Gospel Story Finder

For you to feel that urgency, I first share the story of Noelle Pikus-Pace, one of those Latter-day Saint athletes. In Noelle’s event, the skeleton, athletes build momentum as they sprint and then plunge headfirst on a small sled. With their faces inches above the ground, they race down a winding, icy track at speeds that top 90 miles (145 km) an hour.
Remarkably, years of preparation would be considered either a success or a disappointment based on what happened in the space of four intense 60-second runs.
Noelle’s previous 2006 Olympic dreams were dashed when a terrible accident left her with a broken leg. In the 2010 Olympics her dreams fell short again when just over one-tenth of a second kept her from the medal stand.
Can you imagine the anxiety she felt as she waited to begin her first run in the 2014 Olympics? Years of preparation would culminate in only a sliver of time. Four minutes total. She spent years preparing for those four minutes and would spend a lifetime afterward reflecting on them.
Noelle’s final runs were virtually flawless! We will never forget her leap into the stands to embrace her family after crossing the finish line, exclaiming, “We did it!” Years of preparation had paid off. We saw her Young Women medallion around her neck as the silver medal was placed there beside it.
It may seem unfair that Noelle’s entire Olympic dreams hinged on what she did during just four brief minutes. But she knew it, and that is why she prepared so diligently. She sensed the magnitude, the urgency of her four minutes, and what they would mean for the rest of her life.

Then we received a referral from Salt Lake City and baptized another man—the first black man to be baptized in our area. He told us he had prayed for a long time for the Lord to send someone to him who could tell him which was the true church. He told us that when we first knocked on his door, he saw a light shining around us—and right then he knew that his prayers had been answered. He was baptized shortly after that.

Even though she was 90 years old, Aletha Gilbert of the Lakeview Ward, Bountiful Utah Central Stake, loved to invite her family over for family home evening. Before her death in 2002, Aletha wrote of these special home evenings: “I make sure I have a supply of pens or pencils, writing paper, and envelopes. Sometimes I address the envelopes in advance. We each write a message to missionaries in the family and ward. What fun! Everyone likes this idea—the one who sends it and the one who receives it.”

In 1869 my great-great-grandfather Edwin S. Graham wrote a letter to his children prior to traveling to Texas from Iowa. Having a strong Christian faith and knowing that he might not live to see them again, he gave them what could have been called his last instruction. He wrote:

“In the event . . . that I should not live to return to you, . . . I know that in [your] mother [you] will have all [the] affection and devotion that [you] could possibly have, as long as she might live. . . . Robby, you and Lizzie are so young that . . . [should you] forever be bereft of your father’s care, advice and instructions, . . . live in the fear of God, your Redeemer. Never wrong in any way your fellow man. In morals be ever particularly careful, prudent, [and] discreet. . . . Never lie. Never make a harsh promise. Master, always master, never let passion master you. . . .

In all things be true to yourselves and to others, with God’s blessing and protection. [May He] ever guide and direct you.”

Let me tell you an experience I had several years ago. I was sitting in my office. I heard a commotion out in the reception area. My secretary picked up the telephone and buzzed me. She said, “There’s a couple here, Elder Pinnock, that you have been assigned to talk with.”

I could tell she was very nervous, and I said, “Have them in.” A man and a woman came into my office. Her face was tearstained.
He began pounding on my desk, “Tell her I have the priesthood, and she’s to do what I tell her to do.”
The first thing I said was, “Stop pounding on my desk.” The second thing I said was, “Brother, you do not have the priesthood.”
“Oh, yes, I do. I was given the priesthood last June.”
I said, “You don’t have the priesthood,” and I turned behind me to where my scriptures lay. I took the triple combination and turned quickly to section 121 of the Doctrine and Covenants. We could have begun in a number of places, but let’s begin with verse 36:

That the rights of the priesthood are inseparably connected with the powers of heaven, and that the powers of heaven cannot be controlled nor handled only upon the principles of righteousness.
That they may be conferred upon us, it is true; but when we undertake to cover our sins, or to gratify our pride, our vain ambition, or to exercise control or dominion or compulsion upon the souls of the children of men, in any degree of unrighteousness, behold, the heavens withdraw themselves; the Spirit of the Lord is grieved; and when it is withdrawn, Amen to the priesthood or the authority of that man.

At that time, that good sister smiled briefly. I said, “Do you understand that you don’t have the priesthood?”
He said, “I didn’t understand that before now.”
Then I said, “Let’s begin reading the 41st verse”:

No power or influence can or ought to be maintained by virtue of the priesthood [or any other position or title, I might add], only by persuasion, by long-suffering, by gentleness and meekness, and by love unfeigned;
By kindness and pure knowledge. . . .

About this time, their hands joined as I read the next several verses:

Which shall greatly enlarge the soul without hypocrisy, and without guile.

Jumping to the 45th verse:

Let thy bowels also be full of charity towards all men, and to the household of faith, and let virtue garnish thy thoughts unceasingly; then shall thy confidence wax strong in the presence of God; and the doctrine of the priesthood shall distil upon thy soul as the dews from heaven.

Well, he was listening now. And we talked for the next few minutes about the importance of meekness and patience and love unfeigned. As they left, they walked out arm in arm, apparently after having learned a great lesson in life. The gospel of Jesus Christ and the priesthood that so many of us in this room bear can only be maintained and handled upon the principles of righteousness.

Babe Ruth is revered in the nation’s heart as the home-run king. He was a winner, a champion in every sense of the word. But did you know that while he hit 714 homeruns, he struck out 1,330 times? He struck out almost twice as many times as he hit for the circuit.
The story is told that in the summer of 1927 at Shibe Park in Philadelphia, 35,000 baseball fans were all very busy booing one man. It was Babe Ruth. He had just struck out on three pitched balls for the second successive time. Two runners were left stranded on base.
He turned from the plate and headed for the dugout amidst the sounds of wild and abusive jeers. And before he sat down, he tipped his hat to the booing crowd with an unruffled smile.
His turn came up again in the eighth inning. This time the situation was critical. The Athletics were crowding out the Yankees, 3 to 1. The bases were loaded, and there were two out. He could win or lose the game for the Yankees, and he was going up to bat as a personal loser for the day. He selected his favorite bat and then stood at home plate facing one of baseball’s toughest pitchers. Now it all depended on him, the man who had just struck out twice, the man who had earned the insults of the crowd. The excitement was tremendous. All eyes were upon him.
The pitcher flung the first ball across the base. With all his power, Babe swung and missed. The next pitch was good, too, and Ruth swung so hard he fell over, raising a cloud of dust. It didn’t look good for him. But the third time, Ruth swung again, and this time he connected, connected with a loud explosion that sent the ball hurtling out of the park and beyond the houses across the street to make one of the longest hits in baseball history. (See Earl Nightingale, “Worth Remembering,” Our Changing World, No. 1180.)
Babe Ruth had staying power. He stayed in there when all looked lost. He didn’t become overwhelmed with his losses. He didn’t measure and remeasure again his failures. He didn’t declare himself a loser and curl up in the dugout and die. The greatest slugger kept trying, putting his heart on the line.

I was 11, shivering in a flurry of pre-dawn snowfall, staring from the edge of the Grand Canyon into the black void below. Behind me, the other Scouts were pulling on their packs and horsing around, ignoring the Scoutmaster who was trying to get everyone organized for the long hike. As the youngest—and smallest—of the group, I was intimidated by the older boys and the task that lay ahead.
“Are you ready?” my dad asked then, coming up behind me and laying a strong hand on my shoulder. My heart pounded in my chest and part of me wanted to say no, but I didn’t want to look weak in front of the other Scouts, so I nodded. A few minutes later, we hefted our packs and started down the winding trail to the river far below.
Slowly, the sun rose into the sky. The snow turned into freezing mist and then into a light rain that formed puddles in the red dirt. At last, it evaporated into a sweltering heat. We shed our jackets, applied sunscreen, and marched on.
The hours ticked by. Sweat dripped down my face, and every inch of my body ached. Blisters began to form on my feet. The pack, towering over my head, grew heavier with every step.
Miles inched past: first one, then two, then three. When we stopped for lunch, we had barely passed the halfway point and my legs were already turning to jelly. I dropped my pack to the ground and gratefully plopped onto a large rock beside the trail to eat my smashed peanut butter sandwich.
Relieved of their load, my muscles shook uncontrollably. I longingly watched a mule train pass on its way to the bottom. What would it be like to ride instead of walk? Much sooner than I would have liked, the Scoutmaster signaled the end of the break. I staggered as I hoisted my pack, but my dad caught me and helped me get it into place.
We started down the trail again and, almost immediately, I started having problems. Instead of resting my sore muscles, the break had tightened them. I almost stumbled with each aching step.
Ten minutes passed. My pack seemed to drag behind me, pulling me down and making it impossible to lift my feet. Still, I forced myself forward. I couldn’t show weakness in front of the other Scouts. I had to keep moving.
But a few minutes later, I could go no farther. My heart beat faster as I gathered my courage to call for a stop. In my mind, I could see the disappointment and frustration of the older boys at having to stop for the baby who shouldn’t have been allowed to come in the first place. Tears welled up, and I choked back a sudden lump in my throat.
That was when my pack lifted and I suddenly felt lighter than air.
My father, who had been following close behind, had seen my distress and, just when I was about to give up, had reached out, grabbed the bottom of my pack, and lifted it with his strong arm. With the load gone, I suddenly felt like I could run down the trail.
We continued like this for several minutes, with me walking ahead and my father following close behind, lifting the pack from my shoulders. When he at last lowered the pack and removed what must have been a very sore arm, I had regained my strength and could continue on.
Over the years, the memory of that hike and what my father had done for me had faded. But as I stared into the valley that last morning before leaving on my mission, it came rushing back.
In that moment, I saw that my father had shown me an incredible example of how the Savior works. He lets us live our lives and make our own decisions. He lets the weight of the world gather on our shoulders as we face choices and circumstances that test our faith and dedication. And then, when we can go no further, He reaches out with His strong arm and lifts our packs so we can continue on.
Staring into the valley now, I no longer feared the long journey ahead or the trials I would face on my mission or at any other time in my life. I knew that the Lord would always be close behind and that, when I had done all I could, He would reach out and lift my pack.

The walk up the black paved road to the temple in American Fork, Utah, for Elizabeth (10) and Ethan (9) Ault is much shorter than the forty-mile walk on a rocky dirt road their great-great-great-grandfather took to work on the Salt Lake Temple. The Aults live just a few blocks from the new Mount Timpanogos Utah Temple. Every morning Ethan loves to see the sun shining on the temple’s stained-glass windows on his way to school.
Elizabeth and Ethan’s great-great-great-grandfather worked as a stonecutter on the Salt Lake Temple. Following his pioneer ancestor’s example of sacrifice, Elizabeth and Ethan’s Grandfather Ault donated all the grass for the Mount Timpanogos Utah Temple grounds, and his family volunteered to lay it. Elizabeth and Ethan got to help lay the sod (grass).
There are many steps to laying sod. Elizabeth helped smooth out the dirt with a rake, and sometimes she helped lay the sod on the ground. Ethan picked up scraps and piled them on a wooden pallet. Working in the sun can get hot and tiring, but they liked to help on the temple grounds because it made them feel good. “Even cleaning up the temple grounds was a privilege because it is the Lord’s house,” their mom, Connie, said.
Elizabeth felt especially close to the temple because the ground was broken to build the temple on the same day she was baptized. “I was so happy to have the temple ‘born’ on my baptism day. The temple makes me think of Jesus Christ.”
Ethan knows that temples are important for doing ordinances for the dead, including baptisms. He and Elizabeth were eager to go to the temple dedication with their brothers and sisters and their mom and dad.
Elizabeth shares her birthday with her great-grandmother, Grandma Cunningham. She also shares her name. Elizabeth is Grandma Cunningham’s middle name, and there is a special bond between them. When Grandma Cunningham moved out of her house, she gave Elizabeth one of her scripture sets. “Grandma is special, and she’s always reading the scriptures,” Elizabeth said. She remembers her grandma’s good example when she reads the scriptures.
When Ethan bears his testimony in sacrament meeting, he says that he is thankful for the scriptures and the temple. Both Ethan and Elizabeth share their testimonies almost every fast Sunday. Mom and Dad agree, “They’re a good example for the rest of us.”
The Aults worked on the temple grounds once a week, with help from volunteers. Originally just the Ault family and their relatives were going to lay the sod. But the project was so big that different wards and friends volunteered to help.
When the two children were not working at the temple, they helped at their dad’s golf driving range. He appreciates all that they do for him. But the children don’t just work—they love to rollerblade, ride their bikes, and play with their dog, Snowball. Ethan likes to play soccer with his brothers Eric (14) and Evan (12). He also plays right field on a baseball team called the White Sox. Elizabeth often goes to cheer him on. “They are good friends, and they watch out for each other,” Mother said.
Elizabeth likes to read—her favorite place to be is in her room, reading. But her best talent is singing. She sang in a school talent show and with a choir in stake conference. Her mother can’t remember a time when Elizabeth didn’t sing. She likes to sing in harmony with her mother. “Oh, What Do You Do in the Summertime?”* is Elizabeth’s favorite song to sing in Primary.
Ethan likes to draw pictures in his Primary class. Art is also his favorite subject in school. He likes to draw space shuttles and rockets. He also creates spaceships with plastic building blocks. Working with spaceships is good practice because he wants to be an astronaut. His neighbors have a telescope that he uses to get a closer look at the stars. When he sees stars sparkling in the sky, Ethan thinks of heaven and Heavenly Father.
Perhaps his love for stars and spaceships will take him to space in the future. For now, though, he and Elizabeth are content that they got to help landscape the Mount Timpanogos Utah Temple grounds. “Their” temple also sparkles and reminds them both of heaven.

Not far from Peñaflor is the town of Talagante. It seems to be a newer town than Peñaflor, with less time for trees to have grown old and gracious. It has more the feeling of a sun-rich central Mexican pueblo, blessed with sunny plazas, sunny courtyards, and sunny streets down which Mormon elders go each day seeking the pure in heart. Two of the elders are Elder Valenzuela and Elder Arancibia. They are both Chileans, and they are good examples of why the future of missionary work in Chile is bright.

Today they headed for the central plaza to do some street contacting. “I was converted to the Church three years ago,” Elder Valenzuela said. “I have a strong desire to try to imitate the Savior, even though it be in a very small way. I have a strong testimony of the Church. I know that it is really the Church of Jesus Christ and that the authorities are directed by revelation, which comforts me. It is a living Church because it has the priesthood. And now, as the scriptures say, I must learn wisdom in my youth and try to follow from the beginning the steps and precepts that the Church has taught so that someday with much effort, I may achieve exaltation.”

Elder Arancibia said, “Belonging to the Church has meant a very great change in my life, and as I progressed, a desire was born in my heart that all the world should have the satisfaction and joy that comes from living the principles that He taught us and be able to work through his authority, the priesthood. This was basically what gave birth in me to this desire to share the gospel. I feel strongly in my heart that Jesus Christ is our Savior. In truth, I owe to him everything that I am. It is his life and his acts that have given me the opportunity of becoming clean and helping my brothers and sisters so that they can arrive at a knowledge like mine and share my joy.”

Elder Arancibia added. “I know that Joseph Smith was a prophet of the Lord. Studying his life and understanding his works and teachings, I have felt in my own person the power of the Spirit of the Lord testifying to me of his divine mission. I could feel it too when the president of the Church came. I know that he too is a prophet of the Lord. The authority is still found on the earth.”

In the plaza they introduced themselves to passersby and set up appointments for later. The work was a little dusty, so they took time out for a shoeshine. Naturally they set up a visit with the shoeshine man.

Their shoes gleaming, the elders left the plaza to knock on some doors. Afterwards they went to the branch president’s house to discuss member-missionary work.

Then they had to go to the meetinghouse because the baptismal font needed cleaning out. With brooms in hand they got it ready for the next day’s baptismal service.

“When a person joins the Church a chain of consequences begins,” Elder Valenzuela explained. “His manner of living changes. His neighbors sense it. The whole neighborhood is influenced. The same thing happens throughout the whole community. Thus, the whole of Chile is going to become more righteous and the standard of living is going to rise because the gospel influences every aspect of life including the social, emotional, intellectual, physical, and spiritual. Everybody asks: ‘Where will inflation end?’ ‘How can war be abolished?’ But the thing that must happen before these problems can be solved isn’t a human thing. The only solution is to apply the gospel of Jesus Christ, to repent and live the principles of the gospel.”

Is it an advantage for a missionary in Chile to be Chilean? Both elders agreed that it is, because of greater cultural understanding and language facility. “But it isn’t really a large advantage,” Elder Arancibia said. “The power that really converts people is the power of the Spirit. If a missionary is true to his calling, he can communicate by the Spirit regardless of his language or nationality. We have found that when everything is right with us, when our part is done right, an investigator can feel the Spirit. There is a communication that is not only the words that come from our lips. God speaks with our voices, and his Spirit testifies to the truth of our words. When we rely on the power of the flesh, things often don’t work out as we would like.”

The font was soon ready for the service. Elder Valenzuela whisked off one last speck of dirt and looked at his handiwork with pride. “Many Chilean missionaries will soon be returning to their homes,” he said. “They are going to establish new Latter-day Saint homes, and the gospel will become even more deeply and firmly rooted in Chilean soil. And as this happens, the number of missionaries will keep growing. There’s no reason why the majority of Chile shouldn’t someday be LDS.”

Tino and Quim both found treasures of spiritual strength in the mission field. Quim recalls trying to teach one widow whose husband had spent much of his life as a missionary for another church. The woman had agreed to listen to the missionary discussions because her daughter was a Latter-day Saint. As one of the discussions progressed, however, she found it too difficult to accept the idea that the teachings of her church were not correct. “Elder Moreira,” she said, “I don’t want to hear any more of this doctrine. I am going to labor to finish the missionary work my husband started!”
Quickly, Quim offered a silent prayer, asking what to say. He was inspired to assure the woman that her husband had already accepted the gospel in the spirit world.
Later, the woman’s daughter told Quim that after saying her own personal prayers that evening, she lay meditating on how she could help her mother accept the gospel. Suddenly, “I saw my father in my room. He said, ‘That missionary spoke the truth, and I want your mother to be baptized.’”
Because of her daughter’s experience, the mother agreed to listen to the missionaries again. This time, there was a different spirit about her; she was baptized a week later.

A sobering and poignant scene appears on our screen as we switch channels. A grieving young father and his two children sit before a television set in their home after a makeshift dinner. The children have been staying with Grandmother while their mother has slowly slipped away in a lingering illness; now they and their father are home again after her funeral. The little girl drops off to sleep and is carried to her bed. The little boy fights off sleepiness until he finally asks his father if tonight, just tonight, he can sleep with him in his bed. As the two lie silently in the dark, the lad speaks: “Daddy, are you looking at me?” “Yes, son,” the father replies, “I am looking at you.”
The boy sighs and, exhausted, sleeps. The father waits a time and then, weeping, cries out in the dark, in anxious anguish: “God, are you looking at me? If you are, maybe I can make it. Without you, I know I can’t.”

When my wife and I were first married, President Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985) encouraged members of the Church to read the scriptures every day with their families. We wanted to follow the prophet, so we decided we would do that together as a couple and then with our future children.
Years later, our family had grown to five children, including our youngest, Spencer.
Once, when Spencer was six years old, my wife and I went away for just a few days and left the children with a babysitter. When we returned home, I sat down with Spencer and asked him how everything had gone while we were away.
He told me that he’d had a hard time sleeping. When I asked why he didn’t sleep well, he thought about it and said he did not know.
Later that evening our family began our nightly routine of reading the Book of Mormon together.
Suddenly Spencer exclaimed, “That’s it!” I asked what he was talking about. “That’s why I couldn’t sleep very well at night.”
“Why couldn’t you sleep?” I asked.
“We didn’t read the scriptures at night while you were gone, and I like how the scriptures make me feel.”
Spencer had learned that reading the scriptures every day brings us the comfort, peace, and guidance of the Holy Ghost.

“As [a] man was walking past his neighbor’s house, he noticed in the middle of [the] beautiful lawn a single, enormous, yellow dandelion weed. … Why didn’t his neighbor pull it out? Couldn’t he see it? … This solitary dandelion bothered [the man] beyond description, and he wanted to do something about it. Should he just pluck it out? Or spray it with weed killer? Perhaps if he went under cover of night, he could remove it secretly. These thoughts totally occupied his mind as he walked toward his own home. He entered his house without even glancing at his own front yard—which was blanketed with hundreds of yellow dandelions. … I’m not sure why we are able to diagnose and recommend remedies for other people’s ills so well, while we often have difficulty seeing our own.”

Concerned for the youth of his ward, a good bishop in Bountiful challenged his young people to taste the sweetness of beautiful service. Reluctantly at first, they put aside their entertainment. One project was making quilts for the mentally retarded at the American Fork Training School. Upon completion of their quilts, the girls delivered them. They arrived at the school in time to help feed supper to the “children.” And that was an experience. As they left the school, with mashed potatoes, gravy, and assorted vegetables in their hair and on their outfits, one girl, touched by the sweetness of the “child” she had fed, said, “I’ll never forget Billy.”

I can understand in some small part how joyful the Lord must be when His servants obey without murmuring. Recently, my dear wife and I participated in a meeting during which our responsibilities were to be explained. We had no idea, at that time, what our assignment would be or where we would be serving. I was privately advised that we would be called to serve in West Africa. I was surprised and delighted with the assignment, but there passed through my mind the thoughts that would inevitably arise in the mind of my companion of almost 39 years. How would she receive this assignment? I knew she would agree to go. In all our years together, she has never refused a call from the Lord. But what would be the feelings of her heart?
As I sat next to her, she discerned in my eyes that I knew our assignment. She said, “Well, where is it?” I simply said, “Africa.” Her eyes brightened, and she said with cheerful heart, “Isn’t that great!” My joy was full.

I remember holding my daughter Nikki in my arms for the first time. She looked beautiful and perfect. My heart and mind filled with loving dreams of nurturing her. I looked forward to sharing my love of books, music, and art. I would spare no effort to support her in developing her talents and abilities.
I could not have imagined at that time that she would never be able to read above a fourth-grade level; calculate beyond simple, single-digit arithmetic problems; or learn to drive a car. It was only after six difficult years of fears, frustrations, medical evaluation, and psychological testing that I learned Nikki was intellectually impaired.
Adjusting to having a child with a disability is a process, not an event. Ten percent of all children have a disability or a long-term chronic illness. Although it is a reasonably common experience, most parents are not prepared to hear, “Your child has a serious disability.” It takes some time to learn how to deal with the confusion, physical demands, behavioral challenges, extra expenses, and feelings of embarrassment and loneliness. If you have experienced or are still going through this process of adjustment, it is important for you to know that many of your responses and reactions are normal.
You may find it very difficult at first to assimilate the information that your child has a disability. You may need some time to understand what the diagnosis means. We all have images and stereotypes of children with intellectual impairment or mental illness. These diagnoses may not match what we see in our child, particularly if the child looks normal. It is helpful to learn about the disability. Find out as much as you can about your child’s diagnosis. Seek information from reliable sources, such as professional organizations that focus on the specific disability.
Denial is a psychological defense mechanism we utilize when we feel overwhelmed and unable to cope. In a way, denial can be a gift that allows us to accept the truth a little at a time and make it more bearable. Denial often comes from fear—fear due to uncertainty about the future or concern about the impact this child will have on other family members. Denial can lead to a frantic search for a cure. Parents may believe if they can only find the right doctor, the right medicine, the right program, or the right learning approach, then the child will be made “normal.” This process of searching is useful in the sense that it can help you locate resources that might help your child, yourself, and your family. Sooner or later, however, you have to confront the child’s limitations and accept your own inability to undo the disability. You must also release other people from that responsibility.
Acknowledging the reality of the disability may lead to feeling anxious. Anxiety is the body’s way of responding to fear and mobilizing resources. If a great beast were to come into your room, you would probably have an anxiety response. Your body would release adrenaline, and you would be prepared to fight, flee, or freeze. These are common responses when people are threatened in some way. As you begin to realize this child needs special care and protection, that anxious energy can mobilize your resources. Get information. Talk with other parents. Pray and talk with priesthood leaders. Seek help from professionals. Activity that reduces the feeling of powerlessness is a good way to use that energy. Self-care is also important in managing anxiety. Get adequate sleep, eat right, and take time for activities that help you relax and enjoy life. Parents need occasional respite from the heavy responsibility of caring for a child with a disability.
Belief in a just world sometimes produces unwarranted guilt. We want to believe that our world is predictable and controllable. This belief protects us from our fears. We convince ourselves that bad things happen to bad people and good things happen to good people. This seems just. The downside of this belief is that when something does hurt us, we tend to feel we are somehow to blame. Comments by well-meaning but insensitive people can trigger these feelings. Comments such as “You must have needed this particular experience for your salvation” or can lead parents to have painful and unwarranted guilt. They start asking, “Why me? Am I so bad that I needed something this severe to shape me up? I wanted only to be a good parent.” Questions may also come from people who believe they can protect themselves from this same experience if they can only discover what you did “wrong.”
You will need to find your own spiritual meaning concerning painful events and not allow others to impose their answers as to why these things happened. It takes years to fully understand, and sometimes the answer doesn’t come in this life. Trust that Heavenly Father is a God of love and does not delight in punishing you. That way, you will be able to find more accurate meaning in the adversities you face.
Strong emotions result from losses. If you have a child with a disability, you may feel the loss of the child you thought you would be raising. You may also feel grief over the loss of what you may have envisioned as an ideal family. Indeed, you may have to reframe your definition of an ideal family.
When I was a young mother with four children, my husband was serving as a bishop. It felt wonderful to be part of my idea of an ideal Latter-day Saint family. But my husband died of cancer, and I was left to raise my children alone. I had to return to school, finish a degree, and work. I had to reframe what I perceived an ideal Latter-day Saint family to be. I later married a man with six children, and we became a blended family with ten children. Once again I had to reframe what I thought an ideal LDS family was.
Learning how to grieve and then go on with your life can build strength. When you can acknowledge and work through painful feelings, you develop emotional, spiritual, and psychological skills that can help you in other areas of your life. Your capacity for empathy can grow through a personal acquaintance with grief.
We need to make sense of what we perceive as injustice. Raising a child with a disability can give you a close view of the cruel side of life. Creating a new definition of what is fair and just, however, can reduce anger. For example, when my daughter was 10 years old, she attended a Sunday School party. She came home scraped and bleeding. One of the boys in the class had called her a “stupid retard” and pushed her down. I felt angry that my child was hurt. Angry feelings can be a message that something needs to be done. Anger can alert us to dangers, problems, and offenses that may need some correcting. We can make decisions, however, about how we act on those feelings. We can deal with anger in a constructive way.
My husband and I visited the boy’s family. We sat with the boy and his parents and calmly talked about what the word retarded meant. We asked the boy how he would feel if he were unable to do the things he enjoyed. This boy became one of our daughter’s strongest allies. That experience ultimately helped another person to grow. This seemed “fair.” Retaliation would not have produced justice. Although anger may come from experiences with injustice, we can turn them into good experiences for ourselves and others.
Children with disabilities have a harder time mastering routine behaviors and activities. Learning emotional skills is even more difficult. They experience more frustration than other children. If the disability affects brain functioning, the child will find it harder to think through problems rationally. My husband refers to behavior resulting from this difficulty as “the law of the universe”: If you cannot talk it out, you are going to act it out. In other words, what cannot be verbally expressed will be acted out in some way, even if it is just through having a stomachache. Often the child’s misbehavior is simply an attempt to cope with some other problem.
For example, when my daughter was 18, she would not go to bed and insisted on leaving her light on all night. She would get very angry and say, “I don’t want to go to bed because there are missionaries hiding in my dresser drawer.” I recognized this as clearly delusional.
Rather than being angry, I tried to understand. What would cause her to be so frightened? As I thought about it, I realized that many of her friends were getting married. She had attended bridal parties where they had received beautiful things they would put in their dresser drawers. They were getting married, leaving her, and were no longer available as her friends. She also longed to have those same experiences and had expressed concerns: “Will I ever marry? Will anyone ever love me? Will anyone ever give me a bridal party and beautiful things?” Her friends had married returned missionaries. She could see that returned missionaries were great husbands. Somehow, all of this went together. She was also poignantly and painfully aware that she lacked the skills and the ability to manage the demands of a marriage. She was unable to verbally express those conflicts or even fully understand them, so all we heard was a delusion about missionaries hiding in the drawer. Once I began to understand her inner experience, I was able to talk it through with her. We worked together to verbalize her conflicts and grieve the sorrow of not being able to marry. The problem behavior stopped, and she was able to sleep peacefully.
Parents sometimes find it difficult to identify the source of a disabled child’s misbehavior. Disabilities differ in the kinds of challenges they create. Children’s natural dispositions, strengths, and weaknesses vary. The circumstances surrounding incidents of misbehavior are unique to each family. These factors make it difficult, but if you can determine the meaning of the misbehavior, it becomes easier to know which problems need to be solved. Becoming angry and frustrated with the child is counterproductive because these reactions generally prevent parents from identifying the real source of the misbehavior.
One fairly common source of misbehavior is attention seeking. The child may be trying to get your attention because he or she is hungry, tired, scared, overstimulated, bored, frustrated, sick, or having an allergic response to food or the environment. If a child doesn’t have the skill to talk it out, he or she will act it out. This is particularly true for children who have disorders that compromise brain functioning, such as attention deficit disorder, intellectual impairment, bipolar mood disorder, or schizophrenia. The child may feel overwhelmed and may not be able to verbalize the distress. Parents need to be alert to what is going on in the child’s life that may cause him or her to seek attention.
Strategies that do not work in managing misbehavior include (1) making discipline rules and not enforcing them; (2) yelling—the child learns not to listen unless somebody yells; (3) insulting and name calling, which only shame the child; (4) withdrawing privileges that have no relationship to the misbehavior; and (5) physically or verbally abusing the child. These strategies usually increase misbehavior rather than help the child learn how to manage difficult situations and emotions.
Many blessings come from raising a child with a disability. I realize the important role Nikki has played in my personal and spiritual growth. The experience has brought me to my knees on many occasions because I needed further instruction from a wise Heavenly Father. It has opened my heart to truths I had desired to better understand. I do not yet have all the answers to “Why me?” or “Why her?” I do, however, have an increased understanding of many principles—an understanding that is priceless to me.
One of the most beautiful realizations is the knowledge that my child’s spirit is not disabled. I have become aware that she experiences a rich spiritual life. She is often the first in the family to feel the presence of the Holy Ghost on sacred occasions. She frequently shares spiritual insights that her limited intellectual abilities could not have generated.
When Nikki received her patriarchal blessing, she was told she had been given this special experience in mortality because of the greatness of her soul. She helps others learn compassion and understanding. I am grateful for all the good she has done for our family as well as for many others. Nikki teaches us that love, kindness, and charity are not just for the swift or the strong, but they are also for those who struggle. I have the firm hope of an eternal relationship with Nikki. I know that when she is finally healed of her disability, I will learn yet more from the greatness of her soul.

Once, for instance, I prayed through the night to know what I was to choose to do in the morning. I knew that no other choice could have had a greater effect on the lives of others and on my own. I knew what choice looked most comfortable to me. I knew what outcome I wanted. But I could not see the future. I could not see which choice would lead to which outcome. So the risk of being wrong seemed too great to me.
I prayed, but for hours there seemed to be no answer. Just before dawn, a feeling came over me. More than at any time since I had been a child, I felt like one. My heart and my mind seemed to grow very quiet. There was a peace in that inner stillness.
Somewhat to my surprise, I found myself praying, “Heavenly Father, it doesn’t matter what I want. I don’t care anymore what I want. I only want that Thy will be done. That is all that I want. Please tell me what to do.”
In that moment I felt as quiet inside as I had ever felt. And the message came, and I was sure who it was from. It was clear what I was to do. I received no promise of the outcome. There was only the assurance that I was a child who had been told what path led to whatever He wanted for me.
I learned from that experience and countless repetitions that the description of the Holy Ghost as a still, small voice is real. It is poetic, but it is not poetry. Only when my heart has been still and quiet, in submission like a little child, has the Spirit been clearly audible to my heart and mind.

Illustrations by Sal Velluto and Eugenio Mattozzi
One autumn weekend, Wilford Woodruff traveled 20 miles to a nearby town to baptize a group of people. After the baptisms, he and his friends started the long journey home.
Wilford: We’d better head out quickly—it looks as if it’s going to rain.
They came to a river that had grown large and dangerous because of recent rain.
Friend: This looks too dangerous to cross.
Friend: Let’s search for a more shallow place.
As the group searched for a safer place to cross, a storm broke overhead. The wind started blowing hard, and rain poured down on them.
The group got more and more confused in the dark storm. Soon they couldn’t tell where they were going. They wandered through creeks and mud.
Wilford: This is dangerous, but I know Heavenly Father will help us.
Suddenly, the rain stopped and a bright light shone all around the group. It showed that they were on the edge of a cliff, and might have fallen off if they had gone any farther!
Friend: Where is that light coming from?
Wilford: I don’t know, but it’s showing us the way. I knew the Lord would preserve us.
The light continued with the group until they found the road. After that, the weather continued to be bad, but Wilford Woodruff and his friends didn’t care because they knew Heavenly Father was watching over them.
Wilford: Now we know that the Lord does not forsake his Saints in any of their troubles.
Friend: We truly have reason to rejoice!

One of our fine stake presidents shared with us the following experience:
“I remember a girl that I had gone to high school with. She was from a good LDS family, but when she was a junior in high school, she began to compromise her standards and principles.
“I remember how stunned I was one afternoon as a group of us were in the back of the bus, riding home from school, and we were talking about the consequences of sin or transgression. And she flatly announced that she wasn’t worried about committing any sin because her bishop had told her she could easily repent and could be quickly forgiven.
“Well, I was shocked with this flippant attitude that didn’t reflect any understanding of repentance and no appreciation of the miracle of forgiveness. I was also sure that she had grossly misunderstood the instruction and counsel of her bishop.”
Adultery, or anything like unto it, is abominable in the sight of the Lord. President Kimball also wisely observed:
“Among the most common sexual sins our young people commit are necking and petting. Not only do these improper relations often lead to fornication, pregnancy, and abortion—all ugly sins—but in and of themselves they are pernicious evils, and it is often difficult for youth to distinguish where one ends and another begins. …
“Too often, young people dismiss their petting with a shrug of their shoulders as a little indiscretion, while admitting that fornication is a base transgression. Too many of them are shocked, or feign to be, when told that what they have done in the name of petting was in reality [a form of] fornication” (The Miracle of Forgiveness, pp. 65–66).

That morning in stake conference the president with whom I had stayed was released after thirteen years of faithful service. There was a great outpouring of love and appreciation, not because of this man’s wealth, not because of his stature in the business community, but because of the great service he had unselfishly given. Without thought of personal interest, he had driven tens of thousands of miles in all kinds of weather. He had spent literally thousands of hours in the interest of others. He had neglected his personal affairs to assist those who needed his help. And in so doing he had come alive, and had become great in the eyes of those he had served.

A new president was installed that morning and there were many who were proud and happy concerning him; but most proud and most happy was a little man who sat at the stake clerk’s table, a rural mail carrier by profession. He it was who, twelve years ago, had with quiet, patient labor persuaded his totally inactive neighbor to come back into activity. It would have been so much easier to have let that indifferent neighbor go his own way, and it would have been so much easier of the mail carrier to have lived his own quiet life. But he had put aside his personal interests in the interest of another; and that other, last Sunday, became the honored and respected leader of a great stake of Zion. As the people sustained their new president, the little man at the clerk’s table wept tears of gratitude. In living beyond himself, he had brought to life the man sustained that morning as president of the Jerome Stake of Zion.