Gospel Story Finder

Mary had been a member of the Church for two years and was just starting to fill in her family tree. Her ward family history consultant helped her find ancestors the first few times she went to the temple. The next time she planned to attend the temple, she wanted to do some initiatory work and decided to see if she could obtain an ordinance card on her own.

Following the steps for Ordinances Ready outlined below, Mary logged on to the Family Tree mobile app to quickly find an ancestor who needed initiatory work, but she didn’t have a printer available. She saved the card to her cell phone photos, and a temple worker printed the card for her when she arrived.

John’s family had been a part of the Church for many generations. He wanted to go to the temple on behalf of a family member but assumed there wouldn’t be any persons with work left to do since his family had been active in temple work for such a long time. His ward family history consultant invited him to give Ordinances Ready a try.
John followed the steps, selecting the ordinance he wanted to perform. He was surprised and excited to see Ordinances Ready find a person—a fifth cousin, twice removed. He printed the card on his home computer and took it with him to the temple. With a special joy in his heart, John was able to perform the ordinance for a family member.

When we face serious challenges, sometimes we find it difficult to trust in the Lord. But trusting in Him brings us the hope we need in order to face our challenges.

That’s what happened with members of the Gatrell family, who live in Sister Jean A. Stevens’s ward. Sister Stevens, first counselor in the Primary general presidency, said the family held tight to the gospel and to their temple covenants after Brother Gatrell was diagnosed with cancer. Doing so gave them hope in God’s promises that they would be together again after this life.

Through the difficult days before her husband passed away, Sister Gatrell said, “I knew the Lord was watching over us. If you trust in the Lord, truly you can overcome any of life’s challenges.”5

The gift of the Atonement gives us the hope of eternal life—something we need when we suffer trials or the death of a loved one.

“Our loving Heavenly Father gave us the gift of His Beloved Son, Jesus Christ, as our Savior,” said President Henry B. Eyring, First Counselor in the First Presidency. “That great gift and blessing of the Atonement of Jesus Christ brings a universal inheritance: the promise of the Resurrection and the possibility of eternal life to all who are born.”6

“Wow, did you see that catch?” my seven-year-old son, Weslon, exclaimed in delight. He wished aloud, “I’d sure like to meet some of those guys.”
As family members of a high school varsity cheerleader, we frequently found ourselves at football games. My husband, Rick, and I and Weslon became involved in the games as well as in watching our daughter, Mitzi. Football heroes had blossomed in Weslon’s impressionable mind by halftime of our third home game at Round Valley High School in Eagar, Arizona.
Battling my own shyness, I determined to help this stargazing, bashful boy. “We’ll go talk to some of the guys,” I told him after the game. I then towed my son onto the field into the crowd. We approached one of his heroes and tried to offer congratulations. The young man breezed by, aware only of himself and two chattering girls who had cut in front of us to reach him. The next player mumbled “thanks” without breaking stride as I told him “good game” and tried to tell him he had an admirer.
Reluctantly, we approached the last player, wary of another snub. As I told him what a good job he had done, Ty Workman stopped in his tracks, football helmet in hands, flashed a smile of nice white teeth and said, “Thank you very much!”
Encouraged, I plunged into telling him of Weslon’s admiration. Ty’s black hair and handsome face dripped with sweaty exertion as he listened. He extended his hand to shake Weslon’s and said, “Thanks buddy. What’s your name?”
My son quietly said, “Weslon,” and ducked his sandy blond head to examine Ty’s cleats.
I told Ty, “Weslon likes the way you catch passes.” Ty beamed at him and said, “Thanks a lot. I’m really glad to meet you, Weslon, buddy.”
Mitzi went to school the next day and told Ty, “My little brother thinks you’re pretty neat.” From that point she relayed messages between Ty and Weslon. Soon the two boys became real buddies. After each football game they could be found together with Ty’s arm draped around Weslon, chatting about the plays. We attended every football game, even those out of town.
As we became acquainted with Ty, we found he was popular with everyone—young and old. He didn’t drink, smoke, do drugs, and he had good moral values. He encouraged Weslon to avoid harmful things and often repeated his favorite phrase, “Stay close to the Lord.”
Several weeks into this friendship, Mitzi came home from school with some disturbing news. Her face a mask of disbelief, she said, “This is so sad. Ty has MS—you know, multiple sclerosis. They said he might not live longer than a year.” Weslon’s face fell as we told him what MS was. A heavy silence came over us as we realized the gravity of Ty’s illness.
In the next few months Ty had several attacks requiring hospitalizations. He lost lots of weight but forced himself to shine on the football field. Ty, along with Mitzi, was also a member of Show Choir, a singing and dancing group. He made it to many taxing practices and performances between hospital stays.
Late one evening we received a call from Ty’s dad. “Ty’s pretty sick. I think it would help him if Weslon could visit him at the hospital tomorrow. He’s blind and paralyzed from the waist down.”
After the phone call, Weslon disappeared into his room. He came out a little later, green eyes glittering with tears, and said, “I said a prayer for Ty.”
The next morning we visited the hospital bearing gifts bought with Weslon’s savings. Ty greeted Weslon with a cheery, “Hi buddy! How are ya doing? I can’t see anything but shadows where you are,” he told us.
“We brought you a few things, Ty,” I told him, trying not to let him hear the fear in my voice.
“Thanks a lot,” Ty said, his dark eyes looking our way but not focusing. During our visit my words were cheerful, but my heart felt bruised as I watched the two buddies talking.
We were amazed when the hospital released Ty a few days later. He went home with his eyesight and with the feeling in his legs gradually returning. Soon he was back in school.
Our family spent a lot of time with Ty through the next few months. Laughter and camaraderie warmed our home during Ty’s visits. He would talk with Weslon about lots of things, always reinforcing his slogan, “Stay close to the Lord.”
Soon after Christmas, Ty was flown to Phoenix for hospitalization. While he was there, he went into a coma. Just when we decided we should take Weslon on the long trip to Phoenix because the doctors didn’t expect Ty to live, we got a call. Ty had come out of the coma!
Following his release from the hospital, Ty’s parents took him to a specialist in California. After many tests the doctors ruled out multiple sclerosis. Numerous additional tests found Ty to be suffering from a virus that attacked the nervous system during times of stress or exhaustion. We were jubilantly relieved! He was still a sick young man, but now he knew how to avoid the debilitating attacks, and best of all a fatal forecast had been removed.
In spite of his many absences from school, Ty was well enough to graduate with his classmates in May. During the summer Ty held down a job and practiced for the Arizona state high school all-star game. He was one of four chosen from our region. Weslon was invited to practices, and we made the long trip to Prescott, Arizona, for the all-star game. Ty was down to 122 pounds after his illness. He was the smallest in weight on both teams, but his famous catches helped bring his team to victory.
After the game, he came jogging off the field, sweat streaming but beaming that wide, white smile. Ty got his buddy by the shoulders and they chatted about the game as I took pictures. He told Weslon, “Stay right here. I have to go get something.” A little later he came dashing back. In his hand was his all-star cap. He told Weslon, “I want you to have this. Thank you for coming to my game, buddy.”
Ty has been an inspiration to many. He was awarded the first “Ty Workman Award” at Round Valley High School. This award is presented each year now to a student conquering adversity.
December 1987 came and with it Ty’s call to the North Carolina Charlotte Mission. I took six tissues to Ty’s farewell service. In his talk he mentioned, “I have a little friend here that is really special to me. He is Weslon Whiting.” I should have taken 16 tissues!
Ty has filled an honorable mission. He continued to remember his little buddy, writing letters in the same spirit as he used to talk to Weslon. Instead of thinking of the joy he has brought to a small boy he turns it around. One sentence will ring in my mind for a long time. “Weslon, you’ve been a big help in my life, more than you’ll ever know.” With each letter he sent to his little buddy he enclosed a dime or a quarter for Weslon’s missionary fund.
Three years have passed since Ty was not expected to live. I thank this exceptional young man for giving me faith in a younger generation. And I thank him for providing my young son with a shining example of a true hero.

“During the St. Petersburg concert,” said James B. Kennard, “I kept making eye contact with a man in the audience. I found him afterwards and invited him to the fireside the next evening. He and his two sons came to the fireside and then invited us to their apartment, where we held a gospel discussion. They happily agreed to read the Book of Mormon and visit with the missionaries. At the evening’s end, our wives embraced and hugged each other.”

Then there is so much fun in Church service. I remember one hot summer evening when we were engaged in a ward building-fund project. We had contracted to supply the food service at a state fair. I was assigned to the dishwashing detail along with Bay Hutchings, another member of our ward. We were working across the counter from the customers who were enjoying our delicious food. There was a call from the cashier’s cage: “Dr. Hutchings, the hospital is calling you.” Suddenly all the forks were suspended in midair. The customers turned one to another and exclaimed, “A doctor washing dishes?” We had to immediately explain that this was a Church building-fund project. No one was being paid for his services. The waiters, cooks, dishwashers, and busboys were doctors, lawyers, merchants, chiefs—all having one great time working together for our project. We must never forget that the wealth, the strength, the security of the Church is our ability to labor together. Let us be a righteous example of this fundamental principle in our homes, our places of employment, our neighborhoods, our communities, our states, and our nations.

During my junior year in high school the principal asked me to run for vice president of the student body. It was a life-changing experience for me, because I had never considered such a thing before. I didn’t say yes at first, but I thought about it, and the Holy Ghost confirmed that it was the right thing for me to do. It scared me, but I ran and won the election. From that time to now, a whole different world has opened up as I gained confidence. Listening to the Holy Ghost helped me know I could become more than I had ever dreamed of becoming.

After hearing many wonderful lessons about ways to keep the Sabbath day holy, we concluded as a family that one of our family rules would be to keep the Sabbath day.
Keeping the Lord’s commandments comes with an invitation to “prove me now herewith” (Malachi 3:10). Of course, we were put to the test, and we wanted to prove to the Lord that we believe. One Sunday after church, our daughter who was attending the graduating class at elementary school, was called by her teacher who asked her to come to the school.
The teacher was at the classroom with other students preparing for an island-wide competition on Monday morning. My daughter explained to the teacher that one of our family rules is not to do schoolwork on Sundays. The teacher wanted to speak to my wife, who made the same statement. Then the teacher wanted to speak with me. Of course, I shared the same comment. She was very disappointed. She told us that she believes in keeping the Sabbath day holy, but this was a very important competition where preparation was key to winning. I told her I understood how important the competition was but keeping the Sabbath day holy is more important to us. She hung up on me leaving me speechless.
On Monday morning, our daughter was afraid to go to school where she would have to face the teacher. My wife drove her to school but found the teacher had left our daughter behind. My wife took her to the competition venue where my daughter joined her classmates. Our daughter did not win the competition that day, but she was the only student from her school who won a prize.

Finally the war ended, and the family moved to Namur. “That’s where we had our first home. We were so glad! It was the first time in my life that I could look out the window and see a garden.”
Elder Didier was then sixteen, and he often played in the garden with his twelve-year-old sister and his two younger brothers. “That was our favorite spot. We lived on a hill, and we watched people go up and down the street.
“One day we saw two young Americans pushing their bicycles up the hill. In the afternoon they passed again, heading downhill. This went on day after day. We were so curious that when they finally came to our house, all four of us rushed to the door, yelling, ‘Let them in. We want to know what they’re doing!’”
That was the first of many visits from the missionaries.
“My mother quickly gained a testimony of the gospel, and within six months she became a member of the Church. She knew that it was right, and she was convinced that this was our salvation. But Father would not let us children be baptized until we were older, so we had to wait, even though he let us go to all the meetings.
“I would say that bit by bit the gospel principles penetrated our minds and our hearts. I never smoked. I never drank. I loved the truth, and I loved the missionaries. They were the greatest friends we had.” Eventually all four Didier children became members of the Church.

Our family was sealed in April in the Hong Kong Temple. We had been waiting to come to the temple for two years. There are five people in my family: my mother, my father, my elder sister (12), me (11) and my younger brother (2). We prayed to God and it was a very beautiful experience. At first, we were afraid how we could go but everything was all right. We arrived safely. When we reached the patron housing, we could not believe that we were there in front of the temple because we had been trying to make it for many years.
My little brother and I, who were too young to enter the temple, stayed in the patron house except for the one day we went for the sealing. My sister went to do baptisms every day for our family and for others. She really felt the Spirit. I sat in the waiting room and read scriptures. I really felt the Spirit too. I like that place. In the patron housing I could feel the Spirit. When we woke up in the patron housing, we could clearly see the temple outside the window. It was very wonderful.
When I went to the temple to be sealed with my family, it was very nice to see them all dressed in white. It was like they were not my mother, father, sister and brother but like angels who had come to visit me. My parents were in the sealing room and a sister came and told us it was time to be sealed so we followed her to the sealing room. They opened the doors and we saw the altar and they asked us to kneel there and put one hand on the altar and we all held our other hands, we made a chain and they sealed us by a prayer.
When we were sealed, we were all crying. They stood us in front of a mirror and showed us the generations of our family in the future then they turned us around and showed us our ancestors who had gone before. In the sealing room it felt like Heavenly Father was present.
Being sealed in the temple means that we will live together in eternal life. When I looked in the mirror behind us, I felt like our ancestors were there with us. When we left the temple, we really felt like Jesus Christ was with us, like our partner.

The first of these callings came when I was a deacon. I attended with my family the branch of the Church in Frankfurt, Germany. We were blessed with many wonderful people in our little branch. One was our branch president, Brother Landschulz. I admired him a great deal, even though he always seemed to be rather serious, very official, and most of the time dressed in a dark suit. I remember as a young man joking with my friends how old-fashioned our branch president appeared.
It makes me laugh to think about this now because it is very possible that the youth of the Church today view me in a very similar way.
One Sunday, President Landschulz asked if he could speak with me. My first thought was, “What did I do wrong?” My mind raced over the many things I might have done that could have inspired this branch-president-to-deacon talk.
President Landschulz invited me into a small classroom—our chapel did not have an office for the branch president—and there he extended a call to me to serve as deacons quorum president.
“This is an important position,” he said, and then he took his time and described why. He explained what he and the Lord expected of me and how I could receive help.
I don’t remember much of what he said, but I do remember well how I felt. A sacred, divine Spirit filled my heart as he spoke. I could feel that this was the Savior’s Church. And I felt that the calling he had extended was inspired by the Holy Ghost. I remember walking out of that tiny classroom feeling quite a bit taller than before.
It has been nearly 60 years since that day, and I still treasure these feelings of trust and love.
As I was thinking back on this experience, I tried to remember just how many deacons there were in our branch at the time. To my best recollection, I believe there were two. However, this may be a huge exaggeration.
But it really didn’t matter whether there was one deacon or a dozen. I felt honored, and I wanted to serve to the best of my ability and not disappoint either my branch president or the Lord.
I realize now that the branch president could have merely gone through the motions when he called me to this position. He could have simply told me in the hallway or during our priesthood meeting that I was the new deacons quorum president.
Instead, he spent time with me and helped me understand not only the what of my assignment and new responsibility but, much more important, the why.
That is something I will never forget.
The point of this story is not merely to describe how to extend callings in the Church (although this was a wonderful lesson on the proper way to do it). It is an example to me of the motivating power of priesthood leadership that awakens the spirit and inspires action.

I was tired. Desiree, Jenny, and I were worn out from a day of teaching a disease prevention program in Uganda, Africa. Our hosts, the Mayeku family, had a lively bunch of five lovable children. We came home to their warm welcome after walking home from the taxi stop.
We started right away with the nightly chores of peeling potatoes, rolling out dough, squeezing passion fruit for juice, and setting the table. Everything there seemed to take a long time, and dinner was no exception. The charcoal stove, dull knives, and manual labor all contributed to the four hours it took before dinner was on the table.
After dinner we washed the dishes, and by then it was 11 o’clock. I was exhausted and ready for bed. But it was Monday, and Rebecca, the oldest child, had prepared a lesson for family home evening. I watched this beautiful family gather around their humble kitchen table to listen. I knew that the Mayeku family was even more drained than I was. They worked so hard to be an obedient, educated, and loving family, and it reminded me of how blessed I was to stay with a family who did so much with the little they had. The Spirit changed my unthankful heart as we all sang “The Spirit of God” (Hymns, no. 2). I was overwhelmed by the family’s desire to serve and love the Lord. Rebecca’s lesson was on God’s creations and how He blesses us with what we need, but the greatest lesson I learned that night was the lesson of gratitude.

Whenever we seek for true testimony we come, finally, to ordinary men and women and children.
Let me quote from the diary of Joseph Millett, a little-known missionary of an earlier time. Called on a mission to Canada, he went alone and on foot. In Canada, during the wintertime, he said:
“I felt my weakness. A poor, ill-clothed, ignorant boy in my teens, thousands of miles from home among strangers.
“The promise in my blessing and the encouraging words of President Young to me, with the faith I had in the gospel, kept me up.
“Many times I would turn into the woods … in some desolate place with a heart full, wet eyes, to call on my master for strength or aid.
“I believed the Gospel of Christ. I had never preached it. I knew not where to find it in the scriptures.”
That didn’t matter so much, for, “I had to give my Bible to the boatman at Digby for passage across the sound.”
Years later, Joseph Millett, with his large family, was suffering through very, very difficult times. He wrote in his journal:
“One of my children came in and said that Brother Newton Hall’s folks was out of bread, had none that day.
“I divided our flour in a sack to send up to Brother Hall. Just then Brother Hall came.
“Says I, ‘Brother Hall, are you out of flour?’
“‘Brother Millett, we have none.’
“‘Well, Brother Hall, there is some in that sack. I have divided and was going to send it to you. Your children told mine that you was out.’
“Brother Hall began to cry. He said he had tried others, but could not get any. He went to the cedars and prayed to the Lord, and the Lord told him to go to Joseph Millett.
“‘Well Brother Hall, you needn’t bring this back. If the Lord sent you for it you don’t owe me for it.’”
That night Joseph Millett recorded a remarkable sentence in his journal:
“You can’t tell me how good it made me feel to know that the Lord knew there was such a person as Joseph Millett” (Diary of Joseph Millett, holograph, Archives of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, Salt Lake City).

Kimo stood at the sea’s edge and watched the waves gently toss the little boats moored in the cove. He turned to his yellow dog, Paka, and scoffed, “The sea is not such a scary thing.”
With curious brown eyes, Paka looked at his master.
Kimo continued, his voice full of scorn, “Because I am only nine, my parents and brothers say that I am too young to go out in a boat by myself and catch a fish. They say that the sea will swallow me. Well, they are wrong!”
Paka whimpered sympathetically.
“I’m almost a man, Paka, but they treat me as though I were a baby.”
Kimo dug his toes into the warm ground and watched a sand crab scuttle to its hole. “If I could just go out in the boat all by myself and catch a fish, the biggest fish my family has ever seen, then they would treat me like a grown-up!”
He imagined the faces of his parents and five older brothers when he showed them the gigantic fish he would catch. At first they would be surprised; then they would be proud of him. They would visit all the neighbors and say, “Come see the large fish Kimo caught by himself. No one in our town has seen such a large fish!”
He smiled at the pleasant picture in his mind. “I’ll show them,” he told Paka.
That night, Kimo waited until the others had gone to sleep. Quietly he crept outside. The moon overhead was full, casting a creamy light everywhere. “Paka,” he called softly.
Sleepily the dog padded toward him.
“Let’s go.”
In moments, boy and dog were at the seashore. Kimo went to the small grove of trees where he had hidden the things he would need: a rope, a knife, his father’s best pole, and bait. As he handled each item, his stomach knotted into a small, tight fist. For a moment he paused. Maybe his father was right. Maybe the sea was no place for an inexperienced nine-year-old boy. Kimo looked at the cove. The boats bobbed lightly on the water’s surface.
He lifted his chin. He’d been thinking like a baby. He picked up his provisions and whistled to Paka. Together they ran across the beach and waded into the shallow water to the family boat. It was small, like other family boats, but it suddenly seemed very large to Kimo when he placed his gear inside.
Untying the rope that held the boat to the mooring pole, he reached for Paka, who was shivering patiently, then crawled into the boat. “Good boy, Paka,” soothed the boy as he placed the dog on the boat’s bottom. “Everything is going to be just fine.” He began to row away from the shore.
Before long the shoreline was just a distant white sliver gleaming in the moonlight. Out on the water, Kimo felt powerful. He pulled the oars inside the boat and reached for the long fishing pole. He baited the hook just as his father had taught him to, then cast the line far out into the silvery water.
The gentle waves had nearly lulled him to sleep, when Paka began to pace back and forth. Suddenly Kimo heard a drumroll of thunder and saw lightning shatter the sky. He couldn’t believe it—it was going to storm! “Oh, Paka,” he cried, “we can’t go yet. I must return with a fish!” He squinted, impatiently looking for the slightest tug on his line. He saw none.
Thunder rumbled again, closer this time. Kimo grew uneasy. He knew that he should begin rowing toward the shore before the storm got closer. But I can’t leave yet, he thought. Not without a fish.
Suddenly the boat was tossed and lifted higher and higher. As he struggled to maintain his balance, big wet drops pelted his head. Paka whined loudly. Another giant wave crashed over the boat, and his father’s fishing pole was ripped from his hands. He grabbed at it, but it was too late. The wave had snatched the pole, held it triumphantly out of reach, then swallowed it.
Kimo struggled inch by inch to row the small boat back to the cove. It seemed like hours before he finally made it. After securely tying the boat’s rope to the mooring pole, he trudged home, wondering what he would tell his father.
Then he heaved a sigh of relief. Of course! No one would think to ask him where the pole was. If he didn’t say anything, no one would ever know what he’d done. He ran the rest of the way home and quietly went to bed.
The morning sun finally awakened him. He could smell breakfast and hear the chatter of his family in the kitchen. A sick lump formed in his stomach. He knew that if the feeling was ever to go away, he would have to tell them everything. He rolled out of bed and, with his heart hammering, walked into the kitchen.
“Sleepyhead!” one of his brothers teased.
“Good morning, Kimo,” his father greeted him.
Kimo barely mumbled a reply.
“Hey, what’s wrong with baby brother?” another brother asked.
Kimo stared miserably at the ground. He gulped hard. “I must tell you something,” he finally said.
Seeing Kimo’s worried expression, his father nodded.
“Last night, I—” It was hard for him to tell them while they were staring at him.
“Yes,” his father gently prodded.
Kimo’s words finally broke loose. “I was tired of being the family baby. I wanted you to treat me like a man. So I decided to prove myself by going out in the boat alone and catching a big fish.”
Kimo saw his father’s face grow very grave, but he continued. “Paka and I took the boat while you were asleep. I rowed far from the cove. Then it started storming, and I lost the pole. I … I was very frightened.”
There was a long silence. Finally Kimo’s father spoke. “It is a wise thing to be frightened of a stormy sea. I would have been frightened myself.”
Kimo looked up wonderingly at his father.
“What you did last night, Kimo, was a very dangerous and childish thing.” Kimo bowed his head in shame. “However, it takes a man to accept the responsibility for his mistakes. I thank you for telling us. I am happy that I have an honest son. Now go and do your chores, and later we will decide together how you shall make amends.”
Kimo left the kitchen and went outside. Paka ran up to greet him. “I did it,” Kimo told the little dog. “Not in the way I expected to, but at least in one way I have become a man in the eyes of my father.”
And he did all his chores that day with a glad heart.

Roger was having a hard time deciding what to suggest for Wednesday. But when Mom said she would be gone all day, his eyes sparkled. “Today the Sunshine Club stays home to help Mom.”
“But we always help,” Johnny said, disappointed.
“We do our regular jobs—but I mean special ones.”
So that afternoon the children washed all the windows and the kitchen floor. Then they made some corn bread, heated up some stew, and sneaked out of the kitchen just as Mom came home. She was pleased to see the shiny clean windows and glossy floor and to smell supper on the stove.
“My, how wonderful to have so many mysterious elves around our home,” she remarked at supper. “This stew is delicious, and the corn bread tastes great!”

Youth and leaders witnessed an awesome spectacle in the morning sky of Arizona last February. Two high-powered, nine-foot-tall, fiberglass rockets launched into the sky with spectacular results.
Three months of design and construction culminated in a friendly competition between the young men and young women of the Pleasant Second Ward in Chandler, Arizona. Guided by Mia Maid Mara Egolf and her father—both members of the Arizona High Power Rocketry Association—the youth spent several Saturday mornings learning about rocket construction.
The youth each wrote down goals to help them arise and shine forth in the coming year. The young men put their goals in their red-and-gold “Sons of Helaman” rocket, and the young women put theirs in their purple-and-white “Integrity” rocket. Then both rockets were launched into the heavens.
As for the competition, there is some controversy over which rocket won. In a flight faithful to the name she bears, “Integrity” functioned flawlessly, and according to onboard readings reached an altitude of 11,619 feet before parachuting gracefully back to earth.
There’s a saying in model rocketry, Brother Egolf told the youth, “When things go according to plan, it’s cool. When things go bad, it’s way cool.” “Sons of Helaman” arced at just under 12,000 feet before a malfunction caused the rocket, traveling at nearly the speed of sound, to crash into the desert floor. At the impact crater the young men were able to salvage only two tail fins and a piece of the nosecone.

One day Toshiro Yoshizawa, who served in the army during the war, encountered two young Americans holding a meeting in the street; they were among the first LDS missionaries called to serve in Japan after the war. One of them, Elder Ray Price, spoke with respect of the service Japanese soldiers had given their country and talked of how all men and women are brothers and sisters and ought to treat each other with love. This message drew Toshiro to gospel study and eventually to conversion. He and his wife, Midori, baptized in 1953, are among Japanese pioneers whose service helped sustain the Church after its postwar establishment. Brother Yoshizawa went on to become a branch president, district president, counselor to four mission presidents, stake president, and mission president. He was called as patriarch of the Fukuoka stake in 1986. Sister Yoshizawa has served as a teacher in the Sunday School and in numerous Relief Society teaching and leadership callings, often holding several callings at the same time in the early years.

But another day with my father shaped my life forever. He took me from New Jersey to the home of an ordained patriarch in Salt Lake City. I had never seen the man before. My father left me at the doorstep. The patriarch led me to a chair, placed his hands on my head, and pronounced a blessing as a gift from God that included a declaration of the great desire of my heart.

He said that I was one of those of whom it had been said, “Blessed are the peacemakers.”6 I was so surprised that a perfect stranger could know my heart that I opened my eyes to see the room where such a miracle was happening. That blessing of my possibilities has shaped my life, my marriage, and my priesthood service.

Two Brisbane youth recently completed a unique double. As members of the 11th Regional Army Cadet Unit, Michelle Park and Rebecca Hollis received awards as cadets of the year at their annual ceremonial parade. Michelle and Rebecca are the only Church members in the cadet unit, which covers the 16 high schools in the Logan City area.
“I’ve been told the other cadets really respect us for the standards we keep,” Rebecca says. “They know we don’t smoke or drink or swear.”
“Just the same,” Michelle says, “it’s nice to have Rebecca around to help me maintain my standards.”

“Let’s ride our bikes down by the stream,” I said to my friend Amy.
“OK. I just need to ask my mom first,” Amy answered.
A little while later we were happily riding down our street. The stream was just a few blocks from my home. A dirt path ran beside it. We rode our bikes to the end of the path, and on our way back we stopped to toss some rocks into the stream.
“Let’s race sticks,” I said. We both looked for a small twig to toss into the water.
“Ready, set, go!” Amy yelled. We threw our sticks into the water and watched as they floated around a bend in the stream and out of sight.
“I think you won,” I said.
We continued riding our bikes back up the path. I stopped to pick up a stick lying across the path and tossed it in the stream. Before I could spot where the stick had landed, a buzzing cloud encircled me. Within seconds, hundreds of yellow jackets covered my body. Chills of fear ran up my spine. I had stepped on their nest somewhere underneath the brush.
“Run!” Amy yelled. “They’re all over you!”
Just as I was about to swing my arms to try to swat them away, I had a strong feeling not to move. I remembered what I had been taught whenever a bee or wasp was on me: The best thing to do is stay still. They won’t sting unless they feel threatened.
Fighting the urge to run, I felt the yellow jackets crawl into my hair. They walked across my ears and up the sleeves of my shirt. My rapid breathing shook my body, even though I tried not to move.
“Hurry, Amy, go get my dad,” I stammered under my breath. My friend raced up the dirt path.
Suddenly, one of the yellow jackets stung my cheek. Shocked by the sharp pain, I jumped and screamed. The persistent thought remained: “Hold still!”
I continued to stay motionless as the yellow jackets crawled on me. I quietly prayed, “Heavenly Father, please help me escape the swarm. Please, please help me.”
A minute later, a wasp stung my other cheek. Startled once more, I flinched. My body trembled as I began to cry. Then the entire swarm flew away.
Worn out, I picked up my bike and walked up the dirt path as tears streamed down my cheeks. As I reached the paved road, I could see the relief in Dad’s eyes as he ran toward me. Sobbing, I explained everything that had happened.
“You were very blessed,” Dad said as he examined my cheeks. “What made you stand there so still?”
“At first I felt like swatting at them and running, especially when I realized they were crawling in my hair and clothes, but then I had a strong feeling to hold still,” I explained.
“That was the Holy Ghost, Kelly,” Dad said. “The Spirit gives us promptings so we will know in our minds and feel in our hearts what to do. It may not be what we want to do, but if we obey those feelings we will be protected from danger. I’m so grateful you listened and followed His prompting.”
Even though my cheeks throbbed with pain, I felt extremely blessed to be safe from the swarm.

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