Gospel Story Finder

My mother also taught us to finish what we started. I took piano lessons as a child and gave my first public performance at a school recital when I was eight years old. I fell down as I was walking up the steps to the stage. I went ahead and performed my number, even though I was crying all the way through it. I had learned that you don’t give up, even when you’re discouraged. You see the job through.

November 4, 2011, changed my life. I was a senior in high school and was playing my last regular season football game. During a punt-return play late in the fourth quarter, I went to tackle a player on the other team and was knocked unconscious when his shoulder pad hit my face.
I woke up briefly minutes later only to slip back into unconsciousness almost immediately. It was clear, however, that my body was paralyzed. As paramedics prepared to take me to the hospital, my mom wanted to make sure my dad gave me a priesthood blessing. So he found the dad of another Latter-day Saint player and they gave me a blessing in the back of the ambulance.
Later that evening, I regained consciousness and slowly began to gain feeling in my body. When that happened, the hospital staff sent me home and told me nothing was wrong. However, my parents and I felt that there was still a problem, so I went to see a specialist.
After looking at my injuries, the specialist said, “I don’t know how you walked into my office today. You shouldn’t be able to move or even breathe on your own because of the severe problems in your spinal cord. Someone has been watching over you.” He told me how surprised he was that I was even alive and that I wasn’t paralyzed. I knew it was because of the priesthood blessing, and I was grateful my dad and my teammate’s father were both worthy and prepared to administer the blessing.
My recovery was still painful. I continued to see the specialist and began physical therapy. I struggled with severe pain and fatigue and was unable to attend school—I couldn’t even sit up by myself for three months.
The only thing that kept me going was the Spirit. As someone who’d been very social, it was hard to be home by myself all day while Mom and Dad were at work. I found comfort through the Spirit and through prayer and scripture study. The gospel kept me going. And I knew the priesthood blessing and the prayers of my friends (both Church members and friends of other faiths) helped.
After a few months, I felt strongly that I needed to return to seminary. And even though my medication made it extremely hard to get out of bed, I was determined to go. At first, seminary took all my energy for the day. But once I started going, my recovery time seemed to decrease, and I began to heal more quickly and to feel better. This was a miracle to my family and me.
Two years later, I can now run, jump, and move around with little pain.
I know that Heavenly Father, Jesus Christ, and angels were watching over me the night of the accident. I’ve felt the power of the priesthood so strongly because I received a blessing from worthy priesthood holders. That, combined with the pattern of personal prayer, scripture study, and seminary attendance I’d established before the accident and have continued after, helped me through the healing process.

Some of us are held captive by the misunderstanding that God rewards righteousness with wealth, luxury, or ease and that God punishes wickedness with disappointment, sickness, or other trials.
A kind nurse saw a child, through no fault of his own, covered by grievous burns. A clinical expert, the nurse knew the excruciating pain third-degree burns cause. She said no loving God would allow an innocent child to suffer such pain.
Then the nurse testified, as she was praying in anger about how unloving and unfeeling God was, she saw in her mind our Savior. He was weeping. Our Savior was weeping with her for the child.
The nurse understood. While omnipotent, our Heavenly Father does not cause or make all things happen. In our limited perspective, we may ask why God allows bad things to happen to good people. But a more complete or eternal perspective helps us understand “bad things” and “good people” with different eyes. After all, the Lord told the Prophet Joseph “all these things shall give thee experience, and shall be for thy good” (D&C 122:7).

I recently met a young missionary who is a great example of the sacrifice and gratitude Elder Bednar describes. Elder Rabemananjaina is from the town of Toamasina in Madagascar and is a very recent convert who was the only one to join the Church in his family. After his conversion, he desired to serve a mission and discussed this with his branch and district president. Although it would have been easy for the branch president to simply submit this eager young convert’s mission papers once he expressed the desire, these wise leaders taught the good young man the importance of making a meaningful personal sacrifice of time as well as money. So they agreed on a personal goal for how much he would earn before submitting his mission application. He then diligently and very willingly spent the next year working hard in various jobs and was able to save the money needed to meet the goal. Elder Rabemananjaina’s mother is not a member of the Church but is very proud of her son and knows how hard he has worked for the privilege of serving the Lord on his mission. When the mission president visited her following a devastating cyclone which severely damaged her home, he was deeply touched to see that one of her remaining prized possessions was a copy of the area plan, proudly displayed on the wall alongside a photo of her missionary son.
This well-prepared missionary did not hesitate when his priesthood leaders told him he needed to wait and work to demonstrate meaningful sacrifice for the privilege of serving the Lord. Now he is full of enthusiasm and gratitude to be sharing the gospel of Jesus Christ in his own country.

I have a daughter who is serving a mission. The day after we talked to my daughter on Mother's Day, she was hiking with other missionaries and hurt her leg. During our initial conversations with the mission president's wife, we were told that she would be sent home to recuperate. In a journal entry, my daughter wrote:

"The very first thing I remember saying after the accident and blessing was, "I just want to stay on my mission. ...I have not yet finished the work God has given me to do here in Arizona as a missionary. There are people to meet, souls to save, others to serve, and many to learn from." Later, when I got the ok to stay on my mission, I was filled with such joy; even greater than when I received my call. At this point for me, there is no greater call than to serve as a full-time missionary. MY HEART IS FULL."[22]

She also used the experience to get additional teaching opportunities. Of her rescue, she said:
"They hooked me up in a harness and sent me up 60 feet. I had had only one dose of ibuprofen right after the blessing, but I was so alert and pain free that the paramedics decided not to drug me up for the ride as they ordinarily would have done, so I got to enjoy it! From there they rearranged the system to make it a zipline down off the mountain to the cars. News travels fast in such a small town and by this time, I had quite the audience. The most exhilarating part was the initial push they gave me from a sit down position off the edge of the cliff. In that moment, I felt the seat of my shorts catch on something and could have sworn I heard a rip. So, it was rather embarrassing to think that my shorts were ripped open as I was flying over half of Safford, all of whom were taking lots of pictures. However, as I had seen countless times that day, God takes care of His missionaries and when I got to where I could look at them [the shorts], I couldn't even find a snag. As I watched them all take pictures, I called down to them that pictures of me came with a fee of inviting a friend to listen to the missionary lessons. My story of an LDS missionary [having to get rescued] had made it to the local newspaper, radio, and news channels. I hope at least one companionship finds someone new to teach because of it."[23]

Darren, a fine priest, enjoyed a high adventure at Philmont Scout Ranch in New Mexico, where he backpacked with other Explorers on a scenic mountain trek. Here is his account in his own words:
“The scenery on the trek was beautiful and wildlife was abundant. Among other animals, we saw beaver, snakes, deer and even a bear cub. In addition, we climbed Mt. Baldy, a 12,000-foot peak, at 4:00 in the morning to be on top for sunrise. I reached the top feeling like I had really accomplished something. We were the highest thing around and could see for a hundred miles. Sunrise was spectacular, and the view was magnificent.
“And yet, that wasn’t the highlight of the trip. It was great and wonderful; one of the most fantastic moments in my life. But the highlight of the trip came not standing on a peak over 12,000 feet high but in a small meadow in the shade of aspens, kneeling in a bed of ants with a log in front of me to use as a sacrament table, blessing the Lord’s sacrament as Jesus had done long ago.
“As I knelt on that mountainside in New Mexico to participate in blessing the sacrament, it came to me, more forcefully than ever before, the importance of this sacred ordinance.”

Meagan Hansen (15) remembered the first time her family took him walking at the track. “There is a chain that prevents people from driving cars onto the track. My Dad asked Fernando, ‘How do you get over that?’ ‘I jump,’ he answered. Dad gave him a look, and Fernando said, ‘Seriously.’ So we wheeled him up to the chain and waited to see what he would do. He just lifted the chain up and rolled under it.”

Conner Hansen (8) said, “Sometimes I think my problems are really bad, but when I look at Fernando’s problems, I don’t complain.”

The Hansens add, “No matter what comes up, we don’t miss walking with Fernando. He’s amazing! He helps us keep an eternal perspective. It’s the best thing we do each month.”

Fernando works hard every single day to improve. “I always believed I would get better. I just take it one day at a time.”

“In time he will get better,” Talmage Hansen (11) declared. “He believes it, and so do I.”

Having so many friends in the ward who love and help him, and knowing that he is an invaluable influence in their lives, has helped Fernando continue trying. His strong spirit and testimony have spiritually strengthened those who have helped him strengthen his physical body.

Fernando may have to wait to serve a full-time mission, but he is touching the lives of the Primary children in his ward right now by his example of faith, patience, and trust in the Lord. And they are touching his with their patience, love, and service. “I hope that the children know that they really can help others,” he said.

After I finished high school, I worked at a meat market to support myself and help support my family. The Korean War was going on, and each ward could send only a certain number of young men on missions. One day while I was working at the market, I sat down to rest for a few minutes. I was alone, and the Spirit came over me and told me that it was time for me to commit to serve a mission. The next Sunday I told my bishop that I wanted to do so. He said that the quota for missionaries from our ward had just been increased by one. I was that one. Because I listened to the Holy Ghost, I was able to serve a mission, and my mission was the turning point that has led to everything else good in my life.

A poignant example of this was recently shared with me. In 1892, a young 18-year old student at Stanford University was struggling and pondering how he could pay his fees. He was an orphan, so he had no family financial assistance. He and a friend came up with the idea to host a musical concert. They contacted the manager of a well-known pianist, J. Paderewski, and it was agreed that he would perform for a fee of $2000. The young men did their best to make the concert a success, but in the end, they only raised a total of $1600. Apologetic and humbled, the two young men approached Paderewski with the concert receipts and a check for the balance of $400. Giving it all to him, they promised to honor their check as soon as possible. Paderewski, however, refused the money, telling the young men to take the money, pay off all concert expenses, use what they needed for their fees, and only then, give him any remaining balance. This small act of kindness is confirmation that man is often put in situations to help their fellow men if they choose to do so, much like the new convert from Hawaii who helped my great, great grandfather many years ago.

This story with Paderewski does not end there. He later went on to become the Prime Minister of Poland at a time when his country was suffering terribly. The World War had devastated his homeland so that over a million of his people were near starvation. He reached out to the U.S. Food and Relief Administration for help, which was headed by a man named Herbert Hoover. Hoover immediately proceeded to ship tons of food relief to Poland. Prime Minister Paderewski journeyed to personally thank Hoover. When they met, Mr. Hoover waved the thanks aside, saying, “You shouldn’t be thanking me, Mr. Prime Minister. You may not remember this, but several years ago, you helped two young students go through college. I was one of them.”8

I want to share a beautiful story about one who faced his own Garden of Gethsemane—one of your friends, Mick. He served a mission in Japan. After he returned, he earned a B.A. in political science at this great university. And he served as president of your Cougar Club. He married and had two sons.

He was active in sports and was very talented in every way when he was in school. When he had almost graduated from law school, he went to work as a clerk for a prestigious law firm in Nebraska. At their summer office garden party a tragedy occurred. The party was in a well-to-do neighborhood, and the houses bordered a man-made lake. Many people were swimming and boating on the lake. Mick decided to go for a swim and dove into what proved to be a shallow spot. He lost consciousness and someone was administering mouth-to-mouth resuscitation when the paramedics arrived his neck was broken, and his whole body was paralyzed. He could not move any part of his body below his neck. He required special equipment just to fill his lungs with air.

Someone asked how much he had had to drink. A friend replied, “Oh, he hadn’t been drinking. He’s a Mormon.”

His doctor said he did not expect him to survive such an injury. He told the family he would be lucky to make it through the first night. Now, five years later, Mick Boyle has made it through much more. He has overcome tremendous odds, has survived emotional and physical pain and suffering.

Determined to graduate, Mick resumed studying in his hospital bed in the intensive care unit at the University of Utah Medical Center only three weeks after the accident. He studied eight to ten hours each day. His fellow law school students at BYU brought tapes of lectures, notes, and textbooks to him every day. He also studied from a flip-chart, and he simply had to wait until someone came by that was nice enough to help him find the proper pages. He went through that kind of a condition.

In the spring of 1978, Mick graduated from the J. Reuben Clark Law School with members of his own class. Shortly thereafter he passed the Utah Bar Examination and became a licensed practicing attorney. He went right to work at the Legal Center for the Handicapped in Salt Lake City. In eighteen months he handled approximately 80 cases, always representing handicapped individuals in need of legal assistance.

To add to his turmoil and pain, his wife decided he was not to be her eternal companion, took the two babies, and left. That was a great shock to Mick, but he never ever complained. He said to the Lord, “Thy will be done.” He insisted on serving the Lord. Then last spring the Lord answered his prayers. His former nurse came one day and knocked on his door and they became congenial friends. One day, Shirley expressed so beautifully, “I want to be your eternal companion.” What a beautiful story!

Two weeks ago I asked Shirley to bear her testimony in stake conference. She gave a most beautiful testimony. There was not a dry eye in that conference. My brothers and sisters, Mick continued on. Someone asked him, “Don’t you ever get depressed?”

He answered, “Oh, sure, some days I can get very depressed. However, I know there is a lot of work to be done, not only for others, but also helping myself to get well, and I must prepare to meet my Savior.” Brothers and sisters, don’t you think this is our goal, to prepare ourselves for the day to come?

Mick works hard at getting well. He has faith and keeps a positive attitude about his situation all the time. He exercises every day and maintains contact with the doctors. He has recently made a most astonishing improvement and breakthrough.

When I returned home from the audition tour we had less than a year to financially prepare for our German adventure. We had moved in with my parents in Denver to save every penny possible. There were five plane tickets to purchase and, after our arrival in Europe, a car to buy and an entire house to furnish. How in the world could we earn that kind of money in such a short period of time?

Our middle son, Ethan, was in the second grade when he learned of our impending move. He and his older brother, Todd, had seen old paintings of snowy German towns with mosaic cobblestone streets upon which horse-drawn carriages were pulled. One afternoon as they asked a few questions about our upcoming move, it became touchingly apparent to us that they thought we would be moving to a place with no electricity and that our only means of transportation would be horse and carriage. Ethan excitedly came home from school one day. He had mentioned to his teacher that his Dad was an opera singer and that we would soon be moving to Germany. That evening his teacher called and asked me if I would visit his class and introduce the children to opera.

I thought, “No problem. I’ll just sing a couple of arias and answer a few questions.”

Several days later, however, the principal called and asked if I would present the program to the entire student body.

“Well,” I thought, “I guess Jeannie and I will really have to prepare something now.” That “something” evolved into an elementary school assembly program that we called “What Is Opera Anyway?” Its popularity increased as it was promoted by newspaper and word of mouth until nearly every school district in the greater Denver area requested our services. We tallied our earnings just before leaving for Europe, and—gratefully, miraculously—we had more than enough to finance our move and necessary purchases.

Through all these difficult experiences, I kept praying, and I could feel the comfort I was promised by the Spirit in a priesthood blessing I had received. One day I dared to ask the question, in prayer, “Why do I feel so alone?” And I received an answer or, rather, a promise—that I would make new friends, friends who would understand me.
And I did! I made new friends, some who aren’t members of the Church but who still respect and love me. I also made friends in the Church who have become like family to me.

When I was president of TransCanada Pipelines, we had an office boy who did only what we asked him to do. He would wait until called to run an errand, or stand around waiting for instructions, never offering to be helpful. As the company grew and the job became more than he could handle, we hired another lad, even younger, who was alert and always looking for extra things to do to be helpful. He would finish an errand and then see or ask for something else to do. In just a few months one of the departments wanted him for a position of greater responsibility, and within two years he had three advancements, salary increases, and more responsibilities. The other lad remained an errand boy.

I’m going to tell you about the time I was chosen to be on the Belchertown, Massachusetts, all-star basketball team. Basketball season had just ended, and my team had been fantastic! We’d lost only one game and won ten! The best players among all the teams were chosen for the all-star team by the recreational department.
When I was told that they wanted me to be an all-star, I was so excited that I couldn’t believe it! Then they said that most of the games were on Sundays but were scheduled for the afternoons so that people could go to church in the mornings.
My parents said that I could make the decision whether or not to be on the all-star team, but they reminded me of our family goal to follow the prophet. I knew that President Hinckley would expect me to make the right decision and keep the Sabbath Day holy. I called the recreation department and thanked them for asking me to be on the all-star team, then told them that I wasn’t going to play on Sundays because of my religious beliefs.
I really wanted to be on the all-star team and was so disappointed that the games were on Sunday. But I know that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ are happy with me, and I know that I did make the right choice.

As they translated, Joseph and Oliver were struck by these teachings. Like his brother Alvin, Joseph had never been baptized, and he wanted to know more about the ordinance and the authority necessary to perform it.8
On May 15, 1829, the rains cleared and Joseph and Oliver walked into the woods near the Susquehanna River. Kneeling, they asked God about baptism and the remission of sins. As they prayed, the voice of the Redeemer spoke peace to them, and an angel appeared in a cloud of light. He introduced himself as John the Baptist and placed his hands on their heads. Joy filled their hearts as God’s love surrounded them.
Illustrations by Ben Sowards
“Upon you my fellow servants,” John declared, “in the name of Messiah I confer the Priesthood of Aaron, which holds the keys of the ministering of angels, and of the gospel of repentance, and of baptism by immersion for the remission of sins.”9
The angel’s voice was mild, but it seemed to pierce Joseph and Oliver to the core.10 He explained that the Aaronic Priesthood authorized them to perform baptisms, and he commanded them to baptize each other after he departed. He also said they would receive additional priesthood power later, which would give them authority to confer the gift of the Holy Ghost on each other and on those they baptized.
After John the Baptist left, Joseph and Oliver walked to the river and waded in. Joseph baptized Oliver first, and as soon as he came out of the water, Oliver began to prophesy about things that would soon happen. Oliver then baptized Joseph, who rose from the river prophesying about the rise of Christ’s Church, which the Lord had promised to establish among them.11
Following John the Baptist’s instructions, they returned to the woods and ordained each other to the Aaronic Priesthood. In their study of the Bible, as well as their translation of the ancient record, Joseph and Oliver had often read about the authority to act in God’s name. Now they carried that authority themselves.
After their baptism, Joseph and Oliver found that scriptures that once seemed dense and mysterious suddenly became clearer. Truth and understanding flooded their minds.12

A few weeks ago our youngest son and his wife and family stopped to see us. The first one out of the car was our two-year-old grandson. He came running to me with his arms outstretched, shouting, “Gwampa! Gwampa! Gwampa!”
He hugged my legs, and I looked down at that smiling face and those big, innocent eyes and thought, “What kind of a world awaits him?”
For a moment I had that feeling of anxiety, that fear of the future that so many parents express to us. Everywhere we go fathers and mothers worry about the future of their children in this very troubled world.
But then a feeling of assurance came over me. My fear of the future faded.
That guiding, comforting Spirit, with which we in the Church are so familiar, brought to my remembrance what I already knew. The fear of the future was gone. That bright-eyed, little two-year-old can have a good life—a very good life—and so can his children and his grandchildren, even though they will live in a world where there is much of wickedness.
They will see many events transpire in the course of their lifetime. Some of these shall tax their courage and extend their faith. But if they seek prayerfully for help and guidance, they shall be given power over adverse things. Such trials shall not be permitted to stand in the way of their progress but instead shall act as stepping-stones to greater knowledge.

A few months later, things indeed became more painful for the Saints in Missouri. Mobs were starting to attack more frequently. They were even destroying crops and buildings.
One day Mary Elizabeth and her younger sister Caroline were near Brother Phelps’s printing office when a mob began destroying the press and dumping large piles of printed paper out the window. Mary Elizabeth recognized the paper right away. The men were destroying the Book of Commandments!
“Caroline, we must save those papers,” Mary Elizabeth whispered. “Follow me.”
“They will kill us,” Caroline said. “But I will come.”
Waiting until the men had turned away from the girls, each sister grabbed a large armful of papers and began running toward a cornfield. The men saw the girls and began to chase them, yelling at them to stop. The girls ran into the tall corn, laid the papers on the ground, and lay on top of them to protect them. The sisters could hear the men crashing through the corn stalks nearby. Mary Elizabeth and Caroline’s hearts pounded, but to their relief, the girls were not found.
After waiting in the corn for a long time, the sisters carried the papers back to the printing office. They were grateful to be safe and that they had helped the Lord’s work.

Eric couldn’t stop grinning as he walked off the soccer field, the field where his team had just won the league championship. Eric was hot and tired but he knew he had played his best.
As he picked up his bike, he thought of his dad’s familiar words: “Not much of what is important in life comes easily,” his father said. “Our effort puts a shine in things—such a shine sometimes that they glow for years and years in our hearts.”
“This game will definitely glow for years!” Eric thought.
“Hey, Eric!” a voice called from behind him. He turned around and grinned at his teammate, Clay. “Where are you going?” Clay asked. “The victory party is at the coach’s house.”
“I can’t go,” Eric said. “I promised Davy I’d come over right after the game. I was going to spend the rest of the day and evening with him.”
Clay looked upset. “How much fun can you have with someone who’s sick all the time, and can’t even leave the house? We just won the championship, Eric. Isn’t that worth something?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Coach said a reporter is coming to the party. He’s going to take our pictures and interview us. We’re going to be in the newspaper!”
Eric’s eyes widened. “Really?” Clay’s excitement was contagious. “I guess I could just see Davy later tonight,” he said.
“You can’t,” Clay said. “Don’t forget the coach said if we won the game he would take us on an overnight campout to Big Bear Falls. Well, the campout is tonight. You don’t want to miss out on that, do you?”
“No way!” Eric said.
“Davy’s just a sick kid with nowhere to go and nothing to do, except ruin somebody else’s fun,” Clay said, spinning a soccer ball on his finger. “Come on, Eric. It’s time to celebrate!”
Eric eyed the spinning soccer ball. The more he looked at it the more his mind began to spin, and he got caught up in the moment. “OK, let’s go!” he said. He jumped on his bike and headed across the field toward the rest of his team.
During the reporter’s interview, Eric looked at the clock in the coach’s living room. It was three o’clock. He had promised Davy he would be to his house by one. He knew Davy would be disappointed. He always looked forward to Eric’s visits with excitement. But because of school, homework, soccer practice, and family and church activities, it was hard for Eric to spend a lot of time with Davy. But today Eric was going to spend the whole afternoon and evening, and Davy had been marking off the days on the calendar for weeks.
The reporter asked each boy how it felt to be part of a winning team. When Eric’s turn came, he didn’t answer. He was thinking of the time he and his father were hiking in the Big Bear Mountains. They had come to a three-way fork in the trail and had to decide which path to follow. “Like most things in life, Eric,” his dad said, “it comes down to choices. It’s getting late, so …”
Eric studied the three paths. One was overgrown and hard to see in the evening shadows. It looked jungly and mysterious. The second was straight, narrow, and clearly defined, but uninteresting. The third trail was wide and curving with room to wander.
“What will it be?” Eric’s dad asked.
“The wide one, I guess,” he said. “There are lots of turns so it will be more exciting, not knowing what’s ahead.”
They started down the path, but 20 minutes later it ended at the edge of a cliff. Below them in the distance they could make out the small lake where their family had set up camp. Shadows crept across the woodlands below and the sun had sunk behind the mountains.
“Now which path, Eric?” his dad asked.
“How about the jungly one?” Eric suggested. “It looked cool.”
They made their way back to the original path, then started down the dark, overgrown trail.
After a few minutes, though, the path was lost in the tangles of underbrush. “What do you think we should do now?” Eric’s dad asked. “It’s getting dark and we’re no closer to camp than we were two hours ago.”
Eric pulled a thorn from his shirt and rubbed a scratch on his arm. “I guess we better get back to the path we were on in the first place.”
His dad nodded, and the two started back. They finally set their feet back on the original path and faced the trails at the triple fork. It was dark now, but the stars lit up the final path. “What do you say we take that third trail, Eric?”
Eric glanced around uneasily at the darkening woods and took hold of his father’s hand. “Yes,” he said. “I can see the path clearly because it’s straight, and it’s narrow so we won’t wander off it.”
As they made their way through the night, Eric’s dad spoke up. “The Savior said that we should always take the straight and narrow path for the very reasons you pointed out. We can clearly see our way and won’t stray from the path unless we choose to. This path is like the iron rod in Lehi’s dream, isn’t it? Straight and true. And look,” he said, pointing toward the stars. “They light the path, like the prophets we have to guide us back to Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ.”
They paused on a small knoll above the lake, and looking down they could see a glowing light in the darkness where Eric’s mother had started dinner over the campfire. “Kind of looks like the tree of life in Lehi’s dream, don’t you think?” his dad asked. “A welcome sight to any weary, faithful traveler on the road of life. And just like the food your mom is preparing, the Lord has filled His living tree of life with sustenance to nourish our spirits and lift us up in our darkest hours.”
Eric squeezed his father’s hand, and his eyes filled with warm tears.
“What are you crying for, Eric?” Clay laughed. Eric looked around and suddenly realized he was still in the coach’s living room surrounded by his teammates.
The reporter quickly wrote on his notepad and said, “It’s his way of saying what it feels like to be part of a winning team.”
“What it is,” Eric said, “is my knowing that I want to be a part of another winning team, as well.”
The boys looked confused. “Another winning team?” one of them blurted. “What team is that?”
Eric whispered something to the coach, waved good-bye, and left the room.
“What did he say, Coach?” Clay asked.
Their coach smiled. “He told me the name of the other team he wanted to be a part of—the Lord’s team. And he said to be a part of it, he needed to be somewhere else. Any of you boys know where that is?”
“Davy’s place, I think,” Clay said slowly.
The coach’s smile deepened.
Two weeks later, Davy passed away quietly in his sleep.
A few weeks after that, Eric and his father were hiking in the Big Bear Mountains. When they reached that familiar triple fork in the trail, Eric paused and studied the straight, narrow path. He took his dad’s hand and they stood quietly for a few moments.
“Which path do you want to take, Eric?” his dad asked.
“The straight and narrow one, Dad,” he said.
“You’re sure?” his father asked, smiling.
“It’s one thing I am sure about,” Eric smiled back. “It is the right way.”

When I was about 14, my mother and father were divorced. There were seven children left at home. Little or no child support was ever paid. I watched my “champion” mom put on heavy shoes with metal toe protectors, dress like a workman, and go out to Garfield smelter to work so she could earn enough money to support our family. The poor woman would get ready for work at about 9:30 P.M., catch a bus at 10:00, work all night until 7:00 A.M., return home, and be there about the time we got up to go to school. During the day she would wash and iron, bake bread, fix meals, clean the house, and always be up when the children were home. I don’t know how she did it.
Now some of you will never have to experience conditions like that in your home. But let me say here, one of the highest places I have ever walked is in the shadow of a great mom who forgot her embarrassment and womanly image to simply support a large family until they came of age. I saw an older brother who grew up fast and was able to go to work at age 14 in the Bauer Mines near Tooele because he was large of stature. He became the masculine image to all of us who were his younger brothers and sisters.
It is no wonder that I love work. My wonderful mother taught me how to work, and when I did get a job, I knew the family was depending on me to hold it.

With the help of my mother and sister, I painted a banner for the Relief Society sports festival held in our stake. My mother recommended me to the Relief Society president, who asked me to make their banner for them. I accepted their request and started to make rough sketches. Through the combined efforts of my family and me, we were able to create a beautiful work of art that represents the theme, “Find Nobility in Motherhood and Joy in Womanhood.”