Gospel Story Finder

I was the type of person who always wanted miracles to prove things to me. I couldn’t really believe in something until it was proven by some earth-shaking event. I had been born and raised in the Church. I went to Mutual and camp, I knew the Young Women motto by heart, and I served as a Beehive class officer. Still, I never really knew the Church was true.
People always talked about burning feelings, warm feelings, peaceful feelings, and wonderful feelings. Me, I had no feelings. When I said my prayers every night I did the routine: “Thanks for Mom, Dad, and all my blessings. Help me to have a good day and do right.” You could say that I was “leaning” on my parents’ testimonies.
I finally decided that I wanted to know for myself. Every night I prayed for about five minutes, begging God to send me a miracle. I used tears, bribery, and I even threatened that I wouldn’t be righteous. I promised God that if he sent me just one little visitation from a holy being I would be a true believer. Of course, I was going about it all wrong, but I didn’t know that.
Finally after receiving no visits from Moroni, or anyone else for that matter, a new thought hit me—faith. I had always assumed that I deserved a miraculous vision just like Joseph Smith’s. It never occurred to me that God expected me to have faith. This was a hard concept for me to accept.
I wanted so badly to know with blinding certainty about the Church. Yet I was beginning to realize that God could not bless me with a testimony if I did not exercise faith in him. Now I’m a little lighter on miracles, and I’m coming to understand what a true testimony is. I’ve learned that faith is things that are hoped for and not seen (see Heb. 11:1).

David Eves discovered firsthand how quickly life can change when, on September 20, 1997, he and his friends went four-wheeling at Kolob Canyon in southern Utah.
“We’d been driving all day when we hit a bump and lost control,” says David. “I remember flying through the air, then waking up in excruciating pain. When I saw my friends looking down at me and told them I couldn’t feel my legs, I knew I would never be the same.”
After being life-flighted to LDS Hospital in Salt Lake City and undergoing eight hours of surgery to stop internal bleeding and to secure two titanium rods in his back, David spent the next three months fighting for his life.
An avid football, basketball, and track star, David, of the LaVerkin Second Ward, LaVerkin Utah Stake, was no stranger to pain, but soon he was faced with a new challenge: he couldn’t hold his food down or speak. His body weight dropped from 170 to 100 pounds over a two-month period.
The days and nights grew longer. “I wanted to get off the morphine, but the pain was unbearable,” David recalls. “I asked my dad to read to me from the Book of Mormon, and as he did a miracle happened. The spirit of that book brought so much peace, I was able to rest.”
But David was not improving. Jill Eves became alarmed at her son’s severe weight loss and, pleading with the Lord for inspiration, knew a specialist must be called immediately. Sure enough, the doctor discovered and repaired a hole in David’s esophagus, and David came home two weeks later.
His father, Raymond, had taught him two important secrets to obtaining goals: give it your all and never quit. David was used to giving his all, so it was no surprise when he was back at school the following Monday.
“Looking like an alien with my body cast and neck brace, I could see how different I was. I had absolute faith I would get better, but soon realized I was completely unlike the other 800 kids in my school. After that first hard week, though, I knew I could do anything I wanted; I just had to find a different way.”
When his brother suggested he run for student body president a few months later, David again gave it his all. “Vote for someone with skills and wheels!” posters lined the school halls, and soon David went from jock to school leader. “That year was awesome,” he says. “I felt it was the perfect preparation for my mission.”
Nothing made David’s therapy more important than his determination to serve a mission. Although some of his friends said serving a mission wasn’t necessary, since he was in a wheelchair, David didn’t buy it. “I knew the Lord wanted me to serve, so I decided I would do everything in my power to make that possible.”
Before long, he could shower and dress himself, drive his car, and negotiate his way anywhere. In fact, after his doctor said it was impossible, David learned to strap on a brace he calls his exoskeleton and walk, using crutches extending from his hands, by moving his shoulders to push his body forward. With no sense of balance or ability to feel the ground under him, this is an incredible feat—one for which the students and parents honored him with a standing ovation at high school graduation exercises.
After graduation David couldn’t wait to turn 19 and send in his mission papers. His doctor attached a note verifying he was totally independent.
But it was not to be. Instead of a calling, David’s letter informed him he could not serve a full-time proselyting mission.
“When I heard this, I was crushed,” remembers David. “I had worked so hard, and it seemed it was all taken away from me in just a matter of seconds.” Even though David had given it his best, he felt strongly he must continue to pursue a mission. An interview was arranged with Elder David B. Haight of the Quorum of the Twelve, who lovingly assured David there was a mission for him.
One week later he was called to serve a welfare mission at the Deseret Industries (D.I.) in St. George. Nothing had prepared him for such a call. “To tell the truth, I was disappointed.” But he kept hearing these words to the song, “I will go, I will do,” run through his head and knew the Lord wanted him there.
“I look back now and think how foolish I was. I had no clue what a blessing this mission would be,” David says.
Not only has David been blessed, but his sense of humor and positive attitude touched each of the 250-plus people whose lives have been uplifted and changed through D.I.’s self-sufficiency and missionary programs. “Whenever we were having a bad day, we’d just come and find Elder Eves,” says Debbie Kelly, a trainee. “When we saw how happy and positive he was, even in a wheelchair, we’d ask, ‘What are we complaining about?’”
While serving his mission, Elder Eves spent mornings tutoring trainees working on their high school and G.E.D. certificates. “He helped me so much,” says Brandy, a single mom working to learn the skills necessary for upgraded employment. “I couldn’t have passed my math section without him.”
But to David, tutoring wasn’t just about teaching educational skills. He loved his students. “They don’t care how much you know until they know how much you care,” he says. The relationships he developed with his students reached higher levels, like teaching the six missionary discussions to Rita Roberts, another trainee.
“He helped me understand the gospel step by step, because I’m a slow learner,” Rita says. “And I knew I could count on him for anything. He and his family helped me move twice. You couldn’t get a better person—not just in the classroom, but everywhere. He’s cool and unique.”
Besides tutoring staff members, David was responsible for many devotionals at the D.I.
“One day it was Elder Eves’s turn to give the devotional. Everyone was there but him. In a few minutes, in he came, walking with his braces. There wasn’t a dry eye in the room as he talked to us about overcoming adversity and working with your hand in God’s to accomplish any goal,” says Sister Scott, a welfare missionary at D.I.
While David loved serving at D.I., his missionary efforts didn’t stop there. In the evenings, he went team teaching with the full-time missionaries, resulting in several baptisms, one where he was asked to perform the baptism.
“I figured if she had enough faith to ask me to baptize her, I had enough faith to find a way to do it,” remembers Elder Eves. And so on January 1, 2000, being strapped in his shower chair, Elder Eves said the baptismal prayer and lowered Robin Rasmussen into the water. No one will ever forget the spirit present that day.
David brings a feeling of hope and peace everywhere he goes. But it’s his great sense of humor that endears him to everyone he meets. “I learned early on that if others see me joking about being paralyzed, they are more comfortable around me. When they realize I’m happy because of the gospel and my many blessings, the whole wheelchair thing disappears and they see me as a person.”
And counting blessings is what Elder Eves concentrates on. “The one thing my mission taught me more than anything else is how blessed I am. When I saw the problems some of these people at work deal with, my heart went out to them and I wondered if I could do what they do. I have a family who loves me, I have the gospel, and I have had the opportunity to serve the Lord on a mission. I couldn’t ask for more,” he says.
David is currently attending Dixie State College on a full scholarship and exercising on his bike and braces. “I work out in those leg braces every day to keep my legs stretched, so that when I do walk again I’ll be ready,” he says, with the same fervor with which he bears his testimony.
“I love the scripture in Doctrine and Covenants 121:7–8: ‘My son, peace be unto thy soul; thine adversity and thine afflictions shall be but a small moment; And then, if thou endure it well, God shall exalt thee on high.’ I know Joseph Smith was the prophet of the Restoration and that Jesus Christ is our Savior and loves each of us. Sometimes when we’re going through hard times, it seems like we’re alone, but we’re really not. He’s right there with us. And with this knowledge, everything else falls into place.”

While at the hospital where they took my daughter Natalie (who had already passed), I was in a state of shock. I was completely numb, physically and mentally. Things were happening around me that I could see but not feel: police asking questions, friends crying, medical staff informing. It’s all a blur yet perfectly clear.
My former bishop and his wife were there. A colleague of mine had called them. My daughter, Natalie, and I had moved from their ward only a few months prior. My bishop and his wife were beloved friends of ours.
The bishop’s wife, also named Natalie, said I would be staying with them. The next thing I knew, I was in their vehicle riding back to my old neighborhood. I had no comprehension of time passing, yet I was aware it was dawn of the next day when I received a priesthood blessing from the bishop and a friend.
I was kept in the loop with all of the funeral arrangements, yet I was unaware of all the details. I would get dressed when I was told to get dressed. I would get in the car when I was told we had somewhere to go. I was a robot following simple commands. That was all I was capable of doing. Surprisingly, I had not yet shed a tear.
My daughter’s funeral was beautiful. There was a lot of laughter mixed with tears, and the Spirit was very much present. My oldest daughter, Victoria, traveled back to Utah from another state. She wrote a song and performed it at the funeral.
I was never approached about the funeral costs except to be informed it was being handled. Within a few weeks the funeral had been paid in full by donations from Church members.
At the time, I was still staying with my former bishop’s family. Members from my previous ward were looking for a new place for me to live. A cute little basement apartment became available, and the next thing I knew, I was signing a lease. This did not happen by my own doing. It was the actions of a network of Church members, including my dear friend Natalie, the bishop’s wife.
Ward members helped move my personal effects and got me and Victoria settled in. The first two months’ rent had been paid in advance—again, by Church member donations. I still had no perception of time, and I was still emotionally numb to a certain degree, yet I was starting to get feeling back.
A few weeks after my daughter’s death, the realization and magnitude of what had happened started to creep in. It was like heavy, thick black smoke seeping in at first, followed by all-consuming billows until I was surrounded by complete darkness. Grief in its rawest has its own dimension of blackness.
Natalie had died on Thanksgiving Day. It was now Christmas. The holidays only magnified my loss. The agony lingered throughout the day and tormented me throughout the night. It was relentless. The tears poured endlessly for days. Minutes passed like hours. Hours passed like days. Days passed like years.
As a divorced woman, I did not have a husband who could go out and earn a living. If I could have, I would have curled up in a ball, locked myself in a closet, and remained there forever. But I didn’t have that luxury. I had to somehow gather the strength to function. I had to find a job. I was working when Thanksgiving Day happened, but somehow in all the chaos, I had forgotten about my job. I could have gone back to it, but my Natalie loved to hang out there, and the thought of going back without her was unbearable.
By the first week of January, I had gotten a low-paying job. I tried to act like I was normal. My body kept going, but I felt like my soul had died. No one knew I was a hollow shell of a being just going through the motions. It was only during the drive to and from work that I was able to break down emotionally. This was my new normal.
I started going to my new ward a little at a time. I just knew if someone asked me how I was doing, I would fall to pieces. I desperately wanted to go to church, but I didn’t want to talk to anyone, much less make eye contact. I wished with all my heart that I could be invisible. More than anything, I just wanted to rip this all-consuming pain out of my chest!
I have no idea what the sisters in Relief Society thought of me, and at the time I didn’t much care. I was too busy just trying to breathe! I’m sure I gave off the impression that I wanted to be left alone, for none of them bothered me. They did, however, occasionally give me a warm smile that I found a little comforting—just the exact small dose to keep me from running out the nearest exit, which was a constant thought.
Time is a healer. It doesn’t erase events, but it allows gaping wounds to slowly close.
That fateful Thanksgiving Day was in 2011, and it took me a few years to realize just how much I was helped by my brothers and sisters in the Church. I felt like I was carried off the battlefield after having been critically wounded. I was nursed back to health and cared for until I could stand on my own.
Countless blessings have come my way, in a variety of ways. My testimony has grown to near full maturity. I know now what it feels like to be held in the loving arms of our Savior.
So to answer my friend’s question, “How did the Church help you through this ordeal?” I say, “They didn’t help me. They saved me.”

Several years ago, when I lived in North Logan, Utah, I had the wonderful opportunity of serving as a home teacher to a John and Ruth Jenkins, who at the time were well into their retirement years. I learned far more from this wonderful couple than they ever did from me.

Sister Jenkins served faithfully for years after Brother Jenkins passed away. Because of her self-reliance, an attentive family, and caring neighbors, she lived humbly and happily. The time came when she was released from a Church calling and not given a new calling. She was somewhat distraught over “not having a way to serve.” She sought counsel from her son. He wisely advised her that she could still provide important and much-needed service to others by seeking the promptings of the Lord as to who, on any particular day, could benefit from her visit.

Sister Jenkins followed her son’s counsel. Each morning after rising, she studied her scriptures and then knelt in prayer to seek the inspiration of the Lord as to who might benefit from her help that day. Promptings always came, and acts of kindness followed. Both at her funeral and during months that followed, person after person bore witness of how Sister Jenkins appeared unexpectedly—in storms of winter or in heat of summer—and provided kind service. Brothers and sisters, I testify that if we learn to be sensitive to the needs of others and if we pray for a discerning spirit, the Lord will lead us to those who need our help, our love, and our acts of kindness. When the promptings come, will we hear? Will we respond? Will additional yellow marks—signifying kind acts—continue to appear on our touchstones?

To begin, I would like to share a story about a time in my life when my faith in the Lord and my faith in myself were tested—and ultimately strengthened—as I felt Him by my side.

On a Sunday evening in November 2020, my husband and I were having our regular planning session for the coming week and reviewing our schedules to make sure we were on top of things. At the time, our three children’s ages were two and a half years, eighteen months, and almost six months. We had three babies under three, both my husband and I worked full-time, my husband served in our ward’s bishopric, and both of us were involved in many other community and family activities. All that definitely made for a hectic schedule!

As we talked, we recognized that it was going to be a busy week. But with joint resolve to make our gospel study more of a priority amidst the busyness of our schedules, we decided to start waking up a half hour earlier than our babies so we could begin our days with gospel study instead of trying to fit it in somewhere else.

The next morning, Monday, November 16, we did just that. It was a peaceful morning filled with the Spirit. As I read that week’s Come, Follow Me assignment in Ether 6 about the Jaredites boarding their barges and commending themselves unto the Lord with the hope of reaching the promised land,2 I had some very specific impressions that I felt I needed to record. I am grateful for the Gospel Library app, which makes recording thoughts and promptings so easy!

My study that morning felt especially powerful for some reason, and I was grateful I had the prompting to record my thoughts. I am a firm believer in the power of recording experiences when we feel the Spirit teaching us, and in this case it would prove especially meaningful in my life.

As my husband, Tom, and I were finishing our study, we heard our sweet babies starting to stir. Our oldest two, Isaac and Zoey, shared a room, and Benny, our youngest, was sleeping in the nursery. Being a little older—and anyone with toddlers can attest to this—Isaac and Zoey had a tendency to get much louder much quicker if we didn’t go get them right away when they woke up, so we went to their room first. We got them dressed, as we normally did, and then I ­finished getting them ready while Tom went to get Benny. A few seconds later, every parent’s worst nightmare became our reality. Benny had stopped breathing as he slept. Despite our most desperate prayers and the heroic efforts of first responders, our angel boy unexpectedly and tragically passed away from sudden infant death syndrome (SIDS).

Over the course of the next few days, I recognized that this was an experience where the rubber met the road with my faith. Did I really believe that what I had been teaching my children was true, that families are forever? Did I believe that the Lord could sustain us through what felt like an insurmountable trial and somehow make it be “for [our] good”?3 Did I believe that I could trust the Lord to comfort me in my pain and to wipe away this brokenhearted mother’s tears?4

I did—and I do. In some ways I know it, and in all ways I believe it. This experience strengthened my faith in the Lord in every way and reminded me of the importance of having faith in Him throughout our lives. Because when we do, He “will not leave [us] comfortless.”5 Through Him, we will find “peace . . . which passeth all understanding.”6

That first night after Benny had passed away was without question the darkest night of my life. I couldn’t sleep, so to avoid disturbing my husband, I went out to our family room. I turned on every light in the house because I was afraid that if I didn’t, the darkness would overtake me. I tried everything I could think of to calm my heart, and then I turned to my scriptures, because I knew they always brought me peace and light—and I desperately needed both in those dark moments. I opened up the Gospel Library app, and there, staring back at me from the screen, was not only the story of the Jaredites again7 but also my own thoughts on having faith in and trusting the Lord when times got hard. I would like to share some of those thoughts with you now, thoughts that I had recorded before my world turned upside down but that I now realize were a tender mercy from the Lord to one of His daughters who would soon be in need:

From Ether 6, verse 3: “The Lord doesn’t want us to live in darkness and will do His part to help us live in light, but we have to have faith in Him and do our part.”
From verse 4: “Sometimes I feel like we have to do this in our lives: just commend ourselves to the Lord and take a big leap of faith! It’s reassuring to read scriptural examples of people who did just that.”
From verse 7: “The vessels were so well built that the water couldn’t penetrate them. That didn’t stop the storms, but it did protect the people. We will face rough waters in our lives, but we can build our testimonies such that outside forces can’t penetrate them. It’s up to us.”
From verse 8: “The Lord knew what He was doing. Even though He was sending winds, those winds were getting the people to the promised land. In our lives, trials may seem difficult and sometimes we feel like we’re going to drown, but if we trust the Lord, everything will keep pushing us to where He needs and wants us to be.”
From verses 9 and 10: “I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the verse about how they couldn’t be broken and how they had light comes after the scripture about how they praised the Lord always. Gratitude is such a game changer!”

Now, none of this was groundbreaking. But reading these thoughts again with the perspective I now had of losing our angel son, I was amazed to think that the Lord loved me so much that He would have the Holy Ghost inspire me to write down thoughts that just moments later would take on new meaning in my life and be an anchor for my faith that I would need in the coming days and months.

Two days later, Tom and I went to purchase a burial outfit for Benny. As we were standing at the register to pay, I noticed the return-policy sign behind the desk. Tears immediately started flowing as I realized that the return policy didn’t apply to us because this tiny white outfit would be going into the ground to be buried with our son. Not a second later, though, the hymn “Be Still, My Soul” came over the speakers—talk about a tender mercy! The second verse particularly spoke to my heart: “Be still, my soul: Thy God doth undertake To guide the future as he has the past.”8 I then had this flash moment when I was able to look back on my life and see instance after instance in which the Lord had been there for me and had carried me through. I knew I could trust and have faith that, as this song said, He would undertake to guide my future as He had always guided my past. I could have faith in Him moving forward because I had had so many experiences with Him before. I knew who He was, and I knew that He loved me and was aware of me. Because of that, I knew I could trust Him. My faith was based on who He was, not on who I expected Him to be or even who I thought I needed Him to be as I went through that particular experience.

Looking back, I realize I have had many moments—including the days and weeks after Benny passed away—that I liken to my own walks along the road to Emmaus.9 Just as those disciples later realized that the Lord had been walking with them, I am confident the Lord has always been by my side, even though at times I might not have seen Him—whether that was because I wasn’t looking or because I was expecting something different. I am also grateful that, like those disciples, eventually my eyes have been opened and I have been able to recognize the miracles He has provided along the way. In fact, once I started looking for the wonders the Lord was working in the days and weeks after Benny had passed away, I was simply amazed. There were so many miracles that I started capturing them in an online journal—walkswithbenny.com—because I didn’t ever want to forget how good the Lord was to us. Every miracle brought us closer to Him, and I love looking back on those miracles now; they continue to strengthen my faith in the Lord and in His love.

“Ethan,” Dad called, “stay here on the path next to me.”
Five-year-old Ethan frowned. He loved hiking with Dad, but he didn’t want to stay on the boring old trail. There was much more to see alongside the stream.
“Come here,” Dad called again. “You might stumble and fall in those tall weeds.”
Obediently, Ethan bounded toward Dad. But as he walked, his eyes kept wandering off the trail. It wasn’t long before he saw a fallen tree and scampered toward it. Climbing on top of it he cried, “Look at me, Dad!”
Dad shook his head. “Didn’t I tell you to stay on the trail?” Ethan groaned and shuffled back toward Dad.
As they hiked, they soon came to a section of the stream lined by large boulders. Each rock looked as if it had been carefully stacked in place to hold back the soil. Ethan pointed. “Look, Dad!”
Dad nodded. “Interesting rock formation, isn’t it? I guess it wouldn’t hurt to have a look.”
Grinning, Ethan bolted toward the stream and leaped onto a boulder. Dad followed. Ethan hopped from boulder to boulder, as if playing hopscotch, until he was standing on the highest one. He watched the stream swirl and cascade over rocks below, enjoying the sight—until he heard a terrible sound.
Hiss, rattle, rattle, rattle.
There, wedged between two rocks near Ethan’s feet, was a rattlesnake.
“Daddy!” Ethan cried.
Dad was on the other side of the rattlesnake and couldn’t reach Ethan to help him. “Don’t move!” he yelled.
Ethan trembled. The only way back to the trail was to hop down the rocks the way he had come, and he was afraid that the snake could move much faster than he could. What if he startled the snake and it struck him? The snake glared at him, flicking its tongue.
“Jump in the stream,” a voice spoke to his mind. Still watching the snake, he thought about the cold, muddy water and the jagged rocks below. “Jump in the stream!” the voice said again. So Ethan took a flying leap off the boulder and landed with a splash. Dad jumped in right after him, scooped him up, and helped him to shore. Ethan hugged Dad tight, his heart pounding.
“I wanted to tell you to jump, but I didn’t dare because I thought you might get hurt,” Dad said. “I’m so glad you’re safe.”
“The Holy Ghost told me to jump,” Ethan said. “At first I didn’t listen, but then He told me again.”
“Obeying those promptings saved your life, son.” Dad looked at Ethan thoughtfully. “If I had listened to the Holy Ghost in the first place, we wouldn’t have been in danger.”
“What do you mean, Dad?”
“As we walked away from the trail, I saw something move in the grass,” Dad said. “I thought it was a mouse or a chipmunk. Suddenly, I remembered a story I read in the newspaper a few days ago about a man who recently died from a rattlesnake bite. The thought didn’t make sense to me, so I ignored it. If I had been listening, I would have recognized that the Spirit was trying to warn me.”
Ethan hugged Dad tighter, shivering to think what could have happened. “We should have stayed on the trail,” he murmured. “It’s safer.”
Dad nodded. “That’s true in life too. Even when we can’t see danger, Heavenly Father knows where the devil is lying in wait to corner us. The only safe way is to stay on the marked path.”
Ethan silently vowed to always obey. As he followed his parents, the prophets, and the Holy Ghost, he’d be safe from the worst serpent of all.

Once I was awakened by a call from an anxious mother. Her premature child was not expected to survive the night. She asked for a priesthood blessing. As I approached the suffering child, the mother stopped me, looked into my eyes, and asked, “Are you worthy to bless my child?” That was an appropriate question. One never feels completely worthy, but we must do our best to be so. There came a strong prompting to bless the child to recover. The worthy mother continued professional treatment and exercised her faith. The Lord responded with the additional blessing needed. And the child recovered.

One night five-year-old Jenna sat on the living room floor, combing her doll’s hair. Her dad sat in his chair, reading the newspaper. When Jenna looked up, she saw a picture in the newspaper of a girl about her own age. The girl had curly black hair, her face was smudged with dirt, and her clothes were torn. The girl looked very sad.
“Why does that girl in the newspaper look so sad, Daddy?” Jenna asked as she pointed at the picture.
“Well,” said Dad, “let’s read the story about her. She lives far away in a country where the people are fighting a war. Because of the fighting, she and her family had to leave their home and are looking for a new place to live. Many of the people there don’t have shoes or clean clothes or even enough food to eat.”
“That would make me sad, too,” said Jenna. She sat staring at the picture for a long time. Then she quietly went to her closet and pulled out her suitcase, opened it, and started to put things inside: a pair of shoes, a can of soup, a toothbrush and toothpaste, a storybook, and a pretty blue dress. Jenna carefully looked over her many dolls and chose one she thought that the girl in the picture might like. Then she wrapped the doll in a pink baby blanket and tucked it inside too.
After she closed and latched the suitcase, she pushed and pulled it until she reached her dad. As she stopped in front of him, he peeked over the edge of the newspaper. “Are you going someplace, Jenna?”
“No, Daddy,” she replied. “We need to send these things to the girl in the newspaper. I put in some food and shoes, a book, and even one of my dolls. Let’s send it tonight so the girl won’t be sad for even one more day!”
Dad put down the paper, picked Jenna up, and gave her a great big hug. Then he said, “Oh, Jenna, I’m proud of you for being so willing to help. But I don’t know where to send your suitcase of wonderful gifts. I don’t know this girl’s name, and she doesn’t have a home, so I don’t know how to find her.”
Now it was Jenna who was sad. She sat very still, thinking about what her dad had said.
Then Dad had an idea. “We could take your gifts to the homeless shelter. I’m sure some little girl right here in our town would appreciate them too. What do you think?”
Jenna thought about what her dad had told her. “OK, Daddy. But I still wish I could help the girl in the newspaper.”
Later that night, when Jenna was ready to go to bed, she picked up her doll and said, “I know something I can do for that sad girl tonight. I can pray for her.”
She knelt by her bed and prayed, “Father in Heaven, please bless the girl who is far away that she will have food and a new home and a new doll. But most of all, help her to know that she has a new friend far away and that I love her. In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.”
Jenna climbed into bed and snuggled under her quilt. Being able to help someone made her feel warm inside, and praying for that someone made her feel happy.

None of us had prepared for family home evening. We realized that fact on Sunday morning as we drove to church. Unfortunately, our schedules were such that we could hold home evenings only on Sunday afternoons. Five-year-old Drew immediately announced that he would make popcorn for refreshments. Stuart, our 12-year-old, groaned when we reminded him he was responsible for the lesson and game. It sounded as though the special talent assignment wouldn’t be so special either.
A meeting kept the children and me after church while my wife, Sandi, played the piano for the choir. On the way home, Stuart informed us that while we were waiting, he had checked out a family home evening manual from the meetinghouse library and was ready with the lesson. Things were starting to look up.
That afternoon, seven-year-old Curt welcomed everyone and called on Holly, our two-year-old, to say the opening prayer. Right then, Holly was breaking a house rule by trying to get into Sandi’s piano-teaching materials. We coaxed her up front, where I tried to help her with the prayer. She would say only, “Amen.” We then discovered that her diaper needed changing, so Sandi took her out.
The boys and I discussed how we were going to attend Stuart’s jazz band concert, watch Drew and Curt’s ball game, and give Sandi time to complete a project at the Church cannery—all on Wednesday night. Sandi and Holly returned in time to hear and approve our plan.
Curt then announced talent time. While Holly played a few random notes on the piano, 10-year-old Spencer played his most recent piece on the bass. Then Sandi and Stuart played a lively piano duet.
We had spent so much time on the concert that we all agreed when Sandi suggested we keep family singing to just one song. She got out a songbook and played a march. Stuart and I moved to the piano to sing over her shoulder, the three little ones marched noisily around the living room, and Spencer lay on the couch.
We enjoyed the singing so much we begged Sandi to play another song. We sang again, and Spencer joined us at the piano while the little ones expanded their march route to include the upstairs bedrooms and a few bounces on the couch. Sandi continued to play while I made sure the bounces were deleted from the parade route. We sang three more songs.
Stuart’s lesson began with a treasure hunt. We followed some paper arrows he had previously placed on the floor to two covered baskets, a smaller one on top bearing a large paper X. The kids crowded around as we opened the small basket—labeled “Hidden Treasure of Goodies”—and all enjoyed a piece of candy. Stuart then opened the large basket—labeled “Hidden Spiritual Treasure.” Inside was a copy of the Book of Mormon.
Stuart told us that the Book of Mormon had been a “hidden treasure.” He asked what that meant, and Curt and Spencer took turns telling how Joseph Smith obtained the gold plates from their hiding place in the Hill Cumorah. Sandi and I sat back and listened while the kids answered Stuart’s questions and Holly wandered off downstairs to find some other treasure. She came back with some cards from a board game. We ignored her because she wasn’t bothering anyone. The discussion went on briefly while Holly made several more trips downstairs. Drew lost interest and began to play quietly with Holly and her cards. Stuart concluded with his testimony of the Book of Mormon and challenged each of us to read it every day for a month. He gave us charts to record our reading.
Spencer commented that he and his friend Adam had been looking at the Old Testament after Primary that day and had found a passage that said, “Truth shall spring out of the earth” (Ps. 85:11). He got his Bible and read the passage, explaining that he’d learned the verse was talking about the Book of Mormon.
The discussion was now informal and spontaneous. Curt had lost interest and was playing with Holly and Drew. I pointed out that there are other biblical phrases referring to the Book of Mormon and its below-ground hiding place. We read, “And thy voice shall be, as of one that hath a familiar spirit, out of the ground, and thy speech shall whisper out of the dust” (Isa. 29:4).
Spencer commented that other churches would not interpret these passages in the same way. For this reason, he said, we need a spiritual witness that the Book of Mormon is the word of God. That inspired me to ask Stuart how he had received his testimony of the Book of Mormon. He replied that he had received it through study and prayer. After some searching, he read us the promise in Moroni 10:3–5 [Moro. 10:3–5].
Stuart’s lesson, one of our better ones, had now gone on for about 20 minutes, and the three smaller children were starting to fight over the game cards. Since Stuart hadn’t planned any games to go along with the lesson, someone suggested we play our favorite guessing game using only Book of Mormon stories.
Stuart climbed onto the piano bench and preached while dodging imaginary stones and arrows. We quickly guessed Samuel the Lamanite. I acted out Enos hunting in the forest and praying all day. Sandi dug a pit and buried her sword; we recognized the Ammonites. The smaller kids could think only of Bible stories, so we used the illustrated Book of Mormon Stories to help. We eventually had pantomimes of Ammon defending King Lamoni’s flocks and Christ appearing to the brother of Jared. This game can go on all night at our house, but we stopped after one round.
Spencer, Drew, and I popped popcorn, and Sandi mixed some punch. We talked around the table until the popcorn was gone. Everyone liked Stuart’s suggestion that we plan a time to go to the park to run and walk, so we organized a family outing while we sat around the table. Later on, at bedtime, we had family prayer.
Although our home evening wasn’t perfect, it was a good one for us. We enjoyed being together, we learned a few things, everyone participated at least part of the time, and most participated most of the time.

At one time the Lord said that He was “well pleased” with Joseph Wakefield. He was stalwart and faithful and taught hundreds about the prophetic work of Joseph Smith. But from 1833 to 1834 he was influenced by some dissidents in Kirtland. He was once in the home of Joseph Smith. Joseph came out of the room where he had been translating the word of God and immediately began to play with some children. “This convinced [Brother Wakefield] that [Joseph] was not a man of God and that [therefore] the work was false.” In due course Joseph Wakefield apostatized, was excommunicated, and became a persecutor of the Church and of the Saints.

Xander always wished he had a big brother. And now he had one!
Well, not really, but Xander liked to pretend that Sevàk was his brother. Sevàk was staying with Xander’s family while he visited the United States to go to school.
For family home evening tonight, Sevàk was teaching them about his home country. He pulled a little flag out of his pocket. It had three stripes—red, blue, and orange. “This is the Armenian flag. Armenia is in Eastern Europe,” he said. He told them more cool stuff about his country—like how it was so small that it could fit inside Xander’s state eight times!
While Xander listened, he thought about how Sevàk was different. He talked kind of funny. He looked different too—his hair and eyes were darker than Xander’s. And Sevàk’s family went to a different church than Xander’s family.
But he’s not that different, Xander thought. We both like to play games. They had even made up their own game together with Xander’s trading cards. They also both liked watching Saturday morning cartoons.
After Sevàk finished telling about his country, they sang a Primary song and read a scripture. “Thank you for sharing with us, Sevàk,” Dad said. “Nathan, will you say the closing prayer?”
“Yup!” said Nathan. Xander glanced at Sevàk, who bowed his head and clasped his hands reverently.
Even though he’s different, Xander thought, he’s Heavenly Father’s son—just like me. That makes us pretty much brothers!
The next afternoon Xander and Nathan were playing basketball on the driveway.
“Hey, guys,” Sevàk said when he got home from school. “Can I play?”
“Sure!” Xander said. “We’re playing Horse.”
Sevàk didn’t know how to play, so Xander explained the rules while Nathan went into the garage to get another ball.
“So when it’s your turn, just make sure you don’t miss the basket,” Xander finished.
“OK, let’s play,” Sevàk said.
They all took turns shooting baskets. Sevàk was pretty good. But after a couple of rounds, he missed a shot, and the ball bounced off the backboard.
Sevàk laughed. “I can’t believe I missed that!” Then he said some words that made Xander’s stomach squirm.
Sevàk wasn’t a bad person, so why did he say those bad words? Maybe he doesn’t know that’s wrong, Xander thought. Sometimes he forgot that Sevàk didn’t know the same things about Heavenly Father and Jesus.
“Umm, we don’t say those words at our house because it makes Heavenly Father sad,” Xander said as kindly as he could. “If you want to say that, you can always just say ‘bummer’ instead.”
“Oh, OK,” Sevàk said, picking up the ball. “Thanks for telling me.”
They kept playing. Sevàk missed again, but this time he said, “Bummer!” and smiled at Xander.
The month went by quickly, and soon it was time for Sevàk to leave. Before he left, he hugged Xander goodbye. “Thank you for teaching me about God. I learned a lot from you,” Sevàk said. “I had such a cool feeling during family home evening and prayers with your family. I want to have a feeling like that in my home someday.”
Xander hugged him back. “Bye, Sevàk. I’ll really miss you!”
Sevàk got baptized later! And he’s still like a brother to Xander.
Xander felt warm inside. He knew that Heavenly Father was happy that he had helped Sevàk feel the Holy Ghost and learn about how Jesus wanted him to live.

I am acquainted with a couple from Central America. As members of a different faith, they were concerned when their young son passed away without being baptized. They consulted their minister and were told that the baby would go to limbo. "Where is limbo?" they inquired. The response was that it is believed to be a place of darkness, despair, and hopelessness.
Soon after, this couple joined the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. They learned of eternal families and that their son was not in limbo but that he was saved and could be theirs forever. They learned of and were sealed in the temple, receiving great hope, with joy replacing despair.

Eye Care 4 Kids CEO Joseph Carbone fits Israel M. for new glasses.
The nonprofit foundation Eye Care 4 Kids offers free eye exams and discounts on glasses and contacts to children who wouldn’t otherwise have access to it. The foundation has eight clinics in Utah, Nevada, and Arizona, does vision screenings in California, and has made several international outreach trips.
Siblings Anel M., 16, and Israel M., 12, have received eye exams, glasses, and contacts from the clinic. Donations to the Light the World Giving Machines help make that possible.
“Every single time we’ve been in, they’ve always been really friendly,” Anel says. “When we’ve been to other places, the glasses are really pricey, and right here they’re affordable. My family isn’t the type of family that has a lot of money, and these are necessities.”
Anel M. gets fitted for glasses.
“The glasses have really helped me,” Israel says. “I couldn’t really see that good, and I can finally see the mountains and the sky.”

President Howard William Hunter was born November 14, 1907, in Boise, Idaho. He was not baptized at age eight. His father was not a member and felt that Howard should wait until he was older to decide about getting baptized.
President Hunter said, “I did have a testimony though. My mother had taught me to pray and to thank Heavenly Father for the beauty of the earth and for the wonderful times that I had at the ranch and by the river and with the Scouts. I also learned to ask Him for the things that I wanted or needed.” When he was twelve years old, he pleaded with his father to let him be baptized and was overjoyed when his father gave him permission.
Howard and his sister, Dorothy, who was two years younger, were good friends. Each evening they walked to a nearby dairy and carried home bottled milk, delivering some to their neighbors too. They enjoyed swimming together in the Boise River in the summer, and ice-skating on frozen canals in the winter. Sometimes they and their friends went “hookybobbing”—tieing their sleds onto a wagon or buggy that pulled them along snowpacked roads.
During his boyhood, Howard had a number of jobs, including feeding their chickens morning and night, cutting lawns, delivering telegrams, selling newspapers, picking fruit, and working in a department store.
Young Howard collected things: stamps, coins, and, especially, the eggs of birds—pheasants, meadowlarks, bluebirds, robins, and wrens—which he found while exploring the swamps and woods near his home. He loved animals. His dog, Daisy, a fox terrier, followed him wherever he went. His two favorite pet rabbits were Bunny Boo and Mary Jane. One of his very favorite things to do was spend the summer at his aunt and uncle’s ranch, where he rode horses, herded cows, and even slept in a haystack at night with his cousins.
He and a friend challenged each other to get their Eagle Scout awards. He worked hard and was the first boy in his troop—and the second boy in Boise, Idaho—to earn the rank of Eagle Scout.
Blessed with perfect pitch, Howard learned to play the piano, violin, saxophone, clarinet, trumpet, drums, and marimba. In high school, he formed a band, Hunter’s Croonaders, which played at many dances in Boise. One winter his band played on a cruise ship, the SS President Jackson, and traveled to Japan, China, and the Philippines. He was thrilled to learn that his father was baptized while he was on this trip.

Katie looked at the hole in her mother’s garden, then at her big shaggy dog. “Jolly, why do you dig so much?” she asked.
The big dog gave her a curious look.
Katie giggled. “And look at your face—it’s all covered with dirt.”
Jolly wagged his tail.
“I guess digging makes you happy. That’s all there is to it.” She reached down and fastened the leash she carried onto Jolly’s collar. “Time for our walk.”
Leading Jolly through the backyard gate and heading up Cranberry Lane, Katie smiled and waved to everyone she saw. “Know what, Jolly? The people on this street are probably the nicest neighbors in the whole wide world.”
When they walked past the house on the corner, though, Katie said, “But I do wonder about the new people. I don’t think they’re very nice at all.”
For years the Martins had lived in the house on the corner. Then last month they had moved away. Now some new people, named Logan, lived there.
The Martins had always let the kids play in their front yard, but the Logans had plowed it up, spread black dirt, planted grass seed, and posted a sign that read: KEEP OFF THE GRASS.
“I don’t like that sign,” Katie told Jolly. “It doesn’t belong on Cranberry Lane. I don’t think the Logans do, either. Neighbors on this street don’t tell other neighbors to stay away.”
Just then a car pulled into the Logan’s driveway, and a man got out. He wore a dark blue uniform.
“That must be Mr. Logan,” Katie whispered to Jolly. “Look, there’s something shiny pinned to his shirt. Oh, wow—it’s a badge! He must be a police officer! He’ll probably arrest anyone who steps on his lawn, even if it’s just an accident.”
After watching Mr. Logan go into his house, Katie turned and started for home, feeling a little scared. Things were never going to be the same, now that the law was keeping tabs on Cranberry Lane.
When she reached home, she took Jolly to the backyard. But before she could close the gate, he scampered through it and headed lickety-split up the street. When he got to the Logans’ yard, he stopped and began to dig.
When Katie finally caught up with him, she started shouting, “Jolly! Stop that!”
But the shaggy dog just started a new hole. Dirt flew everywhere.
Katie began to cry. “Jolly,” she wailed, “you’re going to get me arrested!”
Suddenly, as if he understood, Jolly stopped digging and ran pell-mell over to her and jumped up on her legs for a comforting pat.
“Oh, Jolly, you’re the only dog living on Cranberry Lane. Mr. Logan can easily find out who ruined his lawn. He’ll probably put me in jail!”
Katie quickly took Jolly home and to the backyard, where she carefully shut the gate. Then she went to the garage and got a garden rake. Dragging it behind her, she headed for the Logans’ house.
Knees knocking, heart pounding, Katie rang the bell.
Mr. Logan answered immediately. “Hello there,” he said.
Katie swallowed. “My name is K-K-Katie C-C-Cooper. My d-dog—” It was no use. Katie dissolved into tears.
Mr. Logan opened the screen door and stepped outside. “What about your dog?”
“He—he d-d-dug up your new gr-gr-grass,” she managed to get out.
“Oh, so I see. Tell you what—I’ll go get my rake, and you and I will do a little repair work.”
He wasn’t going to arrest her—he was going to help her! Katie could hardly believe it.
He returned with his rake and more grass seed, and the two of them went to work. “Know what, Katie? My wife and I have always lived in an apartment, so this yard is a dream come true for us. Especially now. My wife and I have a new baby boy—born last night!
“We want nice soft grass for him to play on,” Mr. Logan continued. “That’s why I put up the sign. Grass seed won’t grow if people walk on it, you know. But as soon as it has a good root system, the sign will come down. Then you kids can play here anytime.” He took a final swipe with his rake, then leaned on it and smiled at her. “Thank you for your honesty and your help, Katie Cooper.”
“Mr. Logan, if I hadn’t told you about Jolly and helped you fix the yard, would you have arrested me?”
Mr. Logan started to laugh, then became serious. “Katie, police officers don’t arrest children—or big shaggy dogs, either. At least not unless they’ve done something really bad. I’m just a regular neighbor, and I want to be a good one—like you were for me today. Promise me that you’ll come back soon. I want you to meet my wife and our new son.”
Katie smiled. “OK.”
“Good.” He turned and started to sprinkle grass seeds on the newly raked areas.
Suddenly Katie had a good idea. “Mr. Logan,” she called. “I’ll help keep the kids off your yard until the seed grows.”
He turned and gave her a thumbs-up sign.
She waved, then slung the rake over her shoulder and headed for home, feeling great. Jolly was waiting for her at the gate.
“Guess what, Jolly? That sign does belong on Cranberry Lane. And I don’t have to be afraid of Mr. Logan. He’s just like everybody else on this street—one of the nicest neighbors in the whole wide world!”

Some years ago, my wife, Harriet, and I had a memorable experience in which we saw this promise fulfilled. We were in West Africa, a beautiful part of the world where the Church is growing and the Latter-day Saints are delightful. However, West Africa also has many challenges. In particular, I was sorrowed by the poverty that I saw. In the cities there is high unemployment, and families often struggle to provide for their daily needs and for their safety. It broke my heart to know that many of our precious members of the Church live in such deprivation. But I also learned that these fine members help each other to lighten their heavy burdens.
We eventually arrived at one of our meetinghouses near a large city. But instead of finding a people burdened and absorbed by darkness, we discovered a joyful people who were radiating with light! The happiness they felt for the gospel was contagious and lifted our spirits. The love they expressed for us was humbling. Their smiles were genuine and infectious.
I remember wondering at the time if there could possibly be a happier people on the face of the planet. Even though these dear Saints were surrounded by difficulties and trials, they were filled with light!
The meeting began, and I started to speak. But soon the power went out in the building, and we were left in complete darkness.
For a while I could hardly see anyone in the congregation, but I could see and feel the brilliant and beautiful smiles of our Saints. Oh, how I loved being with these wonderful people!
The darkness in the chapel continued, and so I sat next to my wife and waited for the power to be restored. As we waited, something remarkable happened.
A few voices began singing one of the hymns of the Restoration. And then others joined in. And then more. Soon, a sweet and overwhelming chorus of voices filled the chapel.
These members of the Church did not need hymnbooks; they knew every word of every hymn they sang. And they sang one song after another with an energy and spirit that touched my soul.
Eventually, the lights sparked back on and bathed the room with light. Harriet and I looked at each other, our cheeks wet with tears.
In the midst of great darkness, these beautiful, wonderful Saints had filled this Church building and our souls with light.
It was a profoundly moving moment for us—one Harriet and I will never forget.

As Sister Simpson and I walked along lower Queen Street in Auckland, New Zealand, the other day, we came to a particular place not far from the wharf. There we paused for a few moments as I related to her the incident that took place at that very spot during my first mission.

I could still see in my mind’s eye a very old Maori couple who stood at the curb with thousands of others waving farewell to the Maori Battalion as they marched down to their troop transport and off to war.

The old couple became very excited as one young soldier glanced their way with a big smile. From their Maori conversation, it became apparent that this was their great-grandson going off to war.

His would be an atomic war with sophisticated equipment capable of killing by the thousands—so unlike the Maori wars of the late 1800s that the old Maori had participated in as a young tribal warrior.

Soon the boy was gone from view, and it was then that the old man turned to his wife and said (perhaps a little cynically), “Ka tahi kua pakeha tatou,” which in effect means, “So now we are civilized.”

It is often through the process of learning what questions to ask, that Lord can help us transform our feelings. Once I was caught in a conflict with a dear friend who seemed to be moving away from Heavenly Father and in the process of that was doing things in our relationship that caused me great pain. I prayed that my friend would stop doing things that hurt me. However, this prayer never felt right. I shared my unease with another friend who knew both of us, and he suggested that my prayer centered too much on me and not the wellbeing of my friend. I then went home and experimented with my prayers. I found that if I prayed that my friend would feel God's love and return to Him, I had a completely different feeling. It was a feeling of light, of joy, and amazingly of great love. It was, as Alma said, a swelling motion that enlarged my soul, and it enlightened my understanding. It was delicious. This was a process where Heavenly Father tutored me on how to refi
ne my prayer. Ironically, at the very same time that my prayer became less about me, it became part of the process of my own healing. As I prayed for my friend in a better way, I experienced fi
rsthand the Lord's promise that love casts out fear.

Alex’s testimony was strengthened further following a dream he had in which he was called on a full-time mission. He began preparing but didn’t wait until he was 19 to begin sharing the gospel, starting with his own family.
“Alex always prayed for and encouraged his family,” says Bishop Sayas. “And he would always encourage his older brothers to attend church. The effort to bring his family back succeeded because of Alex.”
“It was Alex who was always working with us and with ward members on our behalf,” Carmen says. “They told us he was always praying for his parents to return to church. We’re grateful he didn’t give up on us.”
If Latter-day Saints are good examples, Alex says, others will eventually take notice. “If we are happy and content in the Church, others are going to want to partake of our happiness. If we endure and move forward, miracles can occur.”

Photograph by Mirna Ortiz
Elder Esteban Méndez’s mother said the Lord isn’t “casual” in His plan for His children. He is always aware of our needs. Elder Méndez was originally called to serve in the Guatemala Guatemala City Mission, and his parents were excited for him to serve.
Just before leaving the Mexico Missionary Training Center to enter the mission field, however, he returned home. His parents were confused. They came to understand that the Lord had called him to serve in Guatemala so that he could deepen his own conversion while in the Mexico Missionary Training Center. Much of his testimony began to grow there in Mexico.
Soon after returning home, Elder Méndez was called to be a service missionary in Costa Rica, where he lives. He didn’t know anything about service missions but accepted the call with faith that he could serve the Lord there too.
He didn’t know anything about service missions but accepted the call with faith.
After accepting the call, Elder Méndez became the first young service missionary in Costa Rica. At the time, he and his companion were the only young service missionaries in the entire country.
Elder Méndez’s service includes assisting in the mission office, accompanying the teaching missionaries, and serving in the San José Costa Rica Temple.
Elder Méndez’s father said, “Because of Elder Méndez’s efforts, one extended family member has been baptized and another is taking missionary lessons.”