Gospel Story Finder

Recently I listened to a young mother address a ward Relief Society meeting. She told us that she is losing her eyesight. She expressed gratitude for those who had been reading to her, driving her to appointments, and for another sister who was teaching her to play the piano. Relief Society sisters through their acts of kindness had offered her their light and helped to lessen the fear of this very difficult time of her transition into a world of darkness.

In the summer of 2009, I was bitten on my face by my friend’s dog. Unfortunately, the bite split my lip open, and I had to get stitches.
Following the injury, I was very downhearted. I allowed adversity to take over my thoughts, and I felt like my whole life had been ruined. I was self-conscious about my lip and didn’t want to go out in public at all. In my mind my plans for piano, volleyball, church, swimming, and school were crushed by my injury.
But whenever I prayed, received priesthood blessings, talked with my parents, or had visits by my family and friends, my spirits were lifted and I felt happiness at a time of sadness. I soon realized that if people were thinking about my injury, they were feeling compassion.
This experience helped build my character, and I learned not to be as worried about what other people thought about me. I was also blessed because my injury helped me realize that I should think less about myself and start caring more for others. My spirit was greatly strengthened during this time.
I learned that adversity is a part of Heavenly Father’s plan for us. If we look for the good and not the bad, we can overcome adversity, become a better person, and let the experience strengthen our testimony.

I was 12 years old when my dad was called to serve as a mission president in Mexico. It was fun to be in a new country, but I was also sad to leave so many friends and family members, especially when Christmas came around.
In my homeland of Argentina, all of my extended family would gather together for Christmas, and I was sad that we wouldn’t get to be there. But I decided I was going to be open to creating new traditions and memories. After all, I love new adventures.
Because my sister and I were on Christmas holiday, we accompanied my parents on a tour of the mission. Seeing all the missionaries, I realized I wasn’t the only one who was going to be celebrating Christmas far away from home and family. That year, I learned that no matter where we are, the most important thing to do on Christmas is remember our Savior. The missionaries were dedicating their time to the Lord, and I thought that was one of the best things to be doing during this time of the year.
For the next three years, my family created new traditions, and my favorite one soon became spending Christmas Eve with the missionaries. We would sing and listen to Christmas songs while we made blankets to give to people in need. Our night was based on service and remembering Jesus Christ. I will never forget spending Christmas in Mexico and how close I felt to God.
Sofia S., Buenos Aires, Argentina

When I started high school, my friends and I all had the same attitude about drinking and wild parties—we stayed away. But some of them were slowly enticed to experiment and would tease the rest of us for being so obedient. When we got to be juniors and seniors, several others had fallen into the same trap—they allowed “Monty” to get too close, thinking that he was their friend, when he really wanted only to destroy them.

I thought of times in my life when I allowed Satan to get closer to me than he should have. If I had jumped and run each time I saw the “very appearance of evil,” I could have saved myself a lot of grief. I thought of occasions when I, like the rat, rationalized my way through compromising situations, knowing initially the danger involved, but then slowly telling myself that I could handle it.

I can understand now why Satan is so often referred to as a serpent in the scriptures. Even though I still stumble sometimes, I am more alert to Satan’s method of attraction. I can see it coming and run before it’s too late.

I’ve told the story about the little baby nine months old who was born blind. The father came up with him one Sunday and said, “Brother Cowley, our baby hasn’t been blessed yet, we’d like you to bless him.” I said, “Why have you waited so long?” “Oh, we just didn’t get around to it.” …

I said, “All right, what’s the name?” So he told me the name, and I was just going to start when he said, “By the way, give him his vision when you give him a name. He was born blind.” It shocked me, but then said to myself, why not? Christ said to his disciples when he left them, “Greater things than I have done shall you do.” (See John 14:12.) I had faith in that father’s faith. After I gave that child its name, I finally got around to giving it its vision. That boy is about twelve years old now. The last time I was back there I was afraid to inquire about him. I was sure he had gone blind again. That’s the way my faith works sometimes. So I asked the branch president about him. And he said, “Brother Cowley, the worst thing you ever did was to bless that child to receive his vision. He’s the meanest kid in this neighborhood; always getting into mischief.” Boy I was thrilled about that kid getting into mischief!

Several years ago, when I was about 26 years old, I was living in San Jose, California, and teaching high school. I loved my job, I loved my singles ward, I had great friends, and I was genuinely happy. But one day I was having one of those days where I felt lonely, discouraged, and a little sad. So I decided to go to an endowment session in the Oakland Temple.
I hopped in my car, turned on a CD of sacred music, and started my drive to the temple. The drive was about an hour and a half long. As I drove, I had time to think, to ponder, and to pray. At that point in my life, I was feeling a little discouraged by the fact that I hadn't yet had the opportunity to be married. I knew that being married and having a family were righteous desires. In fact, I knew they were an important part of the plan of salvation. And I was discouraged that my righteous desire hadn't been fulfilled.
So, as I drove, I prayed and talked to my Father in Heaven about my concerns, my fears, and my hopes and dreams. As I pondered and drove, I wasn't really listening to the music, but suddenly my attention turned to the words of the song playing in my car. The words to the song came straight from a scripture in Proverbs: "Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.
"In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths."[1]
As I heard those words in the song, I knew they were a direct answer to my prayer. I felt a little like Joseph Smith when he said, "Never did any passage of scripture come with more power to the heart of man than this did at this time to mine."[2] I felt an overwhelming feeling of peace and understood that the Lord was telling me to trust Him, that He had a plan for me, that I would be happy and have joy in this life if I trusted in the Lord and His timing. I needed to allow the Lord to direct my path.
This special and sacred experience continued as I attended the temple. The feeling of peace I felt in my car continued with me throughout the session. The endowment session was quite small, but after the session was over, three different sisters I didn't know came up to me individually in the dressing room or the temple lobby and said things like "I felt impressed that Heavenly Father wanted me to tell you how much He loves you" or "I know Heavenly Father is pleased that you are here in the temple today." As I left the temple, I knew with a certainty that Heavenly Father loved me and had a plan for my life.
Since that day, I have tried to trust the Lord with all my heart. Keep in mind, the answer to my prayer wasn't for the Lord to change my situation. Thirteen years have passed, I'm now 39, and I still haven't had the opportunity to be married. Rather than changing my situation, the Lord changed my heart. As I have trusted in the Lord and his timing, He has given me immense peace and joy. I am truly happy and content.

I am reminded of a commercial I saw many years ago on YouTube. A young woman who looked to be in her late twenties visited her aging father in his apartment. As she entered the apartment, her father was busy cooking at the stove. The daughter greeted him with a kiss and then turned to assist by washing some dishes in the sink. Thus, her back was turned to her father. She began to speak, asking a question: “Dad, how do you like the new iPad I bought you for your birthday?”

She heard no response, so she asked again, in a little louder voice, “Dad, do you like the new iPad I gave you?” Again, no response.

With a little frustration, the daughter turned around to face her father and opened her mouth to ask the question a third time. But before she could speak, she watched with alarm as her father finished chopping carrots and celery, using the brand-new iPad as a cutting board, and then stepped over to a pot of boiling stew, where he used a knife to scrape the chopped vegetables from the iPad into the boiling water.

Obviously, her aging father did not know the value of the iPad or what it could do when used for its intended purposes by someone who understood the rules by which it operated. Without this understanding, her father could not appreciate the gift his daughter had given him and could not enjoy the full use of the gift.

Paint buckets and plundering. Our lives are busy, and it was difficult to read every day. We finally decided that we would read no matter what, and we found ourselves reading in some rather unusual places—sitting on paint buckets as we worked on our remodeling project or around a campfire in our backyard. We wondered if our four-year-old was even listening at times, but then one day when asked why his room was so messy, he replied, “Someone has been plundering in there!” Buxton family, West Point, Utah, USA

I was just a young boy when I sat in a stake conference in the Tooele Utah Stake, listening carefully to the visitor. He was LeGrand Richards, and he preached the gospel in his warm and spiritual way. That positive experience has stayed with me. I don’t remember what he said, but I do know how I felt as he spoke. I learned later that I felt that way because I was listening to a special witness of Jesus Christ. I knew he knew, and somehow my roots grew deeper that day as to truths of the gospel.

I was at a friend’s birthday party with about 10 other girls. We had lots of fun. We sang karaoke, played games, made crafts, and opened presents. After the pizza and birthday cake we decided to watch a movie. I asked my friend what it was rated. She said PG-13. I let her know that I couldn’t watch it and suggested another movie. She said, “Come on, your mom is not going to know you watched it. I really want to see it.” The others agreed with her.
I felt uncomfortable because I didn’t want to ruin her party. But I knew that I wasn’t going to watch it. I said, “OK, you watch it, and I’ll watch another movie on the other TV.”
She thought about it and said, “Let’s just all watch your movie. It will be good too.”
I know that it’s important to stay strong and faithful to Church standards. If you do, you will be blessed. The Holy Ghost will be with you. In a family home evening I learned that I need to make choices before I am actually faced with the decision. It makes it easier to stand strong for your standards. I am thankful for friends who respected me for my choice. I know that Heavenly Father gives us commandments so that we can be happy.

Sometimes I have walked at dusk in the hills near my home. I watch the sun setting in the west over the lake and the shadows lengthening until the most familiar landmarks around me are gradually obscured in the darkness. I suddenly feel alone and a little unsure. But then a little miracle occurs. One by one the lights begin appearing—in the houses, along the streets—and even in the surrounding darkness, I regain my sense of direction. Reassured and cheered by their brightness, I make my way safely home.

Sometimes we are faced with keeping our covenants when there seems to be no logical reason to do so. I listened to a single sister tell of her experience of “coming to trust the Lord completely.” Her life had not worked out as she had expected. Sound familiar? This period of soul-searching was marked by changing jobs, new financial pressures, tugs from worldly philosophies. Now listen to what she did. She sat down with other sisters in her ward and found that they too were searching to find the peace the gospel brings. She asked for a priesthood blessing. She valiantly carried forward in her calling. She studied and tried to more fully commit her love, appreciation, and conviction to Jesus. She prayed. “I cried to the Lord,” she said, “and told Him I would do whatever He would ask of me.” She did all this despite those difficulties. And do you know what happened? No, her eternal companion did not appear on her doorstep. But peace made its way into her heart, and life got better.

I was invited to a birthday party, and they popped a balloon full of candy for us to pick up. Some of the children didn’t get any. One child who didn’t was crying. He wanted some of the candy from the balloon. I gave him two pieces of the candy I had picked up. Then he started to look around, hoping to still find some candy on the floor. Without him seeing, I threw a piece for him to find. He grabbed it and said, “Finally I got one.” I felt warm inside because he was happy again.

An amazing event occurred in 1976. Alex Hailey, the eminent biographer, stirred the hearts and souls of people all over the world with his publication of Roots. He successfully plodded back through his African slave ancestry pulling together family verbal history, slave shipping records, and personal spiritual experiences that ignited an interest in family research before unheard of.

Roots became the best seller in United States publishing history. Translated into 30 languages, it sold 6 million copies. A year later, it was televised in a 7-night mini-series that reached 130 million viewers, the greatest program audience in television history at that time. It has continued to air on cable stations. According to an article in the Congressional Quarterly, Alex Hailey’s Roots is the primary cause of the worldwide surge in interest in Family History, making it the second-most popular hobby today. You may recall Mr. Hailey’s moving statement:

In all of us there is a hunger, marrow deep, to know our heritage…to know who we are and where we came from. Without this enriching knowledge, there is a hollow yearning.

A few months before his untimely death, as the Executive Director of the Church Family History Department, I was a guest at Mr. Hailey’s farm in Norris, Tennessee. As we visited, I asked, “Alex, do you have any idea how much impact you and your book have had on the people of the world?”

He answered, “I think so.”

I said, “I haven’t been involved in Family History Administration too many years, but it seems to me there is an invisible hand guiding this work, bringing people like you and scientific developments and special events together toward a pre-determined course.”

He slammed his fist on his knee and said, “That’s right! I felt the guiding hand of the Lord.”

“L?ook!” Sasha whispered. “Another squirrel.” He was having fun exploring the Sochi Arboretum. The giant park had all kinds of beautiful flowers and trees. Back home, in central Russia, it was still snowy and freezing cold. But here in Sochi, the sun was shining, and the air smelled like spring.
Sasha watched the squirrel nibble on a nut. It still had its thick winter coat, but Sasha guessed it was as excited for spring as he was. He grinned as the squirrel scurried up a tree.
Just then Mama’s phone rang. “Hello?” Mama said. She paused. “But I thought our tickets were for tomorrow! It’s today?” Soon she hung up the phone.
“Sasha! We have to go now. Our tour of the Skypark is this morning, and the bus is leaving in 15 minutes!”
“Can we get to the bus stop that soon?” Sasha asked.
“I hope so. Let’s pray in our hearts and do our best.” Mama took his hand, and they started to run.
The Sochi Arboretum was big. Sasha wasn’t sure they could find the way out! But he said a prayer in his heart. Please help us get to the bus stop in time. We’d really like to go to the Skypark.
The Skypark was an adventure park high up in the mountains. It had giant swings, climbing walls, ziplines, and a ropes course. It also had the Skybridge—a super-long bridge hanging high up in the sky. Sasha hoped they would get there in time.
Finally they found the main road and looked for a taxi. They saw one right away! They hopped in and Mama told the driver the name of the bus stop.
“You’re lucky!” the driver said. “I know a shortcut.”
Sasha stared out the window as they sped past the trees.
“Do you think we’ll make it?” Sasha asked Mama.
Mama looked at her watch. “I don’t know. But we prayed. And even if we don’t make it, that’s OK. We’re on an adventure!”
Soon they were at the bus stop. The bus wasn’t even there yet! It was late.
Mama and Sasha were still breathing hard, but Sasha smiled. “That driver was right! We are lucky.”
“I don’t think it was just luck, dear,” Mama said. “Sometimes we have little miracles that remind us how much Heavenly Father loves us.”
Just then, the bus pulled up. Mama and Sasha climbed on and headed off to the Skypark. Sasha was grateful tor this little miracle!
This story took place in Russia.

Many years ago, I had just graduated from BYU in mathematics. I was accepted into graduate school at Utah State University and was promised a teaching assistantship.
I moved my family to Logan and went to meet with a professor, who I will call Dr. Caldon. He was over the teaching assistants and would be my supervisor. When I walked into his office, the first thing he said shocked me. He said, “I don’t like you.”
I had never met the man in my life. He also said he would not give me the promised assistantship. He said if I still wanted to go to school there I could teach twice as many classes for half the assistantship pay. I accepted, feeling a prompting that was what the Lord would have me do.
Later that fall, there was a party for graduate students, faculty, and their spouses at the home of another professor I will call Dr. David Jensen. I knew little about Dr. Jensen except that he was an atheist.
I decided that it would be good to go to the party, and Donna, my wife, agreed to go with me. When we arrived at Dr. Jensen’s home, a sign on the door told the guests to go through the side gate into the backyard. Donna and I did this, and the first person we ran into was the only professor there—my supervisor, Dr. Caldon. He was drunk, and the minute he saw us, he started to mock me.
“Oh, look,” he called out to the other students who were already there. “The party is now ruined. We have a Mormon goody-two-shoes here, and we won’t be able to have any fun.”
He continued mocking me, and Donna, who wasn’t used to this, whispered, “What is he doing?”
I just told her to ignore him and suggested we go to the opposite corner of the yard. We moved as far away from him as we could, but it just made things worse. Instead of just speaking the things he had been saying, he now yelled them out across the yard to make sure everyone could hear him.
After he had mocked me for a while, a group of other professors entered the yard, led by Dr. Jensen. They were toting big coolers. When Dr. Jensen heard what Dr. Caldon was yelling, he told him to stop. Then Dr. Jensen made an announcement: “The coolers are all full of beer provided by the department. Everyone drink all you want.”
At that point, everyone else moved to the coolers, leaving Donna and me standing alone. Dr. Jensen came over. “Hey,” he said, “why don’t you come join us? Can I get you a beer?”
“Thanks,” I replied, “but we don’t drink alcohol.”
Dr. Jensen looked surprised. “Why not?”
“We’re members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints,” I answered.
“You’re what?” he asked.
“People sometimes call us Mormons,” I replied.
Dr. Jensen stared at us for a moment in stunned silence. Then he asked, “Is not drinking alcohol a Mormon belief, or is it just yours?”
“It’s part of our church’s belief,” I replied.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know. What would you normally drink when socializing?”
“Well,” I said, “I like root beer, and Donna likes Sprite, but water would be fine.”
He shook his head. “Not at my party.”
He left the party and disappeared for about twenty minutes. When he returned, he had a root beer and a Sprite for us. Donna would never go to a department party again. But at every party I ever went to after that, Dr. Jensen always made sure there was a root beer and a Sprite with tape around them and my name on it.
The following year, I took a class from Dr. Jensen. One of the first things I learned was that he was close to my age, around 24 years old. He had graduated from high school at around 16 years of age, and he went quickly through college, getting a doctorate in mathematics.
Math was Dr. Jensen’s world. On our first day of class, he walked in and informed us that it was impossible to teach anything of value in a math class in one hour. So, instead of having class one hour, three days per week, we were moving it to Tuesdays and Thursdays from four to five-thirty. It was still three hours per week, and it fit everyone’s schedule, so we made the change.
But one problem with Dr. Jensen was he would get so wound up in the math that nothing else mattered. He never wore a watch, and the room didn’t have a clock. He would go and go and go, hardly taking a breath. And when he finally did, he would ask, “Anybody got the time?”
By the time he finally asked that, it was almost always around nine o’clock. He would gasp when we told him, since we were supposed to end at five-thirty, and he would say, “Is it really?” Then he would say, “Let me finish this one last thing, and then we’ll quit.” Then he would go for another hour. I always left exhausted.
The class was a full-year class, going from September to June. We were in the middle of May when something interesting happened. As we ended at the typical ten o’clock time that night, Dr. Jensen called me by name, asked me to stay, and said he wanted to talk to me.
I stayed, and he didn’t say anything until everyone else had left. Then he asked, “Will you please close the door?”
I closed the door and returned to my seat, feeling somewhat anxious about what he wanted to talk about. He sat on the edge of his desk at the front of the room, folded his arms, and the first words out of his mouth caught me by surprise. He said, “There are some things about you that really bug me.”
I was dumbfounded by this. I had thought that we had become friends over that year. After I regained my composure, I asked, “What is it, David?”
This was another unusual thing about Dr. Jensen. He insisted we call him by his first name. He didn’t care for titles, and since he was about the same age as we were, calling him Dr. Jensen made him feel old.
“Do you remember that party at my house the fall you first came here?” he asked.
“Yes, I remember,” I replied.
“Well,” he said, “when you wouldn’t drink alcohol with us because of your religious beliefs, I said to my wife, ‘I hope he never takes my class because he couldn’t be very logical.’ And this last fall, when you signed up for my class, I dreaded having you in it. But when I read your first test, I found your logic was impeccable. I even read it three times.”
“So, what’s the problem?” I asked.
“The problem is that those two things, logic and a belief in God, don’t go together in my mind. I keep thinking that your belief in God would gradually fade away, but if anything, it seems to have gotten stronger, as has your logic. I have watched you, analyzed you, evaluated every assignment you have written, and I don’t feel any closer to understanding you than I did when the school year started. I’ve reread each paper and assignment you’ve turned in at least three times, thinking that someday I will find something that will be the key for me to understand how this contradiction is possible. But I never found anything. I want to know what makes you tick, or I’m going to go crazy the rest of my life thinking about it. “
It was late at night, I was exhausted, and I had never had a question like this before. I didn’t know what to say. “David, can I have some time to think about this?”
He nodded. “Okay. But if you don’t help me understand, I’ll fail you.”
I agreed that I would do my best to answer his concerns. We set one week later after class to talk again.
As I drove home, I pondered the difference between Dr. Caldon and Dr. Jensen.
But how was I to academically explain an understanding of God to someone with no spiritual background?
I went home that night and told Donna what had happened. “He’s not trying to be mean,” I said. “He’s really sincere and wants to know. And you remember how kind he was to us at that party when we were first here.” I asked her what she thought I should do to answer Dr. Jensen.
“Pray about it,” she replied.
I sarcastically thought, “Thanks for the help,” but that’s exactly what I needed to do.
That was a Thursday, and when the weekend came, I fasted and prayed to know what to do. That Sunday morning, I had an unusual experience. Donna and I went to church, and she went in ahead of me to take our oldest daughter down to the nursery. I followed minutes later, carrying our baby and the diaper bag.
But everything was strange. Usually, the foyer would be full of people visiting, but this time, there was only one old gentleman there. I looked at my watch, and it was the usual time when the foyer should be bustling with people. My first thought was that it must be stake conference week and we were missing it.
As I stood there, feeling somewhat confused, the old man walked over to me and asked, “You’re a mathematician, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” I replied.
“I have something you need to read,” he said and handed me a paper.
He then turned and walked away. I looked at the paper, and it was a talk by President Dallin H. Oaks called, “In the Lord’s Way,” which I assume he had given at BYU when he had been president there.
In the talk, President Oaks said that there are things we learn in the ways of science and there are things we learn in the ways of God. To learn the things of science, we propose a hypothesis and test it, then adjust as necessary and test again. But to learn the things of God, we must do it in God’s way: faith, humility, prayer, obedience to commandments, repentance, good works, and scripture study. Neither understanding can be fully realized by only using the opposite method.
Speaking of learning by reason and by faith, President Oaks said, “Both are necessary. Reason comes first, so it can serve as a threshold check on authenticity. True revelation has the last and decisive word on the things of God, for ‘no man knoweth of [God’s] ways save it be revealed unto him.’” [3]
I thought a lot about the ideas from Elder Oaks’ talk and realized it was the answer I needed. I reread it multiple times. When the next Thursday came, Dr. Jensen let class out early—like nine o’clock—and invited me down to his office. When we got there, he sat in his chair, leaned back, and said, “Well?”
“David,” I said, “this is one of the hardest things I have ever done because you might not have experienced anything like what I’m going to try to explain. But I will do my best.”
I then shared with him the ideas from the talk by President Oaks about gaining knowledge in science versus learning in God’s way.
When I finished, I said, “Basically, David, it boils down to this. There are things I know with my mind because I have proven them with logic. But there are things I know with at least the same certainty with my heart because I have proven them in God’s way, and I do know them.”
Dr. Jensen leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling for some time, deep in thought. Finally, he nodded and said, “That makes a lot of sense. My father was an atheist, as was my grandfather, and I have never sought to find God because I was taught that He doesn’t exist. But it makes sense that if He does exist, a person would have to find Him in a different way.”

Illustration by Trent Gudmundsen
On the surface, my childhood was very normal.
We went to church and attended all of our Church meetings and activities. I went to school and played with my friends. As a teenager, I did all the things that normal teenagers do. I hung out with my friends and was in the choir and drama club. I went to prom. But there was a very dark secret underneath that happy, normal exterior.
From the time I was about two years old, I had been a victim of sexual abuse by my two older brothers. They also abused my sisters. We were too young to understand what was happening, but as I grew older, I began to understand a little. I felt dark and dirty whenever I was in the presence of my brothers.
After attending a Young Women class where they taught about morality, I understood the meaning of virtue and chastity. I listened to my leaders plead with me and the others in my class to stay morally clean.
I wondered, “How could I be morally clean?” As far back as my memories could go, I had been a victim of sexual abuse. I couldn’t help but wonder what the Lord thought of me. Was I a virtuous young woman? Was I worthy to date the righteous young men in my ward and school? Did the abuse I had suffered make me unworthy of a temple marriage?
I thought a lot about it. It didn’t make sense to me that I would be considered unvirtuous when what happened to me was not my choice. Why shouldn’t I be able to feel virtuous? Was I unworthy of the Lord’s love? Did I require repentance?
I honestly did not know. I felt that I was not to blame, but at the same time, I felt dirty and degraded and totally humiliated. I couldn’t get the courage to tell my parents or anyone else. I did try several times, but I felt too embarrassed and I didn’t know how to say the words. I just tried to forget that it was happening.
When I was 15 years old, my little sisters found the courage that I lacked. They talked to a counselor at school. A short time later, one of my brothers was arrested and sentenced to three years in prison. But still, for years afterward, I suffered with the same fears that I wasn’t virtuous or worthy.
Eventually, one day I got the courage to go see my bishop. He explained that the Lord does not hold me accountable at all for the sexual acts that were forced on me as a child and young woman. He assured me that it was not at all my fault. I stood blameless before the Lord. I was still virtuous!
With some counseling from professionals and help from my bishop, I have been able to leave the abuse—and the pain and suffering it caused—behind me. Now I really do have a happy and normal life. I was married in the temple to a righteous man, and we are raising our family happily.
Sometimes the past will intrude on my thoughts, however, and I can remember the anguish that I felt as I pondered my worthiness.
I wonder how many other young people are out there in a situation like the one I was in, feeling ashamed and humiliated, wondering about their virtue and where they fit in God’s plan.
To these young people I want to say, the Lord loves you.
His heart aches for you.
He knows that you are not to blame.
He knows that you are truly virtuous.
He will help you find the courage and strength to live your life with happiness.

While I was serving in the U.S. Air Force during World War II, my missionary experience in Brazil was instrumental in my not entering into direct combat. After completing my advanced navigational training, all of our flight group entered directly into combat except one other lieutenant and myself, who were assigned to be instructors at the school. Later a group of Brazilian cadets were assigned to our base, and because of my knowledge of Portuguese gained during my mission, I was assigned to their class. A few months later, I received my orders to report for overseas combat training. When the Brazilian cadets’ commanding officer learned of this, he went to my commanding officer, explained that I was the only instructor that could speak Portuguese and told him how much they needed me to stay. My orders were cancelled.
Finally orders went out from the commanding general that all base personnel that had not had overseas combat experience were to be assigned to go. I was sent to Chatham Field, Georgia, where I was assigned as the navigator on a B–29, the newest and largest bomber in the Air Force at that time. We entered our training with a departure date for Saipan in the South Pacific set for September 15. What happened? The end of the war came late in August, and I missed getting into combat by two weeks. A series of coincidences? I think not. Once again prayers were answered.

Because of the relationships and goodwill he has formed over the years, the local police approached Arthur to help develop an Independent Advisory Group in Northamptonshire. IAGs were originally formed in response to the killing of the black teenager Steven Lawrence in London. Their aim is to provide guidance, insight and constructive challenge to local constabularies. Very quickly, Arthur became co-chair and finally chair of the group. The group involves people of many faiths, including Muslim, Sikh, Jewish, and Hindu. They work on a range of sensitive and potentially emotive issues like sexual violence, hate crime, drugs, knife crime, burglaries, gang violence, forced marriage, homelessness and keeping people safe in custody.

In October 2020, Arthur was presented with an award, recognising his contributions as chair of the Northampton Independent Advisory Group.’

As a young girl I often went with friends to pick cherries in the summer for a local farmer. I remember one hot day in July when we had eaten our sack lunches under a tree. Being very weary, we decided not to go back to work in the afternoon but instead to strike for higher wages. We felt a sudden power and adulthood as we sat in the shade on our overturned buckets.
I was eager to report to my family later in the day about our mature negotiations with the farmer. My mother, who was normally very gentle, surprised me by expressing great disappointment. She was extremely upset that we had inconvenienced that farmer when he had a crop in need of picking.
I never did learn whether I was worth more than three cents a pound, but I learned a permanent lesson—in our family we valued service and the needs of others more than power and money. Since that time it has been reassuring for me to learn that many great people I know work for much less money than they are worth because service is a greater value to them than money. Whatever career or profession you pursue, consider the value of service.