Gospel Story Finder

David worked hard in physical therapy because he was determined to serve a mission. Some of his friends said serving a mission wasn’t necessary since he was in a wheelchair, but David didn’t agree. “I knew the Lord wanted me to serve,” he says, “so I decided I would do everything in my power to make it possible.”
Soon he could shower and dress himself, drive his car, and take his wheelchair just about anywhere. In fact, after his doctor said it was impossible, David even learned to put on a brace and walk with crutches by moving his shoulders to push his body forward. For someone with no sense of balance or ability to feel the ground under him, this was an incredible feat.
After high school 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.
“I was crushed,” says David. “I had worked so hard, and it seemed it was all taken away from me in just a matter of seconds.” But David didn’t quit. In an interview at Church headquarters, he was assured 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, Utah, while living at home with his parents. David was not prepared for such a call. “To tell the truth, I was disappointed again,” he says. But he kept thinking of the words to a Primary song: “I will go; I will do” (“Nephi’s Courage,” Children’s Songbook, 120–21). He realized the Lord wanted him to serve at Deseret Industries, a Church-owned thrift store and job-training facility. At D.I. David would help those who were working to gain and improve their job skills.
“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 more than 250 people he worked with through D.I.’s self-sufficiency and missionary programs. “Whenever we were having a bad day, we would 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 would ask ourselves, ‘What are we complaining about?’”
As a missionary, Elder Eves spent mornings tutoring trainees who were working on their high school certificates or an equivalent diploma. “I could not have passed my math section without him,” says Brandy, a single mother working to improve her employment skills.
But David’s tutoring wasn’t just about teaching educational skills. He also taught the missionary discussions to Rita Roberts, another trainee. “He helped me understand the gospel step by step,” Rita says. “And I knew I could count on him for anything. He and his family helped me move twice. You couldn’t find a better person—not just in the classroom, but anywhere. He’s unique.”
Besides tutoring staff members, David was responsible for many devotionals at D.I.
“One day it was Elder Eves’s turn to give the devotional,” says Sister Scott, another welfare missionary at D.I. “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.”
David loved serving at D.I., but his missionary efforts didn’t stop there. In the evenings, he team taught with full-time missionaries. These efforts resulted in several conversions, including one young woman who asked him 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 1 January 2000, Elder Eves sat in his shower chair in the font, 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 wherever he is. And his sense of humor puts others at ease. “If others see me joking, they are more comfortable around me,” he explains. “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 D.I. deal with, 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 currently attends college on a full scholarship and exercises 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. And he says it with the same confidence with which he bears his testimony.
“I love 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.”

Grady Grimshaw was always grumbling. He grumbled when Mom served her latest creation for dinner: barbecued tuna pizzawiches. He grumbled when Dad told him to make his bed. He grumbled when his little sister tied bows on his fierce stuffed gorilla. And he grumbled when he walked Pepper, the dog, and she had to stop and sniff at every bush and mailbox.
Grady was always grumbling.
One sunny day while Grady was dutifully walking Pepper, he passed the house of Mrs. Sherman, who was outside weeding her rose garden. “Hello there, Grady,” she called to him, pushing back her floppy sun hat. “Lovely day, isn’t it? Would you like to take a rose home to your mother?”
“Roses make me sneeze,” Grady said, walking on.
As he neared the Cooper home, he saw Mr. Cooper fixing his lawn mower. “Hi, Grady,” Mr. Cooper said. “Nice dog you have there.”
“She has fleas,” Grady said, not stopping for a second.
Then he came to the Parnell house. On the porch, asleep in a chair, was a tiny woman he had never met. Her white hair was pulled into a tight little knot at the top of her head, and she wore a big plaid flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Every breath she took ended in a high-pitched whistle.
Grady wished he could whistle like that.
The woman suddenly opened one eye. “What are you staring at?” she demanded crossly.
Grady jumped. “I—I’ve never seen you before.”
“Well, I’ve never seen you before, but I’m not standing around gawking, am I?”
“No, ma’am.”
The woman closed her eyes again. Grady hesitated, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
The woman’s eyes flew open, “Goodness, child, are you still there? What is it you want?”
“Aren’t you going to tell me what a nice day it is—or that you like my dog?”
The woman peered up at the sky. “Clouds. It’ll probably rain. And I don’t like dogs. They stink.”
“Pepper doesn’t stink,” Grady said defensively, “at least, not unless you get real close.” He plunked himself down on the porch step. This was not at all the way most adults he knew acted.
The woman sighed. “Who are you, anyway?”
“Grady Grimshaw.” He pointed. “I live down there, in that brown house.”
The woman raised herself up a little. “That corner house? How dreadful! I lived on a corner once. All the neighborhood kids trekked through the yard on their way to school and killed the grass and dropped things. Had to put up a big old ugly fence.”
“I like living on the corner. I get to live on two streets instead of just one.”
“Well, I’d rather live on my own one street, thank you very much,” the woman said. She reached for a glass of water on a nearby TV tray.
“What’s your name?” Grady asked as he handed her the glass.
“Dinah. Dinah Parnell. Only I’m never in the kitchen, and I don’t know any banjo players, so don’t sing that old song at me.”
“I won’t.” Grady felt Pepper tugging impatiently on her leash. “I guess I’d better go,” he said, standing up.
“Yes, I guess you’d better.” Mrs. Parnell closed her eyes. “But you can come back sometime, if you want.”
Grady was thoughtful as he and Pepper headed for home. Mrs. Parnell sure was different from most other ladies he knew.
Mom was putting the finishing touches on a sardine and broccoli casserole, and Grady got out the plates to set the table without even thinking about grumbling. “Mom, have you met that Mrs. Parnell lady?”
“Dinah Parnell?”
Grady nodded.
“Yes, I have. Did you meet her just now?”
He nodded again. “She doesn’t seem very happy.”
“Well, she’s not, really,” Mom said, putting the casserole into the microwave. “She’s Mr. Parnell’s mother, and she’ll be staying there awhile because she isn’t well. I think it’s hard for her to be away from her home. She’s lonely.”
“She sure grumbles a lot.”
“I think she could use a friend.”
Grady thought about that for a moment. His face brightened. “Would you help me make some brownies tomorrow after school so I could take some over to her?”
“Of course—that would be nice, Grady.” Mom smiled. “Here, would you stir this orange juice for me, please?”
Grady took the pitcher and was so busy thinking about Mrs. Parnell that he didn’t grumble this time, either.
The next day, Grady took a plateful of warm brownies to Mrs. Parnell. She only managed a “Humph!” when he came up the porch steps, but she listened when he told her about the bee that had gotten loose in class that day, and she only grumbled about the rain and the price of tomatoes in the grocery store.
A few days later, Grady went to see her again. He told her about his bicycle accident, and she showed him the scar on her hand from when she had fallen off her horse many years ago. He complained about the boy at school who fell on the cupcake Grady’d taken in his lunch, and she told him about the girl in the third grade who used to call her “Curlilocks” in front of everybody, so she’d put a rubber snake in the girl’s book bag and the girl yelled and then they both started laughing and became good friends. This time Mrs. Parnell only grumbled about how her eyes didn’t work very well anymore. Grady got her favorite book from inside and read to her.
Grady liked visiting Mrs. Parnell. He started looking for other grumblers who needed to be cheered up, too, and pretty soon, he decided that instead of a grumbler, he would be a grinner. He grinned when Mom served oatmeal turkeyburgers for dinner. He grinned when Dad told him to put away his toy cars. He grinned when Pepper shook water all over him after her bath. And he grinned when his little sister pushed the two-million-piece puzzle he had been working on for three weeks off the table.
(Well, that last one wasn’t quite a grin—but it wasn’t a very loud grumble!)

As a young boy living in Mexico, I was given the job of watching our cattle in the field as they grazed. One day I became bored with this chore and went to play, leaving the cattle unattended. I played all day, returning to my chore only when it began to get late.
As I approached the field, I realized that the cattle were gone! I could picture my father’s face—how disappointed and angry he would be! I was his eldest son. He had taught me to be responsible, and he was proud of me. How would he feel about me now? Quickly I searched for the cattle from one end of the field to the other. I couldn’t find them anywhere!
As I wondered what to do, I remembered something my father had taught me—if I ever needed help, I could pray to my Father in Heaven, and he would help me. I needed help then! I knelt and asked Heavenly Father to help me find the cattle. Then, sure that I would find them, I searched again.
But the cattle were nowhere to be found! I became angry. I had prayed, as my father had taught me. Why hadn’t Heavenly Father answered my prayer?
I stormed home. I had almost forgotten about the cattle and how upset my father would be. I wanted to know why my prayer hadn’t been answered. My father listened patiently as I explained what had happened. In his wise way, he asked me what I would have done the next day if Heavenly Father had helped me find the cattle. “Would you leave the cows again, thinking that your Father in Heaven would find them for you?”
After some thought, I replied, “Yes, that is probably what I would do.”
My father told me to kneel again—this time to ask for forgiveness and to promise that I would never again leave the cattle to go and play. I did as he said. Then, humbly, I once more asked Heavenly Father to help me find the cows. With my father by my side, I returned to the field and found the cattle there.
I learned an important lesson that day. Heavenly Father does not give us what we want just because we want it. He answers our prayers when we have done our part. And he answers them in a way that will help us become better people.

With a day in Rome we wanted to devour all of the great works of art that we could possibly see. We began at Vatican City. So much beauty is in that place, it was impossible to digest it all. As we left the Sistine Chapel, our guide asked us if we had noticed the floor. Only a few had done so. The awesome beauty of Michelangelo’s artwork on the ceiling was so tremendous that many of us never looked down.

Then a once in a lifetime experience. We walked into St. Peter’s Basilica and sang. It is the first time any BYU choir has done so.

Tour groups walking through stopped; even their guides, who are usually caught up in the tape recorder-style recitation of facts and history, stopped and listened. In this cathedral, the very center of the Catholic church, the message of the restored gospel was sung to many people. What an experience to sing in such a building!

Our final concert was held in the beautiful city of Florence at the Duomo, the third largest cathedral in the world. But this cathedral is different. The beauty is on the outside, where the entire surface is tiled with different colored marble. Inside it is very plain, and we were told it was done this way so that people would not be distracted when they were worshipping.

One priest was so moved by the concert we gave there that he asked us to sing for the mass which followed. It was thrilling to sing to our brothers and sisters as they worshipped the Lord in their manner.

We poured all of our love we had learned in Israel into the songs we sang. Singing from behind the congregation, we created a spirit not felt by these people before. The mass ended, and we sang, “Come, Come, Ye Saints!” Never before have I heard it sung with more power and conviction. The spirit created was indescribable.

One small, frail woman worked her way, cane in hand, through the crowd and in broken English synthesized the feelings of our entire tour: “You sing. You love.”

Two days later, the Willie company had to travel the most difficult part of the trail, going over Rocky Ridge, in a freezing storm. The last of them didn’t reach camp until 5:00 the next morning. Thirteen people died and were buried in a common grave.
On November 7, the Willie company was nearing the Salt Lake Valley, but that morning there were still three deaths. Two days later, the Willie company finally reached Salt Lake, where they had a marvelous greeting and were welcomed into the homes of the Saints.

Clay, Ron, and Dean proved themselves to be young men of action and compassion as they rescued a young woman from her burning car.
Returning home from a movie, the trio discovered the burning, wrecked car on the freeway exit. The driver was seriously injured, unable to move, and calling for help. Bystanders were doing nothing.
Ignoring personal risk, Clay approached the car and was forced back. “I backed off once,” he said. “I was afraid it was going to blow up. She was kind of groggy and she said, ‘Help me, please, someone help me.’
“The second time, I just said to myself, ‘It’s for her good. If it blows up on me, that’s it.’” With that thought, Clay helped the badly injured woman out of her car. With a compound ankle fracture, she relied on Clay to carry her to the curb.
Meanwhile, Ron used the fire extinguisher from his car to attack the flames. When that and another extinguisher provided by a bystander failed to completely douse the fire, Ron and Dean ran to a pay phone and called for paramedics. Arriving police and firemen completed extinguishing the fire.

“Brother Ng,” the man’s voice began. Being addressed as “brother” by a gwailouh (foreigner) caught Ng Kat Hing’s attention. A group of clean-cut Americans wearing dark suits had wandered into the furniture store where he was employed, and their unusual appearance fascinated the 25-year-old Hong Kong native. But he was even more intrigued by being called “brother.”
When Ng Kat Hing questioned them about the title, one of the Americans, who wore a name tag identifying him as President Heaton, asked, “Do you believe there is one Father in Heaven?”
When he nodded, the man continued, “Then we are brothers, and I will call you that.”
Forty-three years later, Brother Ng still recalls his response. “I was touched, and in that moment, a little bit of the restored gospel was manifest to me. I wondered about it all that day and through the night. Four days later when the man called back to confirm the furniture order, I knew I wanted to know more.”
Although Grant Heaton, president of the newly opened Southern Far East Mission, was merely looking for advice about teakwood furniture that August day in 1955, he found much more than that in Ng Kat Hing. He found a language teacher, a convert, a missionary, a Church leader—a true pioneer.
“Brother Ng and his family are real pioneers of the Church in the Hong Kong area,” remarks Elder Jacob de Jager an emeritus member of the Seventy, who, while President of the Asia Area, worked closely with Brother Ng. In fact, Brother Ng was Elder de Jager’s Cantonese teacher. “He has great experience and wisdom and reaches out to people in a natural way. This was especially evident when Brother and Sister Ng were serving as temple missionaries in the Taipei Taiwan Temple, where they were of great help to the Cantonese-speaking members.”
Reaching out to people has always been one of Brother Ng’s talents. In fact, it was his willingness to serve others that put him in even closer contact with the missionaries. After ordering furniture for the mission home, Brother Ng agreed to help President Heaton find someone to teach Cantonese to the missionaries. He talked to several friends, but none of them could help. So he quit his job at the furniture store and taught the missionaries himself. Married and the father of four young children, Brother Ng took a cut in salary with the job change. But he believes it was well worth it.
“I learned the truth,” Brother Ng states simply. “That was a good deal, right? Nothing is more important than that.”
The men took turns learning and teaching. Brother Ng presented basic language lessons, and the missionaries taught gospel discussions. At that time, investigators were taught a total of 18 discussions, so Brother Ng went through several sets of missionaries before hearing all the lessons.
“It took quite a while,” he acknowledges, “but by the time I was baptized, all my questions were answered. I had a strong foundation and a strong testimony.”
Brother Ng was baptized on 31 May 1956. He was one of the first converts after missionary work resumed in Hong Kong following the Korean War.
But Brother Ng’s search for truth had started years earlier. His grandmother, a Buddhist, had begun attending Christian churches shortly before her death, and Brother Ng often accompanied her. “I was looking for a god who was different than the one I’d been taught about while growing up,” he remembers. “But the pastors and preachers at those meetings were difficult to approach, and they were more concerned with donations than with answering my questions.”
Brother Ng’s questions went unanswered until he met the missionaries. “From the beginning, I learned about our Father in Heaven and his son, Jesus Christ. The missionaries taught of our relationship to these beings. And they continually talked of being children of God,” he remembers.
The gospel changed Brother Ng’s life. “My wife tells me I was entirely different after joining the Church,” he says, laughing. “My temper became smooth. My finances were better because I paid tithing. I didn’t worry about food or shelter because I kept the commandments. A happy life followed.”
After seeing the difference the gospel made in her husband’s life, Sister Ng Pang Lai Har also investigated the gospel. Missionaries often visited their home, teaching her husband one of the new member lessons, then teaching her one of the 18 discussions.
Ten months after her husband’s baptism, Sister Ng was baptized. Brother Ng had the privilege of baptizing their seven children as they reached age eight.
Brother Ng’s family is important to him. His dark eyes sparkle as he speaks of the joys of being a husband, father, and grandfather. Highlights of Brother Ng’s life include the temple marriages of all seven children as well as the sealings of each of the children to him and his wife.
“We were not sealed to all our children at once,” he explains. “Traveling to the temple, either in Tokyo or in the United States, was very expensive.” After saving for years, Brother and Sister Ng were sealed in the Provo Temple in 1974. Subsequent temple trips have strengthened the couple’s dedication and commitment to temple work. From 1986 to 1987, they served as missionaries in the Taipei Taiwan Temple.
The high point of their temple service is their most recent calling—president and matron of the Hong Kong Temple, dedicated in May 1996.
“My wife and I were thrilled with the announcement of the temple. We were planning on becoming temple workers, maybe even working three or four times a week,” President Ng says. “We’ll work more than that now!
“I was frightened with the calling at first and very humbled. I had feelings of unworthiness. But after praying, I felt confident that Heavenly Father would give us the spiritual strength and guidance we need to fulfill this calling. We are so grateful for this opportunity.”
President Ng’s service in the Church actually began before his baptism. In addition to teaching the missionaries, he helped translate Church materials, and he was serving as an assistant in the branch Sunday School superintendency when he was baptized. Since his baptism, he has served at various times as branch president, district president, stake president, stake patriarch, counselor to the mission president, and regional representative.
To each calling, President Ng has brought a lively wit and loving warmth. Individuals matter to this leader, who hopes to see the Church grow in Hong Kong.
“There is much pressure and stress in life,” observes President Ng. Concerns about the future, coupled with materialism, which often exists in a growing economy, are challenges that members deal with daily. “Everyone is working so hard for money. We often spend so much time worrying about temporal things. The gospel brings a balance,” President Ng explains.
President and Sister Ng worked together to establish balance in their home. They worked out a plan and followed it closely. They emphasized wise use of financial resources, family unity, and Church activity. “We made time for our children, for each other, and for Church callings,” he continues. “People say they have no time, but that is just an excuse. They have the time for the things that are important in their lives.”
Another thing President Ng has always made time for is missionary work and watching the gospel affect others’ lives the way it has his own. He knows the impact of our knowledge of a loving Father and a worldwide family.
“We are all brothers and sisters,” testifies President Ng. “We need to share that knowledge with others so they can join our family and we can welcome them home.”

A story of the honesty of one of my ancestors has made a great impact in the lives of thousands of people who knew him—and still echoes in the minds and hearts of our family members after 128 years. My great-grandfather Georg Wolf was the leader of a group of Hungarians who immigrated to Brazil in 1891. Upon arriving at the designated Brazilian port, the mayor of that city gave him two thousand réis (the local currency at that time) and some machetes. With those resources this small group of people expected to open a 60km way through the dense Atlantic forest, where they would find the piece of land granted by the government for them to settle.
The money given by the government did not have to be accounted for, as it was a grant. However, since it was not all used to buy the necessary supplies for the group’s journey and settlement, my great-grandfather decided to go back to the mayor and return the unspent portion. Everyone in the community was quite surprised, as this group was starting a new life from ground zero in a different land and the unused money could bring them much more immediate comfort in their travels. But being honest and having peace of mind was more important to my great-grandfather.
Years later, that settlement became a prosperous region of the country with subsequent great spiritual and temporal blessings that continue in the lives of thousands today—including my own family.
I learned from my great-grandfather’s integrity that there are special temporal and spiritual blessings that can only be obtained as we are honest with men.

It all started one summer night when I was talking with my best friend, Terry.
Terry was a little older, so he would be going on his mission sooner than I. He was talking about his mission, when it suddenly dawned on me, Hey, that’s going to be my situation real quick.
I had always been active in the Church. I’d always toed the line and been very obedient. But still the thought hit me like a thunderbolt: You think you’re so good, but where are you with your testimony?
What was I going to do? I realized I needed to read the Book of Mormon. But I was the type that liked to have it quiet, and I was the oldest of six children. We were pretty rowdy in a small house and a small yard. There was no secluded grove in our neighborhood. My first consideration was to find a spot where I could get away by myself.
A few years before, my dad had bought a used limousine because we had a big family and it had an extra row of seats. The car had been out of commission for a while and was parked in back of our house under our old basketball standard. Inside that car was the only place I could think of to go where I could have some quiet and solitude while I read the Book of Mormon uninterrupted.
I don’t remember exactly what part I was reading when this good feeling came over me. I was overcome with emotion, with tears running down my cheeks. This was unusual for me. I couldn’t imagine crying over something I read in a book. I felt this overwhelming peace and reassurance, knowing that I was receiving communication from Heavenly Father. I had no doubts. I knew that the Book of Mormon was the word of God. And I knew I was ready to go on my mission.

Eleven-year-old Beth Burroughs pulled the reins gently but firmly to the right and guided her horse, Ebony, down the side of a rocky dry wash. The homemade wreath of flowers she had slung over the saddle horn bounced as she maneuvered her animal down the little zigzagging ravine. By taking this route, Beth would save herself a good mile and a half of riding time on the road. She had to get to Heaven’s Gate Cemetery and back home so that she could help her mother with the wash.

The predawn light had turned the mist that hung over Hampton Lake into silver lace as Beth galloped along its south shore. Her horse was starting to show signs of strain, so she decided to pull up and let him rest.

Looping the reins about a large dead limb that protruded from other woody shore rubble, Beth knelt at the water’s edge and gazed at her rippled, distorted reflection. If it had been someone’s first view of her, she thought, she would have been as badly misrepresented as Rebecca had been.

Ebony lifted his dark head, shook his mane, and went back to drinking. Beth gazed fondly at him a moment, then her eyes returned to the rippling water. She remembered her father talking about the worth of the individual soul, about how each person that ever was, is, or ever would be is a child of God and therefore special in his or her own way. He said that no one should judge anybody else by appearance because his character, like his soul, is inside and can only really be seen by Heavenly Father.

But somehow, Beth painfully recalled, her father’s teachings had been hard to put into practice whenever Rebecca was around—until the day of the field mouse. …

Ebony lifted his head again, his thirst now satisfied. Beth lingered a minute or two, watching her reflection clear and sharpen in the settling water. Then she remounted Ebony and continued down the road.

Mr. Flannagan chugged by in his Model T, waving and honking as he traveled in the opposite direction. Such a noisy, happy machine, Beth thought, then decided she was wrong. Machines might be noisy, all right, but they didn’t have feelings. People could feel happy. She had been happy, very happy in the time she had spent with Rebecca after the day of the mouse’s burial. Beth had made more and more visits to the yellow house on Banberry Road. She and Rebecca had helped Sister Johnson bake cookies, walked the fence in the big grassy field just down from Tucker’s Mill, and lain on their backs, watching the clouds sail wildly by in the yellow sky.
Rebecca had a smile for everyone, a smile, Beth was sure, that could light up the world. She was like a little child. But had not the Savior Himself taught that “of such is the kingdom of heaven”? Beth hadn’t minded the funny looks some of her old friends gave her every now and again after she became friends with Rebecca. Her real friends respected her for her feelings. Besides, she knew Heavenly Father approved, and He was her most valued friend.

As Beth’s horse clip-clopped past the bright red covered bridge a half mile from Heaven’s Gate Cemetery, she couldn’t help but think about Rebecca’s death a year ago. Rebecca had disappeared into a neighbor’s burning house and lowered a small child out a window into someone’s waiting arms just before a section of roof collapsed on her, burying her beneath the fiery timbers.

Beth laid the homemade wreath of flowers on Rebecca’s grave. A couple of minutes later she again climbed onto Ebony’s back and rode out of Heaven’s Gate.

The sun seemed to perch on top of the mesa as horse and rider turned up the little treelined path toward home.

“Did you have a good ride, honey?” Beth’s father asked as he stepped from the barn, leading a plow horse.
“Sure did,” Beth replied, walking her horse toward him. “There’s a lot to see when the sun comes up. First you see a little of this, then a little of that. Pretty soon everything is all lit up as pretty as can be. As pretty as a good memory. As pretty as Rebecca Johnson.”

My friend’s father worked as a mechanic. His honest labor showed even in his carefully washed hands. One day someone at a temple told my friend’s father he should clean his hands before serving there. Instead of being offended, this good man began to scrub the family dishes by hand with extra soapy water before attending the temple. He exemplifies those who “ascend into the hill of the Lord” and “stand in his holy place” with the cleanest of hands and the purest of hearts.

The Johnson farm in Hiram, Ohio, is much the same as it was 150 years ago. The white frame house faces a wide front lawn on a quiet back road in the Ohio countryside. In 1832, a real mob stormed down that road. They broke into the house and dragged the Prophet into the nearby fields. They beat him, choked him, scratched him, smeared him with tar and feathers, and tried to force liquid tar down his throat.
After the mob left, Joseph stumbled back to the house, where Emma fainted at the sight of her husband. In the dark, the tar looked like blood. For the remainder of the night, friends helped Joseph remove the tar and clean his wounds.
Tired, sore, and ill, he still stood the next morning on the front steps of the Johnson home and preached a sermon. Present in the crowd were some of the men who had been in the mob the night before. But the Prophet did not mention what had happened. Instead, he told about the glorious things that God had revealed to him.

While on a family vacation, we got separated from my dad and little brother. It was getting dark. The rest of the family didn’t know what to do. I told them we should pray. We said a prayer, and then we started to walk to some other stores. We looked up the street and saw my dad and my little brother! I was happy. I knew that God loved us and helped us find our dad.
Oliver P., age 8, São Paulo, Brazil

When I was just a young girl, I became seriously ill. Each day the illness became increasingly severe. Nothing the doctor recommended helped. At that time the dreaded disease of polio was raging in almost epidemic proportions in the land. It was taking the lives of many, and those who didn’t die were often left crippled.
One night my illness became critical, and my father and grandfather administered to me using consecrated oil, and through the power of the holy Melchizedek Priesthood, which they held worthily, they called upon God for healing, help, guidance, and comfort. And then my parents took me to a doctor in another town who immediately sent us to the hospital—two and one-half hours away—with the admonition to hurry. I overheard the doctor whisper that he was certain it was polio.
When we finally arrived at the hospital in Salt Lake, there were medical personnel waiting for us. They grabbed me from my parents’ arms and whisked me away. Without a word of good-bye or explanation, we were separated. I was all alone, and I thought I was going to die.
Following the painful diagnostic procedures, including a spinal tap, they took me to a hospital isolation room, where I would stay by myself with the hope that I would not infect anyone else, for indeed I did have polio.
I remember how very frightened I was. It was dark, and I was so sick and so alone. But my parents had taught me to pray. I got on my knees, and I knelt beside the railing in the criblike bed and asked Heavenly Father to bless me. I was crying, I remember. Heavenly Father heard my prayer and sent His comforting power, which enveloped me in quiet love. I felt the power of the Holy Ghost, and I was not alone.
You too are loved by the Lord. You are loved more than you will ever know. He wants you to be successful in your life’s mission! You don’t have to face the experiences of this life alone, nor have you been sent here to fail.

My neighbor Marriner Rigby is 95 years old. Several years ago he was in a parking lot when a distracted driver backed over him, crushing his left leg. After six weeks of rehabilitation, he could walk again with the aid of a walker. He began walking up to a mile each day. He was joined by 84-year-old Ron Bracken, who had visited Brother Rigby in the rehabilitation center despite dealing with stage 4 bone cancer himself. Since neither of them had a ministering assignment, they decided to minister to each other while walking in the neighborhood.

They talked about everything: faith, finances, families, future plans. Oh yes, future plans. They were realistic about their ailments but motivated each other to pursue future goals. Then again, it wasn’t so much what they talked about as it was just being together. They made time for each other.

The spirit you bring from your service in the temple will touch many within your circles of influence—some you may not have even considered. At the conclusion of one of our visits to the temple in Washington, D.C., the group of members shared testimonies as the bus rolled across the miles toward home. One after another, participants shared their joy and gratitude for the immediate and eternal blessings of the temple. Our nonmember bus driver finally couldn’t stand it any longer. He grabbed the microphone and expressed appreciation for being with us. He then said, “I don’t know what you people have, but I feel something different here.” Of course, a ward mission leader on the bus got his contact information and later gave it to the missionaries.

In the Central Valley of California, there are 44 teenagers who will never forget the city of St. George, Utah, with its hospitable people and its beautiful white temple.
The youths’ 18-hour stay there was the culmination of six months of planning, hard work, and cooperation between the youth and adults of the Tulare Ward (Visalia California Stake) and those of the St. George Second Ward.
The moment the weary travelers arrived at the Second Ward chapel after their 500-mile journey, they were met by an enthusiastic crowd of St. George youth who immediately sought out, tagged, and friendshiped each California teenager. Together these new friends shared the experiences of that day and the next. The anticipation of their meeting and their bond of common beliefs seemed to create an instant, comfortable friendship on both sides.
After an official welcome by Bishop Ross Taylor, the young people toured the tabernacle built during the same period in which the temple was constructed. Everywhere there was evidence of pioneer skill, artistry, and devotion.
Following the tabernacle visit, the group toured the Brigham Young Winter Home and caught a glimpse of the life of that great prophet and the times in which he lived.
After dinner in the homes of their hosts, the youth met at the templegrounds for the long-awaited tour. A lovely scene met their eyes. To one teenage girl, Shawna Brown, “the temple stood out like a gleaming jewel, shining forth with the Spirit of the Lord.” In this small, quiet town was the most magnificent building most of them had ever seen, a great sparkling building surrounded by deep-green lawns, a building normally brilliant white, bathed now in the golden glow of a setting sun. As the young people joined the long lines of those waiting to enter, they huddled for warmth in the unfamiliar chill of the southern Utah evening.
Inside there was peace and calm and cheerfully whispered “hello’s” between the white-clothed temple workers and the awed young visitors.
“What impressed me most,” said Julie Peterson, a convert of one year, “was that the workers in the temple were so at peace and so nice. I want to work there when I become older. Most of all, I know that I’ll marry in the temple, no matter what!” Liz Myers, a young investigator, commented, “It was beautiful, just walking through. It made me feel so clean inside. It was a great feeling!” Michelle Meadows said that being in the temple felt to her “like a little bit of heaven on earth—it was so peaceful and so beautiful.” As the group was passing through the last sealing room, one of the workers whispered to Claire Forman, “This is where you’re going to be married.” She answered, “Oh, yes!” Now, recalling that experience, Claire says, “There is no way I would even consider marrying outside the temple.”
The tour was over too soon. Too soon they stood once more outside the great building looking up at its inscription, “Holiness to the Lord.” But the influence of those few minutes may never end. To David Anderson, it brought greater meaning to going on a mission, coming back to get married for time and all eternity, and living a righteous life.
“We realized,” said Ruben Ruiz, “that the temple is the house of the Lord and that it was built for a purpose. We realized that the work done in the temple is sacred and that you need to be worthy to enter.”
Following the temple visit, the combined fireside in the Second Ward cultural hall concluded the evening. Three young St. George couples related the strength and meaning that temple marriage had brought into their lives.
The final event of the trip occurred the following morning among the red sandstone cliffs of Snow’s Canyon. Never had pancakes—complete with juice, bacon, and eggs—tasted so good. Following breakfast, the youth—lured by the cliffs around the little tree-and-sagebrush-covered valley—clambered up the sloping walls, which seemed almost stair-stepped for their benefit. Campers who chanced to be in the canyon that morning must have been startled as the hills literally burst forth into song. The final rendition was “I Am a Child of God,” sung by the Tulare teenagers from their mountaintop loft to their bishop, who stood looking up from the sands below. It was an impromptu, heartfelt expression of their love for him that neither he nor they will ever forget.
As the two groups exchanged addresses and goodbyes—the St. George youth to return to what was left of their late October Saturday, and the California young people to their journey home—no one doubted that all were spiritually richer than before. Bishop Taylor said that because of the enthusiasm of the California youth in their desire to visit the house of the Lord, the hearts of those in St. George had been reawakened to a remembrance of the great blessing of the temple and the particular privilege of living within its very shadow.
The feelings of all might be best summed up by the statement of Tulare’s Laurel class president, Karen McPherson, as she bore her testimony in sacrament meeting the day after the trip: “Bishop Dredge has been pounding into us for years, ‘Get married in the temple! Get married in the temple!’ And now I know why!”

“Sometimes you have to find peace within yourself,” said Rieko Ishikawa, 18, of the Tokyo Eighth Ward. “I live in downtown Tokyo. Whenever I go to stations or anywhere in the heart of the city, I find it very noisy. But where I live, we are close to the high buildings, so it is relatively quiet. You learn to enjoy the parks. You learn to enjoy friendly people. And with the gospel you know that you always have something good to share.
“For example, at school I know my friends would love the Church if they only understood it. So when we had a play at the ward, I took flyers and handed them out to my friends. They wanted to know where to come to see the plays. So I got to tell them where our chapel is, and that let me tell them a little about the Church.
“When I meet others at church, I find so many fine brothers and sisters, including our bishop, who show their love toward people around them. I am really happy to be among such exemplary people.”

I was so happy to see the way dating before the age of 16 was handled in the July 1995 Q&A. I’m 15, and this past year I was faced with the opportunity to date. I knew it was wrong, but I gave in to the temptation. I told myself that it was okay because the guy that I was seeing was also LDS. I thought that once you had a boyfriend, all of your problems would be solved. They weren’t. In fact, I had more. My testimony was slowly disappearing. I hardly ever felt the Spirit, and I found myself making mistakes that I never would have before. It was a hard four months, but after we broke up life got even harder. I was so upset, and I felt so distant from the Holy Ghost. Finally I gave up my pride and turned to my Heavenly Father. The process has been long and hard, but well worth it. Now I feel closer than ever to my Savior. I know that he will always love us and guide us through anything if we will humble ourselves and ask for his help.
Name Withheld

I know that Heavenly Father answers prayers. When my family lived in Germany, we went on a Volksmarch in our village. Volksmarch is where friends and neighbors enjoy time with each other by going on a nature walk together. My parents said that I could walk ahead of the group with one of my friends, and we started out on the long trail.
After a few minutes I could not see anyone in my family. I told my friend that I was going to stay on the trail and wait for them. Soon I could no longer see my friend or her family, and my parents still hadn’t come. I was all alone in the forest, and I felt scared. I decided to say a prayer that someone would find me.
In another part of the forest, my dad felt the Holy Ghost telling him, “Go look for your son.” He felt how much I needed him, so he turned right around and told my mom that he was going to look for me. A few minutes later my dad came running up the trail where I was waiting and found me. I was so glad to see my dad! When he told me about having a strong feeling that I needed help, I knew that Heavenly Father had answered my prayer.
I am so glad to know that wherever I am, I can talk to Heavenly Father. He will help me find my way.