I now know that I must continue to work to keep my testimony growing and strong. I know that the Book of Mormon is true and that I have a Heavenly Father who loves me. It’s good to be back.

My Scout troop once went on a 50-mile hike in the Grand Canyon. At the time I was the deacons quorum president and Scout patrol leader. We planned and prepared for a year, making sure that we wouldn’t have any problems. On the second day, we started hiking and got to our stopping point early. At that time, I got a very strong feeling that we needed to keep moving instead of making camp, and the group followed my lead. We were supposed to do only 14 miles that day, but we ended up doing 23 and finding a good campground. When we finally stopped, everyone was upset, but I knew it was right.
The next day we did 13 instead of 11 miles, again going farther than planned and finding a good spot to camp. Hopeful to finish early because we were ahead, we got up the next day. It was lightly drizzling, but we kept going. It started raining harder and harder, but we just kept going. Then my leader said there were going to be flash floods and we needed to find shelter ASAP. But suddenly lightning flashed—and it was right overhead.
We started to run, praying that we would be able to find shelter. My friend and I saw a small hut in the distance and headed toward it. As we were running, a lightning bolt struck right by us, so we ran faster. Reaching it safely, I turned around to help those in the back, and we all made it to the shelter. Eventually the storm passed, and we finished the hike. I am so grateful for the Spirit prompting me to continue on the hike longer than we’d planned, because by being closer to the end we were able to find shelter.

When Blanca’s husband and mother became sick and unable to care for themselves, she had to leave her job to care for them full-time. By turning to the Lord, Blanca has found strength beyond her own.
Cody Bell, photographer
Our family’s most difficult trials came when my husband became very sick. He spent four months in intensive care. Those were months of anguish! My husband was unable to care for himself when we left the hospital. At the same time, my mother suffered from Alzheimer’s disease and had to completely stay in the bed.
I had a stable job as a licensed nurse, and I took care of my husband and my mother at the same time. I became discouraged with both of them in bed. There were many nights without sleep because I would have to do everything for them. They were like two babies. With caring for them and working at the same time, I felt like I was working double. I could not take care of them as I should, so I had to leave my work.
I consider these to be the most difficult days of my life. It was difficult for me to go from being self-sufficient to empty-handed. I began to worry about finances. I didn’t know what to do to cover all our expenses. I started thinking of what I could do. I asked the Lord to help me work once again and still care for my family.
I talked with my son and he suggested that I make and sell empanadas. I was scared since I did not know how to do this, but I had something in my favor. I had attended several self-reliance courses from the Church. One of the courses I liked was the “Starting and Growing My Business” course. As I attended, I sensed what was ahead of me. The Lord sent this course to me after I asked Him for help. I asked Him for a job, and He provided me with an opportunity.
I worked until late at night to get the business started. It took a year to get it fully running. I started selling empanadas to friends and neighbors, and I began to think that I could give myself entirely to this job, so I could take care for family. We were happy when the time came to open a nice family business. Our happiness, however, was short-lived.
I started to feel sick myself. I went to the doctor and was diagnosed with breast cancer. I underwent surgery, chemotherapy, and everything else to fight the disease. When everything came down, I had to abandon my long-awaited family business. Between my treatment and care of my helpless mother and my husband, I did not have the physical capacity to run the business.
Over time, my husband’s health slowly improved, and my mother has since passed away. Now, I dedicate myself to my treatment.
I do not get tired of praying and asking the Lord for strength to continue forward. I pray to Him at all times. What my family has gone through has helped me realize that the Lord has walked with me through it all. He gives me the opportunity to rise up again. It is incredible the great amount of strength the Lord gives me.
I never ask myself, “Why me?” I have always thought there was a reason for it. I trust the Lord and accept what He sends me. He has supported me as I have passed through very difficult times, and I have been strengthened.
Blanca attended several of the Church’s self-reliance courses to help provide a living for her and her family. She is grateful for what she learned. “The Lord sent this course to me after I asked Him for help,” she said.
Twenty-three years after she and her husband, Anibal, joined the Church, Blanca says, “Since my baptism, I have felt that I am in the right place, in the true Church.”
Blanca is grateful to see her husband’s health improve. She is also grateful for the opportunity she had to care for her mother, who has since passed away.
Blanca says she could not have made it through her challenges on her own. “The Lord has walked with me through it all,” she says. “It is incredible the great amount of strength the Lord gives me.”

Thank you for publishing the article “Ten Things to Know Before You Go” (July 2002). I am currently dating someone who will be serving a mission in less than six months. He is very prepared spiritually but not in other areas. For example, his mom still does his laundry and cooks all his meals. He relies on her for many things. He knows he will have to learn how to do the laundry etc. for his mission, but he procrastinates learning to do so. When I read him the article, it hit him that it is essential to learn soon. Thank you for helping me with this problem and for helping others realize what to prepare for.
Name WithheldProvo, Utah (via e-mail)

When Hugo bears his testimony, he always thanks his mother and the teachers who have taught him to come to church, where he can learn. And he tells of a special prayer in his heart that his father will someday listen to the missionaries and come to church, where he can feel the love of all the ward members. Hugo feels very sad that his father and his brother are not interested in learning about the Church right now. He says: “My brother thinks that coming to church is a waste of time. But it’s not a waste of time—it is gaining eternal life!”
Hugo tries to set a good example at home, as well as at school. “I have a good relationship with my Dad. I know he has very sensitive feelings, and I try not to do anything to make him feel left out,” he says. “We sometimes go on walks together and just talk—these are our special times together.”

In a touching letter I received just this week, a mother wrote of her Marine son who is serving for the second time in a Middle Eastern war. She says that at the time of his first deployment, “he came home on leave and asked me to go for a walk. … He had his arm around me and he told me about going to war. He … said, ‘Mom, I have to go so you and the family can be free, free to worship as you please. … And if it costs me my life, … then giving my life is worth it.’” He is now there again and has written to his family recently, saying, “I am proud to be here serving my nation and our way of life. … I feel a lot safer knowing our Heavenly Father is with me.”

It was three o’clock in the morning. My dad had just nailed the final trim on the three-story dollhouse we had built for my little sisters (the trim was not quite dry and the white paint still bears several thumb prints). Mom and I placed inside all of the furniture we had made and gathered, and then sat back and looked with real pleasure on our creation. It had been a hectic three weeks of building, creating, and upholstering, but this year Christmas somehow seemed more real. The small house was beautiful. The furnishings were charming, and the tiny crocheted rugs just fit the decorating scheme we had chosen.
Since that Christmas several years ago we have made a few improvements in our dollhouse—pasted 1-by-1 1/2-inch cardboard pieces on the roof for shingles, added tiny accessories on the tables and shelves, found a potbellied stove for the upstairs bedroom—and with each passing year, and the arrival of each new niece and nephew, the dollhouse has grown in popularity; it has even become the pattern for several others as far away as Michigan.

In my enthusiasm and excitement on my first day of service as a mission president, I asked the zone leaders I had invited to my home, “How much of a typical day in missionary service are you normally under the vibrating, powerful influence of the Spirit?”
They obviously did not know what to say. They acted like I had caught them by surprise. Having been converted to the Church as an adult and not having served as a young, full-time missionary, I assumed it was natural that a missionary would be always under the influence of the Spirit. How surprised I was when no missionary was saying anything.
Finally, one of them spoke up. “Last Thursday night, while we were teaching the Lehman family, we were feeling the Spirit.”
I remember my immediate response was, “That was it? How about the rest of the day?”
As soon as I asked my zone leaders what they experience when they are under the influence of the Spirit, they were all participating, describing the different effects the Spirit has in our lives. They agreed that being under the influence of the Spirit fills us with satisfying joy. It enhances our ability to make necessary adjustments, even in the most difficult circumstances. This Spirit helps us develop our intellectual capabilities and even delivers the motivation to use them. The zone leaders agreed that under the influence of the Spirit, some things that can seem uncomfortable, like hard work, getting up on time, going the extra mile, overcoming homesickness, overcoming flaws of character, and other personal sacrifices, become easier.
It became clear that, under the influence of the Spirit, we are empowered to act in wisdom. We see the complexity of a problem in its simple parts and see possible solutions unfolding in front of our eyes, to our own surprise. In other words, our creativity is developed and multiplied. That which is a burden without it becomes a privilege when we are under the influence of the Holy Spirit.
Many times in our lives it happens that the gifts of the Spirit rest dormant in us. We are not even aware of the full extent of their existence, as it was with my missionaries. Did they not have the Spirit? Of course they did. They had even passed the test of forsaking their own self-centered plans to become sacred witnesses for the Lord Jesus Christ. Still they had not fully understood the workings of the Spirit.
Why did the one elder feel the Spirit as he was teaching the Lehman family? Because at that time he and his companion were completely focused in their search for divine guidance. Too often we are not aware of the powerful gift which rests dormant in us. We cannot be grateful for that of which we are not aware, nor can we activate its power.

May I share with you the account of Tihi and Tararaina Mou Tham and their 10 children. The entire family except for one daughter joined the Church in the early 1960s, when missionaries came to their island, located about 100 miles (160 km) south of Tahiti. Soon they began to desire the blessings of an eternal family sealing in the temple.

At that time the nearest temple to the Mou Tham family was the Hamilton New Zealand Temple, more than 2,500 miles (4,000 km) to the southwest, accessible only by expensive airplane travel. The large Mou Tham family, which eked out a meager living on a small plantation, had no money for airplane fare, nor was there any opportunity for employment on their Pacific island. So Brother Mou Tham and his son Gérard made the difficult decision to travel 3,000 miles (4,800 km) to work in New Caledonia, where another son was already employed.

The three Mou Tham men labored for four years. Brother Mou Tham alone returned home only once during that time, for the marriage of a daughter.

After four years, Brother Mou Tham and his sons had saved enough money to take the family to the New Zealand Temple. All who were members went except for one daughter who was expecting a baby. They were sealed for time and eternity, an indescribable and joyful experience.

Brother Mou Tham returned from the temple directly to New Caledonia, where he worked for two more years to pay for the passage of the one daughter who had not been at the temple with them—a married daughter and her child and husband.

In their later years Brother and Sister Mou Tham desired to serve in the temple. By that time the Papeete Tahiti Temple had been constructed and dedicated, and they served four missions there.3

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

But getting the right perspective is not as simple as ordering pizza. If we persist in behaviors and choices that limit our view to portions of our own possibilities, then we will never see our divine potential as God intended for each of us. Instead, we must be willing to travel the journey that will take us to greater heights and afford a ,wider perspective that is deeper and more beautiful. I understood this much more clearly on a special trip I made with my brother to the Philippines. The trip was a surprise to pick up our youngest sister who served in the Baccolod Philippines mission. The mission president was a gracious host who not only introduced us to the delicacies of Filipino dining, but allowed us opportunities to see the many wonders of the country. One such sight was the Mambukal Resort in Negros Occidental.

Mambukal Resort is considered first class with its natural feeding place for thousands of fruit bats, natural hot springs and abundant waterfalls. President walked us towards the 5-layered waterfall and instructed us to go and see from the top. Obediently we started up the trail with full intent to return quickly so that the President could return to his work. However, by the third waterfall, my breathing began to get heavy, my legs were sore, and the areas of extra pounds started to feel itchy.

"You go ahead," I said to my brother. "When you get to the next one, call down and tell me if it's very far."

My brother refused and insisted on waiting for me to make the hike together. Not wanting to disappoint him, I took a deep breath and started up again to the next water fall. With each step up the windy trail I could feel my legs tremble and my muscles starting to pull tightly. I took deep breaths to try to calm the pain, and focused on the weeds that crossed over the trail path.

Upon reaching the fourth water fall, a sudden feeling of relief and joy overcame me. For just a moment, I forgot my itchy joints, my shaking legs, and the tightness in my muscles. The water was amazing, and the view was grand. Was there only one more? "No, you go ahead," I said again to my brother.

"Please just go so we can get back to President. Don't wait for me. I am too slow and out of shape." My brother would not go.

"Please," I pleaded. "Just go. And tell me what it's like when you get back."

But my brother just stood there and shook his head. Thinking of the President waiting at the bottom of the falls, I started again reluctantly up the last trail to the fifth water fall. Each sight truly had been beautiful and refreshing ”but with the physical discomforts that increased with each step, I was not as desirous about seeing the last water fall as I had been in the beginning.

The last trail was longer than the first, and again every step was such a struggle I could not afford to enjoy the natural beauty surrounding us. I don't know how long we were gone, but when we finally reached the top, the greatest feeling overcame us both. Not only were we enjoying the beauty of God's nature in this vineyard, but we had shared the experience together. For a moment, we stood in silence admiring the beauty that surrounded us.

I saw many parallels with the types of "hikers" who attempt the trek to higher grounds to see a grander view of the land, but often come up short for one reason or another. Some of us start the trek for a worthwhile goal, and then decide once we have reached our "comfort zone" that we don't need or want to extend ourselves anymore. We agree that the top of the waterfall must be beautiful, but because we are tired, out of shape, unprepared or weak, we convince ourselves that we do not want to go the extra mile and ask others to go on our behalf so we don't feel too guilty about coming short on the challenge.

If you can relate to my style of hiking at Mambukal Resort, I invite you to consider changing your perspective so you can be an optimistic hiker that makes more of his/her travels than I did. Had my brother not insisted on me continuing with him up the trail, there are several views and sights I would have missed due to my own personal limitations and challenges. I want to note that having the right attitude is part of the journey ”having the right support is the other. And so it is useful to note that in order to help another person achieve and move forward, it is important to stand on higher ground and to be firm footed in the places we stand.

Though his memory shines especially bright during this Bicentennial year, Abraham Lincoln had lost some of his luster for citizens in Spokane, Washington. It seems the city’s statue of the nation’s 16th president needed a facelift after prolonged exposure to the rainy northwest climate. It was the Explorers of the Spokane First Ward who provided the manpower to clean up the statue.
Accepting President Kimball’s challenge that each American devote 24 hours of service to his community, the Explorers scrubbed the statue with a vinegar solution and polished it up with naval jelly.
It was a great birthday present to the country, and both the Explorers and Abe have reason to stand tall.

“Before I joined the Church,” says Bernabé Pardo, another recent convert, “the only friends I had were people who would go out to drink. But now that I am a member, I have many friends—real friends. They invite me to read the Book of Mormon with them. They invite me over for family home evening. They serve each other. I have gone on service projects with them. My life is completely different now. I have received many, many blessings. I pay my tithing, and the Lord has blessed me.”

When I was about 14, my mother and father were divorced. There were seven children left at home. Little or no child support was ever paid. I watched my “champion” mom put on heavy shoes with metal toe protectors, dress like a workman, and go out to Garfield smelter to work so she could earn enough money to support our family. The poor woman would get ready for work at about 9:30 P.M., catch a bus at 10:00, work all night until 7:00 A.M., return home, and be there about the time we got up to go to school. During the day she would wash and iron, bake bread, fix meals, clean the house, and always be up when the children were home. I don’t know how she did it.
Now some of you will never have to experience conditions like that in your home. But let me say here, one of the highest places I have ever walked is in the shadow of a great mom who forgot her embarrassment and womanly image to simply support a large family until they came of age. I saw an older brother who grew up fast and was able to go to work at age 14 in the Bauer Mines near Tooele because he was large of stature. He became the masculine image to all of us who were his younger brothers and sisters.
It is no wonder that I love work. My wonderful mother taught me how to work, and when I did get a job, I knew the family was depending on me to hold it.

They were twins, but they really didn’t look alike. Josy was taller than Kelsey. She had bright blue eyes, bouncy hair, and dimples that danced on her cheeks whenever she giggled. Kelsey, on the other hand, had a long golden ponytail that went swish, swish when she walked. Kelsey loved to tease. Her deep brown eyes would sparkle when she told a joke.
The people in Littleton loved them. Mr. Brooks, at the supermarket, said it was because of their smiles. “No,” Mrs. Applebee said. “It’s because they always say hello to everyone.” Little Max liked them because they played games. Jim, the delivery boy, said the girls were just plain fun to be around. Whatever it was, everyone agreed that the twins made people happy. Everyone, that is, except Sister Crane and Sister Goodwin.
“What are we going to do about them?” Sister Crane said. “I try to teach a new song in Primary, and they sing too loudly. Kelsey sings off-key, which makes Josy laugh. Soon the whole Primary is laughing. They need to learn to sing quietly.”
“What are we going to do about them?” Sister Goodwin asked. “I try to tell a story about Jesus. At first the girls listen, but then Kelsey finds something funny in the story, and Josy starts to laugh. Soon the whole class is laughing. They need to learn to listen.”
“The girls were twirling down the hallway last Sunday.”
“They don’t always sit on the bench.”
“Sometimes they take their shoes off in class.”
“They giggle in the middle of the quiet song.”
“We need to tell their parents.”
“No, we need to send them to their parents.”
“Break them up. Don’t let them be in the same class.”
Sister Turner, the Primary President, listened quietly. The twins weren’t bad children. They were just a little disruptively happy. “I think that maybe I should have a talk with Josy and Kelsey. Maybe I can make a difference.”
The next day, Sister Turner backed her bright yellow van out of her driveway. She chugged down the street, over the bridge, and across the park to the twins’ house. Josy came running out of the house. “Hi, Sister Turner,” she called. “Look at our new puppy!”
Just then Kelsey came out of the house, chasing a black and white puppy. Kelsey giggled as the puppy darted back and forth just out of her reach. Josy joined in chasing the puppy around in circles. Round and round they went, until the girls gave up and dropped to their knees on the grass. The little puppy pranced up to them and sat on Josy’s lap.
Sister Turner started to laugh. Suddenly she had an idea. “Girls, would you like to go to the zoo with me to see the new butterfly house?” Josy giggled. Kelsey grinned. They loved the zoo. After getting permission from their mother, they were on their way in Sister Turner’s bright yellow van.
A butterfly fluttered by Josy’s face as she opened the door of the butterfly house. “Wow,” she giggled as clouds of colorful butterflies flew over her head. She grabbed at a pink one, but it flitted away. “Let’s catch one,” Kelsey yelled, running to the other side of the room. Yellow, blue, pink, and white butterflies flew gracefully over her head.
Some of the butterflies landed on tree branches. Josy cupped her hands and crept up behind a black and orange butterfly. It flew quickly away. Kelsey turned round and round surveying the room. The beautiful butterflies were everywhere. They hovered over the pond, covered the trees like blossoms, and even dotted the path. Laughing and giggling, the twins chased the butterflies everywhere. But the beautiful insects always stayed just out of reach.
Finally Josy and Kelsey became tired and sat on a bench by Sister Turner to rest. “I guess you just can’t catch a butterfly,” Kelsey said.
“You can, if you know how,” Sister Turner replied. Josy and Kelsey looked at Sister Turner with interest. Sister Turner smiled. “Girls, do you know what reverent means?”
“Sure,” Josy answered. “It means fold your arms and don’t talk.”
Sister Turner chuckled. “Well, being quiet is part of it, but that’s not really reverence. Reverence is a feeling. It’s hard to explain, but maybe I can show you. Do you want me to?”
Kelsey grinned. She didn’t know what this had to do with butterflies, but Sister Turner knew just about everything.
“You need to sit very still and be quiet,” Sister Turner continued. “That’s the part about reverence that you already know. But if you’ll do that part, I think you’ll be surprised by the rest.” She took each girls’ hands and dipped them in the pool of water. For several minutes they just sat there with their hands cupped in front of them.
Kelsey listened. It was very quiet in the butterfly house. All you could hear was the drip, drip of the water tap.
Josy watched as the butterflies flew in the trees and hovered over the pool. They were very close. Slowly, slowly a butterfly fluttered toward her, dipped down, and landed on the palm of her hand. Josy started to giggle, but Sister Turner shook her head. Josy sat very still, watching the butterfly sip at the water on her fingers.
Sister Turner took Kelsey’s hand and placed it next to a butterfly on a nearby flower. The butterfly gracefully walked onto her hand to drink the water. A warm glow filled the girls. They had tried hard to catch a butterfly, and now, just by being quiet, each was holding one in her hand.
As the girls held their butterflies, Sister Turner whispered softly, “Reverence is a lot like these butterflies. You don’t catch a butterfly. You let it come to you. You don’t catch a reverent feeling, either. It just comes to you when you are quiet. It’s the warm feeling you are feeling right now. You can also feel it when you think about Jesus Christ or anything else wonderful. When you are in Primary next Sunday, think about how quiet you had to be to have these butterflies in your hands. Then think about Jesus, and see if you get that same reverent feeling.”
The next Sunday the twins hurried to Primary. Sister Turner greeted them at the door. She smiled and pinned a small paper butterfly on each of their dresses. “Now remember, girls, don’t scare your butterflies.”
Josy smiled. Kelsey grinned. Reverently they walked to their chairs and sat down. It was quiet in the Primary room. Kelsey listened to the soft music Sister Crane was playing. Josy closed her eyes and thought about Jesus. Slowly the girls felt a warm feeling come to them.
“Look at the twins,” Sister Goodwin whispered. “They are being reverent. What did you do?”
Sister Turner smiled. “It was easy,” she whispered back. “I just showed them how to catch a butterfly.”