Gospel Story Finder

For as long as I can remember, every time my mother came back from the temple, she would tell us about the peace she felt there. Throughout my teenage years, we had visited the temple in Johannesburg, South Africa, to do baptisms. Finally the time came for me to receive my endowment just before I left to serve a mission.
We traveled 900 miles (1,400 km) that day to get to the temple, and my mother spent much of the journey telling me about her experiences there. She talked about the things she felt and of her closeness to Heavenly Father. By the time we arrived at the temple, it was getting dark. The sky’s blue color faded into pink, then red, and finally black. The lights came on and lit up the temple’s beautiful white spires. As we walked around the temple in the cold night air, the golden statue of the angel Moroni glistened under a spotlight. The temple grounds were quiet and restful, undisturbed by the buzz of the city.
During the endowment session, I marveled at the incredible beauty of the Creation and the amazing plan of salvation. It made me long to see my Heavenly Father again. Now I understood what my mother had talked about so often—I felt completely at peace, as if I had come home. The session ended, and it was time to leave.
We were staying with my grandparents, and as we drove home with them, we saw that there had been a storm that evening while we were in the temple. I was amazed that I had not heard the thunder, rain, or wind while I was in the temple. In disbelief I stared through the car window at all the damage: electricity poles and trees had fallen down, road surfaces had been broken up or were flooded with water, and a few roofs had been blown off.
As I pondered the events of the evening, words came into my mind as the Spirit spoke to me: “Go to the temple often. It will be a refuge from the storm.”
I have been to the temple several times since then, and every time I go, I leave behind the troubles and difficulties of this stormy world and take shelter in the peace and comfort of my Heavenly Father’s love (see Isa. 4:6; D&C 115:6).

On another occasion, near the Christmas season, I had the opportunity to meet in the Church Office Building with a group of handicapped children. There were about sixty in the group. My heart literally melted as I met with them. They sang for me “I Am a Child of God,” “Rudolph, the Red-nosed Reindeer,” and “As I Have Loved You, Love One Another.” There was such an angelic expression on their faces and such a simple trust expressed in their comments that I felt I was on sacred ground. They presented to me a beautiful booklet where each one had prepared a special page illustrating those blessings for which he or she was most thankful at Christmastime. I commend the many teachers and families who work behind the scenes in bringing a measure of comfort, purpose, and joy to these special children. They brightened my entire day.

It’s tough making the right choices when you’re 15 years old. But when your decisions affect the lives of hundreds of thousands of people, the pressure gets a little greater. That was the situation facing Amy Arreátegui Pozo when she was selected from 123 students to be the mayor of Trujillo, Peru, the third largest city in the country. Mayor for a day, that is.
When Amy was a Mia Maid in the Mousserat Ward, Trujillo Perú Laureles Stake, she attended a secondary school called the Academy of Engineering. “One of my goals,” says Amy, “was to become the student mayor [like a student-body president] from this school, and I did. That was my dream. My next goal was to win the ‘Mayor for a Day’ contest, and here I am. I finally made it. What helped me win was my confidence in myself.”
Of course, showing that she had a lot of great ideas about improving schools and neighborhoods in the city also helped. Coming up with these ideas for the contest was a lot of work, but deciding which ones to include was pretty easy. To decide, Amy used a method she’s come to depend on—a method that has given her the confidence she talks about. It’s the process of asking and receiving answers through prayer.
“Always go to Heavenly Father when you’re making a decision, and you will always make the right choice,” Amy says. That’s one reason she could handle the responsibility so well when the city of Trujillo issued the resolution recognizing her as “mayor for a day.” The city council acted to accept her activities during her 24 hours as mayor. All contracts, decisions, and authorizations would be legally binding.
Amy arrived at the city hall at 7:30 a.m., even before Mayor José Murgia Zannier, Trujillo’s mayor for more than 10 years. After being officially installed in her post, she met with Mayor Murgia to go over the day’s schedule and coordinate some details. Thus began her busy day as mayor.
In the mayor’s official vehicle, Amy made a visit to inspect a park where the city plans to build a sports and recreation center. She then visited a public school, where she met with the principal and surveyed the progress on the construction of two classrooms.
Back at city hall, Amy met with an official from the public defenders office and with the director of the San José Children’s Home. Amy quickly decided to send a group of workers to the children’s home to make some needed repairs. She also received visits from several other schools seeking funding.
At a press conference, Amy launched her teen leadership program, titled “A Challenge for the Future.” Since her program started, teen leaders from more than 100 schools in the city have met monthly with government officials to discuss the needs of education.
Then Amy presided over the city council meeting, opening the session and calling roll. She also planted a tree at the opening of a newly renovated city park and listened to the requests of neighbors living in the area. That evening, she attended a cultural event in one of the town plazas.
It was a busy day for Amy, a young woman one of the local newspapers described as “outstanding in intellect, sobriety, eloquence, and leadership abilities, but most of all in her great goals and objectives.”
The experience Amy had while serving as mayor for a day opened her eyes to the many needs within her community. One of those needs—education—was already a primary focus of Amy’s plans and programs. But Amy realizes that while school is important, there are other aspects of our lives that should take precedence over a secular education.
“I feel that here in Trujillo, which is considered the culture capital of Peru, many put the Church aside and put more focus on their studies,” Amy says. “There are many youth within the Church who don’t go on missions so they can continue with their schooling at the university or who stop going to institute classes and Church meetings.”
So while Amy studies hard in school and plans to become a psychologist, she also works hard in her calling as a Sunday School teacher and on her personal spiritual progression. She understands that there is a time for everything: a time for study, a time for church, and a time for friends, family, and fun.
It’s a question of perspective and priority. Amy explains: “The prophet wants the youth to get as much schooling as possible, and the Lord will always prepare the way for us to do it, so we don’t have to leave the Church to do something that is secular. Even though it’s important to get an education, it’s more important to do what our Heavenly Father commands.”
The youth in Peru face many of the same challenges youth face all over the world. The temptations to follow the ways of the world call loudly: pornography, immorality, and dishonesty.
“Fashion and all the trends like music are also a problem because most of us are surrounded by nonmembers, so at times it’s easy to be led by our peers and not our principles,” Amy says. She warns that we should not give in to pressure from those who would have us relax our standards. “Another problem,” she says, “is that when a young person joins the Church, he or she sometimes loses friends.”
Amy feels blessed that she has found friends and strength among her family, ward members, and fellow seminary students. They have been there to support and encourage her to follow the Lord.
Now that Amy has had a taste of what it’s like to be mayor of Trujillo, what are her plans for the future? “I will start out as a student mayor,” Amy explains, “and then perhaps become mayor of a local unit, and then mayor of a district, and then become the first woman president of Peru.”
Amy says that many young people lack the confidence to set goals and reach them because they don’t understand why they’re here on earth and what they should do in their lives. By building her life around the gospel, Amy has gained the confidence to succeed in whatever she righteously desires.
“I’ve grown closer to my Heavenly Father by praying and asking for His confirmation in whatever decision I have to make,” she says. “It is very special for me to feel His Spirit and know He approves of my choices. By having His approval, I feel that things will always, always turn out well.”

On Brother Wayman’s last day at Cornell, he was saying good-bye to friends when Kim Ho Jik approached him. Brother Wayman felt impelled to ask the Korean why he had decided to leave his homeland and family to study in the United States. The Korean scholar responded that he needed the new knowledge in nutrition available at Cornell for the benefit of his people.
Then, Brother Wayman recalls:
“I bore my testimony … and told him that it was my opinion that the Lord had moved upon him to come to America … in order that he might receive the gospel and take it back to his people in preparation for a great missionary work to be done there. … I informed him … that if he refused to do the work the Lord had for him … another would be raised up in his place.”
Brother Wayman never saw Kim ho Jik again, but he left New York “sure that the Spirit which touched me when I bore my testimony to him touched him at the same time. I could see a change in his expression.”

I am aware of how one bishop marshaled his resources to assist a man who came to him for help. The man had been happily married for years, but because of a later addiction to alcohol and drugs he was left without a job, home, or family. Hard years of living on the street had degraded and humiliated him. With tears streaming down his face, he pleaded with his bishop for help.
The ward welfare committee discussed this challenge. One man knew a dentist who might be willing to replace the man’s broken front teeth. The Relief Society president suggested that nutritious food from the bishops’ storehouse might improve his health. Another suggested that this man needed someone who could spend time with him daily and help him find the strength to overcome his addictions.
As the suggestions streamed in, the bishop realized that an entire ward of concerned brothers and sisters stood ready to help.
Soon the bishop began to notice improvements. Priesthood brethren gave the man a blessing. A charitable dentist replaced his broken teeth. Food from the bishops’ storehouse improved his health. A faithful elderly couple agreed to serve as special home teachers. They were with him daily to help him stick to his resolve.
Following established principles, this good brother offered to help others in the ward. Slowly his life began to improve. Gradually the look of desperation and misery gave way to one of joy and happiness. Although it was a painful process, he was able to free himself from his addictions. He became an active member in the Church. A life of destitution and misery turned into one of hope and happiness. This is the Lord’s way of caring for those in need.

With my baptism, my life changed. I learned that you can’t have one foot in the world and one foot in the gospel. I learned that work is not the most important thing in life. I learned that the Lord and my family come first. Finally, I understood the sadness my mother felt in my absence, and I asked her to forgive me.
I quit traveling the world, got married in the Bern Switzerland Temple, started a family, and took a job cooking at a local hospital, where I used my talents to help sick people recover. Now I am in charge of human resources at the hospital. Working locally gives me time to dedicate to my family and Church callings.

Apples to Oregon: Being the (Slightly) True Narrative of How a Brave Pioneer Father Brought Apples, Peaches, Pears, Plums, Grapes, and Cherries (and Children) Across the Plains, by Deborah Hopkinson, illustrated by Nancy Carpenter. This is the silly tall tale, based on truth, of how young Delicious and her family faced rivers, storms, drought in the desert, and other obstacles on their way across the plains to the West. The colorful oil painting illustrations give even more life to this exciting tale.

Randol lived in Bolivia. He loved going to school, and he took good care of his schoolbooks. His favorite book had a yellow cover and interesting drawings.
One day Randol could not find his yellow book. His mom and dad helped him look, but they still could not find it.
Randol was very sad. “Let’s pray,” Randol’s father said. “We’ll ask Heavenly Father to help us.”
After the prayer Randol’s father had an idea.“Let’s talk to your uncle,” he said. “Maybe his children used the same book and they will let you borrow it.”
This will be the answer to our prayer, Randol thought.
Randol’s family went to his uncle’s store. They asked him about the yellow book. Uncle said his children had never used that book.
Now Randol was confused. Wasn’t Heavenly Father going to answer their prayer?
Just then, some men came into Uncle’s store selling books. They had the book with a yellow cover!
Randol’s father bought the book. Randol thanked Heavenly Father for answering his prayer.

When I began my service mission, it was hard for me to feel like a missionary. It felt like I was just coming home from college for the summer.
I was glad I didn’t have to leave my friends and family, but at the same time, I craved to feel the spiritual retreat that I imagined teaching missionaries experience when they leave home. I decided I needed to turn my home into a spiritual safe haven.
And I’ve learned it is possible to invite the Spirit into the place you call home, regardless of your circumstances!
The following are ideas that helped me turn my home into a holy place that allowed me to feel connected to the Savior.
At the start of my mission, I spent time in prayer seeking the gift of discernment. I had impressions about what was lessening my ability to feel like a missionary.
I prayed to know if my hobbies were appropriate mission activities. When my answer was yes, my activities felt consecrated to Him. The simple act of involving God made my home a sanctuary of faith for me.
In creating my sacred space, I put away my action-packed novels that distracted me. You may find that novels don’t detract from the Spirit you feel, but in my circumstances, I knew God wanted me to spend my time on uplifting and talent-building things. So I placed my scriptures on my desk to prioritize scripture study, and I set aside time every day for writing.
Heavenly Father’s goal is to prepare us to live with Him some day. He wants us to feel comfortable in His presence. I have felt more spiritual as He has helped me make one little change in my environment at a time.

In June 1972, Sister Nelson and I decided to take our family on a rafting trip down the Colorado River. We thought it would be fun to be together for a week, and we were told the water level was low, so we believed it would be safe. We had no idea how dangerous the trip would turn out to be!
Our youngest child was only four months old then, so we left him with relatives and went with our nine daughters and one son-in-law. On the second day of the trip, as we started to go over the Horn Creek rapids, we suddenly saw a drop ahead that seemed to be the depth of a several-story building. These precious people in my family were about to drop down a waterfall in a small rubber raft, and I was frightened! By instinct I let go of the rope in the raft and protectively put one arm around my wife and the other around our youngest daughter, Marjorie, who was not quite seven years old.
I was sitting in the back of the raft, and as we hit the rapids, I was thrown into the air. I landed in the water, and each time I tried to reach the surface, I found myself trapped underneath the raft. I was tossed about by the water like an egg in an eggbeater, and I had no air and nearly drowned. My family couldn’t see me, but I could hear them shouting, “Daddy! Daddy! Where’s Daddy?”
I finally came to the surface, and my family was able to drag me, exhausted, out of the water. They were relieved to see me—and I was certainly glad to see them!
The next several days we went over rapids that were much calmer. Then toward the end of the trip, we approached rapids that were much more difficult than any we had previously gone through.
We decided to have a family council, so we stopped the raft by the side of the river. We knew we had to have a plan if we were going to live through this experience. I was so worried about the safety of my family that if there had been a way to end the trip right then, I would have done it. But there was no other way to get to our destination or to return to where we had started.
I said to my family, “The only way we can make it through these rapids is to understand that the raft will make it through no matter what, because it will float. So if we hold on to the rope on the raft with all our strength, we will make it through the rapids. Even if the raft flips over, we will make it.”
I turned to my littlest daughter. “Marjorie,” I told her, “you will need to hold on to your daddy. Get behind me and put your arms around me and hold on tight!”
We went through the terrifying experience of going down those steep, rough rapids where, as we later learned, people had lost their lives in the past—and we made it.
A lesson we all learned from that trip is that we need to learn as much as we can before we begin new experiences. If they are dangerous—even life-threatening, as ours was—we should avoid them if possible. If avoiding a dangerous situation is not possible, we can be sure that we are prepared.
Another lesson we learned is that there is a right way and a wrong way to go through the dangerous rapids of life. The wrong way is to react by instinct and do what immediately comes to mind, like when I let go of the rope and was flipped out of the raft. The right way is for parents to cling to the iron rod of the gospel and for children to cling to their parents and their leadership, like Marjorie clung to me. Then they will all make it through the rough water.
My wife and I have tried to cling to the iron rod of the gospel and have taught our children to cling to us as they, too, learn to hold on to the iron rod. If you will hang on to the gospel and to the counsel of your righteous parents, you will make it through any trouble in life.

My parents did not belong to a church when I was a boy, and they didn’t talk much with me about Jesus Christ. But even as a little child, I always said my prayers. I slept in an upstairs loft on a couple of mattresses. I climbed the stairs, knelt beside the mattresses, and talked with Heavenly Father. Then I rolled into bed. I’m sure I didn’t use hallowed language, but I learned to feel comfortable praying, so that when I heard the missionaries as a teenager, it was an easy thing for me to pray about Joseph Smith and the Book of Mormon, and to ask Heavenly Father if the Church was true.

Martha Cumming was born in Scotland in 1884. She reluctantly attended a meeting of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Edinburgh in 1912, at the invitation of a visiting missionary cousin from America. When those present began to sing, “We Thank Thee, O God, for a Prophet,” she pressed her hands tight to her ears until they had finished.
Working as a domestic servant in a Presbyterian minister’s home in Edinburgh, Martha continued to have occasional contact with the Church. She prayed to be the means of showing them the error of their teachings.
After one meeting with the missionaries, she related, “When I got home that night, I laid there with the lights on pondering the many things pertaining to the gospel, even to the Prophet Joseph. I thought ‘Maybe I am wrong and there is only one way to find out — talk to my Heavenly Father.’ I got out of bed, got on my knees, and prayed. I felt that prayer did not reach further than the ceiling, so I got out of bed again. I felt very humble, so humble and sincere that my prayer was sobbed out — each word. I asked my Heavenly Father if Joseph Smith was really His prophet; I said I didn’t want a sign (as I had known most of my life it was wicked to ask for a sign). I told my Heavenly Father so, but I said, ‘How am I ever going to believe about Joseph Smith unless in your own way, Heavenly Father? Please won’t you tell me. And please forgive me if I am asking wrong’.
“By this time, I was shaking with sobs. I was talking to my Heavenly Father and asking for something that meant so much to me. I got into bed, the light still on, when all at once I heard the most beautiful organ music. Then a choir started to sing — all the parts were sung with the most beautiful voices I had ever heard on this earth. … They sang to me the first song I ever heard in the Mormon meeting in Edinburgh, Scotland when I stopped my ears so I could not hear the few people who were at that meeting singing the song I didn’t want to hear. Yes, it was ‘We Thank Thee, O God, for a Prophet’! That singing went on and on … I lay spellbound listening to every word with tears streaming down my face, my heart and soul rejoicing at every word I heard … Heavenly Father heard me, a humble young woman who earned her living in a minister’s home.”
Taken from the testimony of Martha Hunter Hurry Cumming Clark, as written to her granddaughter Carole Clayton Pulley in 1952. More information can be found at https://ancestors.familysearch.org/en/KWZN-FDZ/martha-hunter-hurry-cumming-1884-1963

Some households, of course, did not have enough girls to do all the spinning and sewing that was necessary for the members of the household, or perhaps the mother was dead, or perhaps she was ill for an extended period. In that event, the custom was to invite a neighbor girl to join the household. Some experienced girls, who were 14, 15, or 16, earned some income by spending time at households—helping with the sewing task. Louisa Chamberlain, who lived in Cedar City in the 1860s, was an example of these. Her mother had fallen in love with another man and left her, an only child, to care for her aged father when she was seven. She fed him, kept him clean, and cheered him when he was downcast—the epitome of the “poor little match girl.” Her father died when she was 13, and from that age, to use her words, she “just lived … wherever I could find work.” A slight, quick-moving girl, she took her spinning wheel with her. When her spinning hours were over, she helped in the kitchen.

It is about two such boys and two good men that I’d like to talk tonight, for they form the central theme of my remarks.
The boys are special young men, like all of you and the men are choice leaders in church and community. I met one of these fathers and his five-year old son just a few days ago. The father told me of a recent conversation with his boy in which he explained that elections are coming soon and that he is being urged to run again for the office of mayor. “Shall I run for mayor?” he said.
“Uh-uh,” said the lad.
“Well,” said the father, “some church leaders are coming to our stake next week and they may ask me to continue to serve as stake president. Shall I say yes if they ask me?”
“Uh-uh,” said the boy.
“What do you want me to do?” the father laughed.
His son said, “I just want a regular dad.”
The other story was equally interesting and significant to me. This family has a tradition of educational accomplishment and the father was shaken a bit when his wife brought him their high school son’s report card with his first C on it. Dad brooded over the matter and when the son came home invited him into the study, sternly confronted him with the card, and said, “Son, what is this I see on your report card?”
“Well, Dad,” replied the boy, “I hope you see the five As.”

Each fast Sunday my wife and I have a family night with all the grandchildren who can come. One night I told them about losing something as a small boy. It was a little thing, but it was very important to me. I looked and searched and hunted and couldn’t find it. Finally I thought, “Well, why not ask Heavenly Father?” I knelt and prayed, and when I opened my eyes, there it was right in front of me.

Nara is also the home of another kind of spirit, a spirit typified by a young group of Latter-day Saints who met on the way home from school at Nara’s Kintetsu train station. Their bishop, Tatsuo Taura of the Nara Ward, Osaka Japan Stake, had invited them to meet him on their way home from school for a walk in the park.
“When I was small, I used to come to the park often with my parents,” said Akie Tanaka, 17. “But now I’m so busy with school I don’t get many chances. When the bishop asked us to come, I thought it sounded fun.”
It’s only a block or two from the train station to the park. As we walked up the hill, the bishop explained that he just wanted to spend a little bit of time with the youth, some time in a relaxed situation, time to become better friends.
“I talk to you all individually during interviews,” Bishop Taura said. “Today let’s just have some fun together.”
He stopped to buy some wafers to feed the deer, then passed the wafers out to the teenagers. As if on cue, the deer trotted over. So many swarmed around Akie that it seemed they were welcoming back an old friend. Overwhelmed, she started giggling and found it hard to stop.
“I wasn’t scared,” she said. “I like deer. But I was holding some food, and they mobbed me to get at it. It was funny to see them all sticking their tongues out at me!”
Akie wasn’t the only one pestered by a persistent deer. One doe kept staring at Seiji Nakanishi even when the food was gone. “Finally she licked my hand, then turned and walked away,” Seiji said. Quickly the herd moved on, although one or two of the animals turned and paused before bounding off into the woods. “It was almost as if they stopped to say good-bye,” said Masatoshi Hirata, 17.
Masatoshi and Seiji, 16, are making friends with Yuji Oki, 15, who was baptized a week ago.
“I’m a deacon,” Yuji said. “I’m proud to be a Latter-day Saint, excited to hold the priesthood. And I’m glad that the others in the ward are my friends. There is strength in associating with other priesthood bearers, a reassurance that God will help us meet our responsibilities.”
As we left the deer behind and headed for a shrine, all three young men were talking about missions—about preparing for them, earning and saving money for them, about seeking the Spirit even now so they would know how to follow it later.
Masatoshi, who is a priest, said, “Soon I will be in the mission field. But right now I have lots of missionary opportunities here. Just think, if everyone in Nara would become a Latter-day Saint, what blessings it would bring! They could strengthen their families, work toward everlasting life, prepare to live together as families forever. Can you see why going to church is my favorite thing?”
We walked far. We saw the reflection of the Kofukuji Pagoda in Sarusawa Pond. We looked at the tombstones, the bright red gates and columns, and the thousands of brass and carved stone lanterns of the Kasuga Shrine. We climbed steep wooden stairs to buildings where samurai warriors used to live. We marveled at the immensity of Buddhist temples and Shinto shrines, which Japanese ancestors built with sincerity and faith. The young Japanese Saints talked again about their own faith, their own hope for the future.
“There’s a girl with us today who is not a member,” Akie explained. “It’s the first time I have met her. I’d love to tell her about my experiences with the gospel—good things, testimonies that people bear. I wish I could tell her all about these things. I wish I could tell everyone.” And a few minutes later, Akie was talking with Satomi Fujioka, 18, the new girl in the group. They were laughing, telling stories, and fast becoming friends. And becoming friends, as Akie will tell you, is the first step toward sharing anything.
Yuji stopped for a minute and sat on a bench to rest. Our loop through the park was complete, and it was time to head back to the train station. But first we all decided to drink a carton of mandarin orange juice to cool off after our hike.
“You know,” said Yuji, looking back at the enormous wooden gate that is merely the entrance to the more enormous Todaiji Temple, “perhaps someday there will be as many Mormon temples as there are shrines in Japan. It’s exciting to know I can play some small part in spreading the gospel in this land.”
Seiji nodded his head in agreement. “There are many monuments here,” he said, “many treasures. But the gospel is a bigger treasure. After all, it is the most important thing in my life.”
Mariko Tange, 18, a Laurel who joined the Church just four months ago, also nodded her head. “I get so busy I forget sometimes how important the Church really is,” she said. “I’m really glad we came here today.”
There was less conversation on the way back to the station than there had been on the way to the park. Maybe we were just tired. Maybe we were all talked out. But it seemed more like we were thinking, thinking about the spirit that unites us as members of the Church. That spirit will grow in the hearts of the Saints in Nara, the same way it grows in the hearts of Saints everywhere. It is a spirit that makes all men noble, a spirit that makes all men free. And as it is shared with friends, families, and neighbors, the Nara said to be “home of Japanese spirit” may also become known as a place where the Spirit of God is at home.

It was a fine fall day with the sun bright and the air crisp. Bear Cub was happy as he walked through the golden woods.
“Ho, Bear Cub!” cried a small voice.
Bear Cub looked down. He saw Chipmunk carrying a large pile of seeds and nuts. “Do you need help, Chipmunk?”
“Yes, thank you.” Chipmunk divided the pile in two. “I’m taking food to my home to store for the winter. It will be coming soon.”
“Winter is coming?” asked Bear Cub. “I’ve never lived through a winter. What will it be like, Chipmunk?”
“Winter? Why winter will be …” Chipmunk stopped walking and tapped his foot as he thought. “Winter will be … Hmmmm …” Chipmunk started walking again. “Come to think of it, I spend winter underground, so I don’t know too much about it.”
They stopped beside a stone wall where there was a small hole in the ground at its base. Chipmunk ran into the hole with his load of seeds and nuts, then popped out again. “Thanks for helping, Bear Cub. About winter—I hear that it gets mighty cold and that food is hard to find.” Chipmunk took the pile of food from Bear Cub and popped into the hole again.
Bear Cub saw a bird pulling up a worm. “Hello, Robin. Do you know what winter will be like?”
Robin swallowed the worm. “I don’t stay here for the winter, Bear Cub. I fly south where the weather is warm and where food is plentiful.” Robin grabbed another worm and ate it. “I can’t stay to chat, Bear Cub. I must eat lots of worms before I fly south.”
Bear Cub heard a digging sound. He followed the noise to a small hole in the ground. “Hello!” Bear Cub yelled down the hole.
A brown head with a long nose popped up. “Yo, Bear Cub! Did you come to watch me dig?”
“Is this a new tunnel, Mole?”
“Yes, Bear Cub. It’s a deeper tunnel. With winter coming, I must go deeper to keep warm.” Then Mole popped back into his tunnel.
“What will winter be like, Mole?” Bear Cub called down the tunnel.
Mole popped his head out again. “Winter will be cold.”
“And will food be hard to find?” asked Bear Cub.
“No, there’s plenty of food. I get all the worms and insects I need in my tunnel. I have to get back to digging now. Why don’t you talk to Beaver? He can tell you more about winter.”
Bear Cub found Beaver cutting up a tree limb with his sharp teeth. “What will winter be like, Beaver? I’ve heard that it’s cold and that food is hard to find.”
“Not for me,” said Beaver. “I stay warm in my lodge during the winter, and I eat the sticks that I’ve gathered and stored there.” Beaver cut another limb to size. “I don’t see that much of winter, Bear Cub. You should ask Deer. She stays above ground all winter long.”
When Bear Cub asked Deer about winter, her soft brown eyes became sad.
“Winter is short, gray days when snow covers the grass and leaves. Winter is long, dark nights huddled against the wind. Winter is always looking for food and shelter.”
Now Bear Cub was worried. What would he eat in winter? He didn’t have a tunnel in which to store his food. How would he stay warm in winter? He didn’t have a beaver lodge to keep out the cold. He couldn’t fly away like Robin. Would he be like Deer, without food or shelter? He had to find his mother. She would know what to do.
When Bear Cub asked Mama Bear about winter, she wrapped her arms around him. “Don’t worry about winter,” she said. “We will eat so much food that we will not get hungry. We will spend winter in a cave. We will be warm because our fur will be thick. We will sleep through most of the long, dark nights and the short, gray days. And when we wake up, it will be spring!”
Bear Cub was no longer afraid. He looked forward to spending the winter snuggled against Mama Bear. “Now I know what winter will be like, Mama,” said Bear Cub. “Winter will be wonderful!”

While serving in Santiago, Chile, as a mission leader with my husband, who was a mission president from 2012 to 2015, I learned some life-changing lessons about the reality of miracles and how they come about. Accepting this calling put me way out of my comfort zone because of my inability to speak the language of our mission. I initially felt overwhelming inadequacy.
Early in the mission, a call from a family member helped me realize that I was focusing way too much on myself and my struggles. Remembering the advice that President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008) shared from his father to “forget yourself and go to work,”1 I decided to change my focus. Whenever I was feeling discouraged, I would ask myself, “Whom are you thinking about?” The answer was always me. So I would repent and turn my thoughts outward instead. I chose to focus on the missionaries, those they were teaching, or my family.
I also tried to remember what I could do, not focus on what I couldn’t do. I could smile, give hugs, and get to work learning Spanish, even though that meant frequent failure. I went out with the sister missionaries often (rather than hide away in the mission home where it was safe), even when I felt like there wasn’t much I could add.
As long as I was willing to keep taking little steps of faith, I felt the strengthening power of Christ through His atoning sacrifice helping me to overcome my weaknesses (see Jacob 4:7). As I pondered over the experiences I was having, I recognized a similar pattern in the lives of my favorite people in the scriptures. Here is my journal entry from October 2014:
“Examples from scripture of people choosing to step out of their comfort zone are many—such as Mary the mother of Jesus, Ruth, Esther, Paul, Enoch, Lehi and Nephi, Alma, Ammon and his brothers, Samuel, Abinadi, the 2,000 stripling young Lamanites, Joseph Smith, and many others. These all embraced opportunities that made them vulnerable. They could not predict or control the outcome of their circumstances. They were placed in situations far beyond their comfort zones of familiarity, and the risk of danger, pain, suffering, rejection, and failure were all possible, creating a need to be rescued by the Spirit and gifts from God.
“The natural man [see Mosiah 3:19] wants certainty, security, and control, but I have learned that that is not generally the threshold in which God works His miracles. My experience here has taught me that when people choose to limit what they can and will do, based on what they are comfortable with or to avoid failure, they limit what God can do with them. He seems to work His miracles with us more often when we have made ourselves vulnerable [to His will], when we are willing to step out into the unknown … and lean more completely on our faith in Him and not in our own abilities. I have learned that if I am more concerned with the learning, growing, and becoming process than with risking failure, I open myself to the strengthening power that Jesus Christ’s Atonement offers me.”
Divine Discontent
“Of course, all of us will fall short of our divine potential, and there is some truth in the realization that alone we are not enough. But the good news of the gospel is that with the grace of God, we are enough. With Christ’s help, we can do all things. The scriptures promise that we will “find grace to help in time of need” [Hebrews 4:16].
“The surprising truth is that our weaknesses can be a blessing when they humble us and turn us to Christ. Discontent becomes divine when we humbly approach Jesus Christ with our want, rather than hold back in self-pity. …
“Have you ever felt your talents and gifts were too small for the task ahead? I have. But you and I can give what we have to Christ, and He will multiply our efforts. What you have to offer is more than enough—even with your human frailties and weaknesses—if you rely on the grace of God.
“The truth is that each of us is one generation away from Deity—each is a child of God.”
Michelle D. Craig, “Divine Discontent,” Liahona, Nov. 2018, 54.
One experience that helped me learn this lesson took place when Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles visited our mission, together with the three other missions in Santiago. There were over 1,000 missionaries gathered in our chapel where my husband had been asked to conduct the meeting. Elder Holland entered the chapel, took the seat next to my husband, leaned over to us, and said, “Okay, here’s what we are going to do. Sister Wright, you will speak first and represent all of the mission presidents’ wives here. Then President Wright will follow.”
I honestly didn’t hear the rest of the agenda. It had never occurred to me that Elder Holland would ask me to speak, so I had made no preparations. I prefer time to prepare to speak, time to gather my thoughts a little at least, but I would be speaking immediately after the opening hymn and prayer.
As my thoughts began to swirl, I felt the sudden desire to share my message in Spanish. However, though we were a year into the mission, and I had worked very hard to learn Spanish, I was still struggling with the language, and I was definitely not fluent in it. The translator was available to me if I spoke in English, but this was a Spanish-speaking mission, and I really wanted to speak in Spanish. Speaking would be a hard thing for me to do in English; speaking in Spanish felt like a giant leap. So amid the sound of 1,000 missionaries singing “Called to Serve” (Hymns, 249), I took a deep breath, confessed my inadequacies to my Father in Heaven, and pled for help to be rescued by the Spirit.
I told Heavenly Father that I had no idea what to say or how to say it in Spanish, but I promised Him that I would open my mouth and do my best, having faith that He would fill it (see Moses 6:32). In that moment, I felt a peaceful assurance come over me. After the prayer I rose to the pulpit and began to speak. Words I had pondered before came back in that needed moment, even in the foreign language I was struggling to communicate in. I sat down after my short three-minute talk, still feeling at peace but unsure about how effectively I had communicated.
After the meeting, the brother who had translated for Elder Holland approached me and said, “Sister Wright, I had no idea you spoke Spanish so well!” I replied, “I don’t.” He assured me that I hadn’t made any mistakes.
I am sure that none of those missionaries remembers anything about my short message that day. But for me it was a life-changing experience. I learned to put my trust in Heavenly Father and the Savior, that They could and would strengthen me despite my weaknesses when I was willing to take a leap of faith. If I had chosen the safe route and used the translator, I might never have learned how They rescue us when we open ourselves to letting God prevail.2
I have always loved this portion of the definition of “Grace” in the Bible Dictionary: “It is … through the grace of the Lord that individuals, through faith in the Atonement of Jesus Christ and repentance of their sins, receive strength and assistance to do good works that they otherwise would not be able to maintain if left to their own means.”
I felt His grace that day. Taking that leap of faith gave me the courage to leap out of my comfort zone again and again in the future. Failure will always be a part of the learning process, and I experienced plenty of that with the language for the rest of my mission. But when it mattered most, I felt Jesus Christ’s support and strength lift me above my natural abilities so that I could be the instrument in His hands that He needed me to be to bless others. My faith and trust in Him have grown exponentially, which is the greatest gift I took home from our mission. By the time we came home, I was able to speak Spanish fluently, and I am now able to use it to serve others as a volunteer in my community and in the Spanish branch where we currently attend church.
I have a testimony that “if men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness. I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them” (Ether 12:27).

One young woman wrote about the lessons she has learned in her struggle to recover from an automobile accident in which she received severe head injuries.
“I didn’t know how strong I was until the spring of 1996. The incidents of one afternoon completely changed my expectations of how my education would proceed. One minute I was on a path to my future, much like every other high school student. The next minute life was no longer ordinary for me. I was on my way to strengthening myself in ways I would never have guessed. … I was on a road to relearning instead of learning. … I relearned how to eat; swallowing the food in my mouth was a hard task that I had to relearn. I went from the bed to a wheelchair to standing and walking in over a five-month period. … I have learned many great truths from my diverse trials this past year. Prayers are really answered. Fasting is a power in my family. Love has kept me alive. … I have learned what I can tolerate. … Throughout all of this I have learned that I am a lot stronger than I thought. I have learned that if you need help, it is OK to ask for it; we all have our limits, strengths, and weaknesses. … All knowledge … is ‘spendable currency’ for me. Like a baby bird broken from its shell, I am learning to fly again” (letter from Elizabeth Merkley).

We are friends with a family who goes to another church. I asked my mom if we could give them a Book of Mormon. I gave it to their mom and asked if she would read it. She said yes. A few weeks later, she had read half of it! A few months later, I fasted that they would come to church with us. They did come to church! I know Heavenly Father answers our prayers, and I love being a missionary!
Logan A., age 6, Iowa, USA