Gospel Story Finder

My memories of childhood in a small farm town in northwest Florida are recollections of difficult times. When I was six years old, my father was blinded in an accident. Already motherless, I had to take over the responsibility for cooking and housekeeping in our home. It was not easy, but we got by. Although I attended the church we belonged to, I was never really much of a joiner, so I was often left out.
A few years went by and my brother—just seventeen years old—went to Vietnam as a soldier. The next year my father was killed in another accident. I was the one who found his body crushed under a car, and I thought I was going to lose my mind. Soon my sister and I had to appear before the county judge and were told that no foster home had been found for us. That meant we would have to go to an orphanage. But before that could happen my sister married, and shortly afterward I married Ben. Opportunities for a young married couple in our area were limited, so when Ben’s uncle came down from the north to persuade us to move to Indiana, we went. We were very unhappy for a long time. There we were, all alone, a thousand miles away from home and everything we knew.
In this state of mind, I was dismayed when I received a letter from my sister and learned that they were expecting a child. I had already made up my mind that I would never have a baby. I was very bitter about life, and I didn’t want to bring a child into the world to grow up like I had.
Soon, though, I began to feel an ache inside that I did not understand. I needed something—something of my own to have and to hold onto. So eventually I changed my mind and decided to venture into motherhood—still unsure and scared, but a little excited too.
I was very sick the whole time, and I wondered at times about my decision; but when the nurse laid my baby in my arms for the very first time, there was no more doubt. We named him Bill. He was so beautiful, and I loved him so much I nearly burst. He became my whole life—not just a part but the sum total, all I lived for. I had Ben too, but I suppose my experiences up to that point had led me to a vague (and in this case, unfounded) uneasiness about the permanency of anything in this life. But Bill I was sure of. He was mine.
Our circumstances improved, and at last we were able to buy a mobile home. And it was our good fortune to move into a mobile home park next door to a Latter-day Saint family. They were very friendly and often urged us to go to church with them. I felt that I needed God for my child, so I was glad they kept asking until we gave in.
It happened that our first meeting was a fast and testimony meeting. I was a little bewildered by this new experience, but not Ben; he was converted on the spot. We received two missionary discussions in the next two weeks. Then on Saturday, 28 February 1970, we had three more discussions and were interviewed and baptized that same night.
Six days later, on 6 March 1970, my whole world came apart. My child was lying in a coma in a hospital and no one could help him. He was dying.
I’ll never forget that awful day as long as I live. March 5 had been a beautiful day. The sun shone and it seemed as though the whole world was ours. We had everything I had never had as a child—security, health, love, and now the Church. Little Bill was just nineteen months old, and that evening he had so much fun at the birthday party we held for his grandma. He was so happy, he ran and played and had a good time. Then in the wee hours of the sixth I awoke to the sound of Bill choking and crying. I ran to his room and there he lay, a tiny bundle of tears. He had turned nearly black, and foam was pouring out of his mouth. He was so hot to the touch that I had to wrap him in a blanket to even hold his little body.
We rushed him to the emergency room at the hospital, where we could do nothing but wait while the doctors ran tests and worked frantically to save his life. Finally our doctor came and told us that Bill’s temperature was 108 degrees. He said they could not find any cause for our baby’s frightful condition. He sent for the best baby specialist in the state. He, too, was baffled. Later in the morning we were taken into his office where he told us there was nothing he could do, that the fever would not break. My whole world was dying. I can’t recall those last hours too clearly, but I do know that I felt alone again as I had when I was a child
Ben was called away to talk to someone, and I was all by myself. I phoned my friend and told her Bill had only a few hours to live. Then I went to his room. He was so little, so very beautiful, and so still.
I sat down next to his bed, feeling numb at heart. And as I did, a feeling came over me that I cannot describe—a feeling of complete peace, the like of which I have felt only one other time, in the temple of the Lord the day our family was sealed for time and all eternity. It fell on me with such force that I was stunned and shaken. Then I looked up, and there standing at the door was a man I recognized as one of the high priests from our ward. I didn’t know his name, but I knew why he was there. I reached over and picked up Bill from the bed. He awoke when I touched his body. He looked at me for one short second, and smiled.
The man at the door said, “I am Brother Walters. The Lord has sent me to administer to this child.” Because Bill had been placed in isolation, the nurses wouldn’t let more than one visitor at a time into the room; so Brother Walters had to leave his companion in the hallway. He anointed Bill with oil and then laid his hands on his head and blessed him with health and strength—and that he would be made whole that very day.
Shortly afterward the doctor returned with a paper for me to sign. It was an autopsy consent. I refused, and he said he would be back. Ten minutes later I looked up to see my child sitting up, completely well! He climbed out of bed as if nothing had ever been wrong and padded out into the hall as fast as his little legs would carry him—his usual speed. He ran up to the doctor and grabbed him around the legs. The doctor, who was always composed and cool, looked down in astonishment. Then he picked Bill up and came running down the hall to me, laughing and crying at the same time. He shouted, “It’s a miracle!”
I agreed.
I don’t know who called Brother Walters to administer to Bill. I only know he was sent by God.

One day at church, we learned a neat lesson about our spirits. I liked it so much that I wanted to go to church a lot more. Now I like every part of church. Every week, I ask how many more days until we go to church. My mom or dad will tell me, and if it is a long time, I am sad. If it is soon, I am happy. Before all this happened, I did not like church. But those days are over. When you go to church more, you learn a lot more. I love church. It is great!Eric Longley, age 8Pearland, Texas

After shopping for groceries, we drove to the pharmacy in Eureka, California—our last stop before heading home to Willow Creek, about an hour away. The pharmacy, however, was closed for lunch. While we waited, my daughter Shae asked if we could drive to Humboldt Bay.
The four of us, including my daughter Tess and her husband, Patrick, grabbed lunch, drove to the nearby bay, and stopped in the parking lot that runs parallel to the bay. That January day in 2021 was overcast and chilly. From our four-door pickup we watched a bird feeding, diving toward the bay and then rising again.
We’d been there less than five minutes and had barely begun to eat when we heard the whining of a speeding car engine. I remember thinking, “Who in their right mind is driving so fast with people all around?”
The road to the bay ran by the parking lot as it turned north. I didn’t locate the source of the engine noise until I saw a gray pickup sailing through the air toward the water. The pickup had missed the turn, sped over a sidewalk, smashed a light pole, and launched into the air. I watched the pickup sail over the shoreline and clear an old pier as it flew toward the water. It was like a scene out of a movie or TV show.
Without speaking a word, we threw open our pickup truck doors and jumped out, groceries spilling onto the parking lot asphalt. Then we ran to the water’s edge just after the pickup splashed hard into the bay. We were close enough to see that the pickup’s driver was staring blankly through the windshield.
As I watched him, I thought, “He’s not moving! He’s not going to get out of that pickup! Something is horribly wrong!”
I had a feeling that I needed to help the man, that I needed to “go and do” (1 Nephi 3:7)—now! The windows of the pickup were rolled up, so Tess and I looked in vain for a rock big enough to break the driver’s side car window. Then she and Patrick called 911 while Shae gathered up our groceries.
Growing up in Willow Creek, I had driven the curvy roads along the Trinity River every day. I had often thought about how scary it would be to go off the road and into the river. What would I do? How would I get out? I would not want to die that way, and I could not let the man in the pickup die that way.
Under normal circumstances, I would never have gone into the bay. But my only thought was, “The driver needs help, and I’m supposed to help him!”
For some reason, I had no fear. The next thing I knew, I was wading in the chilly water, still wearing my pants, shoes, and a pink sweatshirt.
I’m a big girl, and when I waded into the water, I heard someone say, “She’s going to have a heart attack!” I ignored him. After taking 10 steps, I began swimming toward the pickup, about 30 yards (27 m) away. When I reached it, the engine compartment was sinking, but the water was still below the door handle. I tried but could not open the door.
“Open the door or roll down the window!” I called to the driver. “Are you ready to get out of there?”
No response. He just stared straight out the windshield.
I kept talking until he finally turned his head toward me. He gave me a confused smile as if to say, “What are you doing here? What’s going on?”
As the pickup slowly sank, the man continued to sit motionless. My mind raced as I wondered how to open the door or the window. Suddenly and miraculously, the driver’s side window lowered—by itself! I have no idea how it came down, just as I then had no idea how to get the man out of the pickup. I thought about waiting for help, but I heard a loud gurgling sound as water rushed into the cab. I knew I couldn’t wait for help.
I quickly pulled myself up on the door, got halfway into the pickup, reached across the driver, and unbuckled his seat belt. I grabbed him and pulled with all my strength. I got him out of the window and held him up as water sucked the pickup down.
God knew our hearts, and He knew we would go and do what we could to help one of His children.
I didn’t know how deep the water was, and I couldn’t see the sunken truck. But while treading water, I kicked the truck’s hood. I tried to stand on it but kept slipping off. On one of my unsuccessful attempts to stand, I found the truck’s antenna. I held on to it as I secured a foot against a windshield wiper.
Just then another swimmer arrived. A minute later, a boater who had seen the accident maneuvered his craft to us and threw us a rope. Pushing and pulling, the three of us got safely onto the boat. Later, when I took off my pink sweatshirt, Shae pointed out that I had somehow cut my arm from my elbow to my wrist.
I feel that my family was at Humboldt Bay that day to help that man. I don’t pretend to know God’s mind, but I believe that when bad things happen, He expects us to act. I also believe that God gives us experiences and puts us in positions to bless His children. I was raised by a mother who took us swimming and taught us about water currents. We learned to respect but not fear the water. Most important, we learned to help others in need.
We were where we were supposed to be that day—in the right place, at the right time. God knew our hearts, and He knew we would go and do what we could to help one of His children.
The author lives in California.
Editors’ note: Seven months after Hiedi helped rescue Eric Floyd, the driver of the pickup truck, he died of causes unrelated to the stroke he had suffered that day in January 2021. “I wept when I found out that he had died, but I was grateful that he had a little extra time after his accident to spend with his family,” said Sister Johnston, whom witnesses called the “Lady in Pink.” On March 7, 2021, Humboldt County supervisors presented her with the Carnegie Medal for her heroism.

Not long ago I had an opportunity to speak in Portland, Oregon. Lo and behold, in the audience was my former bishop, Raymond Kirkham. He was my bishop when I was an Aaronic Priesthood boy. I had the courage to call on him—and you know that can be risky, to call on a bishop who remembers you when you were a boy. I reminded him as he took the pulpit, “Remember, I am the last speaker.”

He got bold and told those young people of some interesting experiences involving my youth. He said, “I knew this young man was destined for a position of leadership. He is the only deacon I ever had who, after passing the sacrament, could crawl under a bench and get out the back door before I recognized he was gone.” He said, “I knew he was going all the way, because he took the whole quorum with him.”

Now you young priesthood bearers, I have repented; and I am grateful for bishops who stood at the back door and redirected my paths.

Every single day, in rain or snow or darkness, she makes the trek back and forth. Just facing the ice-coated trail on a cold winter morning might make most teens think twice—or three times—about making the trip to Mutual activities or even to Sunday meetings. Not Ella. If it’s a Church activity, she’ll find a way to be there. When she had the opportunity to attend the dedication of the Anchorage Alaska Temple, she, of course, walked the mile and a half from her house to the road, caught the ferry to Skagway, got a ride with other branch members across the pass to White Horse, then boarded a chartered bus for the trip to Anchorage—hours and hours of traveling to experience something as special as the dedication of a temple.

Jillayne Cozzens’s value project makes baptisms even more special for girls turning eight in the Moab Utah Stake.
“I was taking a sewing class and wanted to do something for a value project. So my mom and I put two different patterns together and designed a frilly jumpsuit for the girls to wear. I made four outfits over the next month,” she says.
Soon afterward, a friend’s niece was baptized in one of the outfits. “She was so excited to have something feminine to wear that didn’t float up,” Jillayne says. “Value projects are really cool. I have done five of them and learned so much.”

Before leaving Nauvoo in the winter of 1846, President Brigham Young had a dream in which he saw an angel standing on a cone-shaped hill somewhere in the West pointing to a valley below. When he entered the Salt Lake Valley some 18 months later, he saw just above the location where we are now gathered the same hillside prominence he had seen in vision.
As has often been told from this pulpit, Brother Brigham led a handful of leaders to the summit of that hill and proclaimed it Ensign Peak, a name filled with religious meaning for these modern Israelites. Twenty-five hundred years earlier the prophet Isaiah had declared that in the last days “the mountain of the Lord’s house shall be established in the top of the mountains,” and there “he shall set up an ensign for the nations.”
Seeing their moment in history as partial fulfillment of that prophecy, the Brethren wished to fly a banner of some kind to make the idea of “an ensign for the nations” literal. Elder Heber C. Kimball produced a yellow bandana. Brother Brigham tied it to a walking stick carried by Elder Willard Richards and then planted the makeshift flag, declaring the valley of the Great Salt Lake and the mountains surrounding it as that prophesied place from which the word of the Lord would go forth in the latter days.

One ancestor comes to mind who followed the teaching of Jacob in the Book of Mormon on seeking a hope in Christ first then riches to bless his fellow men. First the scripture, then the story of Joseph and Polly Knight.
"And after ye have obtained a hope in Christ ye shall obtain riches, if ye seek them; and ye will seek them for the intent to do good-to clothe the naked, and to feed the hungry, and to liberate the captive, and administer relief to the sick and the afflicted." (Jacob 2:19)
"Joseph Knight, Sr. (1772-1847) was a close associate of Joseph Smith, Jr. who provided significant material support to Joseph's translation and publication of the Book of Mormon. Joseph Knight was born in Oakham, Massachusetts. In 1795 he married Polly Peck. They moved to Colesville, New York in 1808. He first met Joseph Smith when he was working for Josiah Stowell. Smith's courting of Emma Hale was helped by Knight lending him his sled. The Smith's also borrowed Knight's wagon when they went to pick up the Golden Plates from the Hill Cumorah. Knight was baptized on the 28th of June 1830. All his children, their spouses, his sister, and three of his wife's siblings along with their spouses all joined the Mormon Church. They constituted the Colesville Branch which latter migrated as a group to Thompson, Ohio and then Jackson County, Missouri.
"Knight and his family were driven from Jackson County in the Mormon persecutions of 1832-1833 and eventually settled in Caldwell County, Missouri. They were driven from this county in the winter of 1838-1839 and settled shortly latter at Nauvoo. They again were driven out with the Saints in 1846. Knight died at Mt. Pisgah, Iowa on the 2nd of February, 1847." (Wikipedia)
The sweet story of peace and hope isn't with Joseph alone, but with his wonderful wife Polly. Polly was just as interested in what Joseph Smith taught. She joined the Church at the same time as her husband. She witnessed the devastation of her son Newell being possessed by an evil spirit. She witnessed the first miracle as Joseph cast the spirit out. In New York Polly and Joseph lived comfortably, however driven by the hope of Zion they moved on to Kirtland where they lived in near poverty before moving on to Missouri. Polly became very ill as they traveled from Ohio to Missouri and it became obvious that she was going to die. Her last wish was that she could live long enough so that she could be buried in Zion. Her wish was granted, her health improved just slightly, once they arrived she passed away. She became the first saint to be buried in Zion in the latter-days. Her devoted husband purchased lumber for a coffin for his dear sweet Polly. She was then buried in the frontier, on the edge of the Missouri River. Her hope of Zion was not only a legacy for her descendents, but for all of us.

As a young teenager I read one day in the Book of Mormon about Lehi’s dream, and I considered Nephi’s description that “the whiteness [of the tree] did exceed the whiteness of the driven snow” (1 Nephi 11:8).
I thought, How did Nephi know what snow looks like?
I understood that Nephi had grown up in Jerusalem, which has a Mediterranean climate, and that he had traveled through a desert and across an ocean to the tropical jungles of America. I thought, Nephi never saw snow—he could not know what snow looks like!
That thought troubled me; it appeared to be an inconsistency in the record, a possible evidence that the Book of Mormon was not true. With my young, developing faith, that was an earth-­shaking thought.
This issue nagged at me, but over the next ­several years I reread the Book of Mormon anyway, probably a dozen times, and my testimony of the book grew. But how could I believe in the Book of Mormon so strongly when I entertained a serious question about its consistency as a historical record? Did I lack intellectual integrity?
Years later, as a returned missionary and BYU student, I read one day a news article about conflict in the Middle East, and I was startled to find a description of a snowy scene in Jerusalem. Wait a minute—it snows in Jerusalem?! Who knew?
As smart as I thought I was as a teenager, I wasn’t all that smart. There was no problem with Nephi’s description of the tree. Nephi grew up in Jerusalem; it snows in Jerusalem.10
Now this may be a simple example, but the principle applies to greater challenges. We sometimes think we are pretty smart, and when something comes along that doesn’t fit our way of thinking—such as information about Church history or divorce in a temple marriage or same-gender attraction—it shakes us up, and we may begin to question our beliefs.
But maybe, like my trouble with Nephi and snow, we are just missing important perspective. Perhaps we need to be patient and wait for the resolution to come.11

Our apartment building was a great place to live. It overlooked the playground, my best friends lived next door, and there were always fun things to do.
But one thing wasn’t so great—Mrs. McDuffie.
“Stop running up the stairs,” she’d shout. “You’re making my pictures rattle!”
“Use quieter voices,” she’d say. “Don’t you know my walls are thin?”
“Yes, Mrs. McDuffie. Sorry, Mrs. McDuffie,” we’d always say.
There was only one word to describe Mrs. McDuffie. G-R-U-M-P. That’s right—grump.
“Why is Mrs. McDuffie so grumpy?” I asked my mom.
“Sometimes people don’t feel well. Sometimes they feel sad and alone.”
“Sometimes they’re just grumpy,” I said.
“Yes,” Mom said. “Sometimes people are just grumpy, but a little bit of kindness can go a long way.”
Mrs. McDuffie continued to scold us daily. One day we were extra loud in the stairwell.
“HELLO!” Tommy shouted. “Hello, hello, ello, lo …” Tommy pretended he was on a mountain testing an echo.
“Shh!” I said. “Mrs. McDuffie will get mad if we’re too loud.”
“Maybe she’s not home,” Macy said. “I’m going to knock on her door and run!” She did, but nobody answered.
“Maybe she’s sleeping,” Tommy said.
“Maybe she went to visit someone,” Macy said.
Soon Macy and Tommy had to go home. I walked down the hall only to find Mrs. McDuffie just leaving my apartment!
“Hello, Lori,” she said. She flashed a crinkled smile as she brushed past.
She smiled at me! That had to be a “you’re in trouble, kid” kind of smile. Mrs. McDuffie never smiled, and she was talking to my mom. What did she say?
I walked into the kitchen. “Mom?”
“We need to talk,” she said. “Could you go down and visit with Mrs. McDuffie for a while? Her husband was very sick for a long time, and he recently died.”
Mrs. McDuffie had a husband? I didn’t even know.
I quietly walked down the stairs and knocked on her door. When she answered the door, Mrs. McDuffie had tears in her eyes.
“My mom told me about your husband. I’m sorry.” I didn’t know what else to say.
As I went inside, for the first time I saw the crooked pictures on the wall that rattled as people went up and down the stairs.
“I’ve been too hard on you kids,” she said. “I’m sorry. I haven’t been feeling very well with my husband so sick. Thank you for coming.”
We sat on her floral couch, and Mrs. McDuffie told me stories about when she was young. She not only smiled; she laughed. I laughed too.
Mom was right: a little bit of kindness did go a long way. Mrs. McDuffie smiled more after that. Although we tried to be quiet, sometimes we got too loud. That’s when Mrs. McDuffie opened the door and shared a knock-knock joke or a plate of cookies.
There is only one word to describe Mrs. McDuffie. F-R-I-E-N-D. That’s right—friend.

My parents always felt that it was important for me to get an education. When I was a junior in high school, I wanted to buy a car. It was the prettiest car I’d ever seen, a white 1950 Oldsmobile convertible, and its price was four hundred dollars. I had just four hundred dollars in my bank account. This is going to work out great, I thought.

When I told my mom about my plan, she asked, “How will you get to college?” Then she said, “I believe that if you will save your money and go to college, you will be able to buy an even nicer car.” I thought and prayed about it and decided that she was right. I saved my money and went on to college. Then, when I had finished the “twenty-second grade” and had my bachelor’s, master’s, and doctoral degrees, I bought an old classic convertible. I still drive this car. It reminds me that if you are patient, follow good counsel, and follow the Spirit’s guidance to do what’s right, there will be all kinds of rewards.

Buying and acquiring things when you are young is unwise. Invest in yourself with education. And the kind of education we will need most through the eternities is spiritual.

For McKinzie Mower, going to the temple helped her testimony develop at a time when it could have easily wavered. She remembers attending church and praying regularly, but “I was just going through the motions.”
“Then one day, Brother Hatch told me they were going to the temple and said I would be welcome if I could come,” she continues. “I didn’t really want to do it, but then I thought about it and decided to go. After that first time, I just started going as often as I could, and as I did, spiritual things became more important in my life.”
McKinzie says the best part of going to the temple is the good feelings she gets from serving others. “I love doing something for people that they can’t do for themselves,” she explains. “Temple work is the ultimate example of that.”

Alan looked at his watch. It was 5:00. “Sherry will be getting home from Primary with the kids about now,” Alan thought, wishing a little he had brought the whole family. He was missing Sherry already.
“Todd, I hope you find a wife as wonderful as your mother,” Alan thought.
Alan’s thoughts wandered back to the day before his wedding. He’d spent the day getting traveler’s checks, changing the oil in the car, confirming reservations for the honeymoon. At night he went over to see Sherry. They went outside and walked hand in hand around her parent’s backyard, admiring the flowers and neat rows of vegetables.
“What will it be like to be married to you?” Sherry asked him thoughtfully.
“What’s the matter?” he kidded. “You change your mind?”
“It’s just that I’ve never been married before.”
“Me either,” Alan said.
“And tomorrow night at this time, we’ll … we’ll be married.”
“That’s right. Are you nervous?” Alan asked.
“I guess so. You’ll be my man. What kind of man are you?”
“What kind of man do you want me to be?”
“Oh, like my dad, like the stake president, like the prophet.”
“You mean old?” he asked with a grin.
“Oh, you know,” she said, taking his hand. “I want a priesthood man.”
“What kind of man is that?”
“D&C 121:41–46.”
“What’s that?” he asked.
“You’re the returned missionary; look it up. Okay?”
“Okay. Well, I’d better go.” He leaned over and they kissed. “Do you realize,” he whispered in her ear, “that this is the last time I’m ever going to kiss a single girl? It’s an auspicious occasion.”

From the moment my feet hit the floor that morning, I could tell something was off.
Do you ever have one of those days—almost like a beat-yourself-up kind of day? I spent that entire morning criticizing myself for every single decision I had made.
As the morning progressed, I couldn’t seem to shake my feelings of inadequacy and failure. So I prayed to my loving Heavenly Father, begging for a change in attitude, the strength to get through the day, and opportunities to serve.
Afterward, the morning started to pick up pace. Before I knew it, I had completed almost all my duties for the day and was standing in my kitchen, preparing a yummy treat to give to my bosses for “Boss Day.” As I poured melted chocolate over rice cereal, an interesting thought came to my mind:
“You should give Sister Jones (name has been changed) some of your treat!”
I immediately pushed that thought aside. I counted off the people I had already dedicated a treat bag to and determined there wasn’t enough.
“I’ll send her a text and ask her how she’s doing,” I thought. “At least then she will know I was thinking of her!”
Well, as He often does, the Lord wanted me to do something I didn’t necessarily want to do. I finished making my treat and divided it evenly into just enough bags for the people on my list. As I arranged the treats, something made me pause. I counted and recounted the number of treats and was taken aback by what I found.
Somehow I had ended up with one extra bag. I smiled, knowing exactly who that treat bag was for.
But as I looked at my schedule for the rest of the day, I realized I just didn’t have time to deliver the treat.
“It will still be good tomorrow, or even the next day!” I thought. But suddenly, I felt this unexplainable urgency come over me. I knew I needed to go and deliver that treat, right then and there. So even though my hair was a mess, the meat for lunch still wasn’t defrosted, and this sister lived in a different town, I found myself looking up her address.
You know what is amazing? When you are on the Lord’s errand, you can truly feel His hand helping you. My hair never looked so good in so short a time, I was able to make a different meal for lunch, and it just so happened that my dad had filled up my car with gas a few days earlier. The Lord helped prepare the way for me to serve this sister.
But even with all that, as I headed down the highway, I thought of all the reasons this was the wrong idea. What if Sister Jones wasn’t home? What if she was home? What if she didn’t like chocolate? What if she caught me trying to covertly sneak it into her mailbox? What if an animal got it? Endless scenarios came charging through my mind, and honestly the only reason I stuck to the plan was because I was already over halfway there.
I finally pulled up to her house and mustered all my courage to go knock on her door. When there was no answer, I stuck the treat inside her doorway and raced back to my car.
Immediately, an overwhelming sensation of peace and happiness enveloped me. I felt so good! It was such a stark contrast to the dark mood I had woken up in, and I felt joy as the rest of the day sped by.
If you would have told me that adding a 30-minute trip into my crazy schedule would turn out to be a blessing, I would have laughed. However, that is exactly what it turned out to be.
Heavenly Father answered my humble prayer in a way I did not expect. He knew I needed an opportunity to serve so I could gain some perspective by putting someone else first. Honestly, I don’t think Sister Jones needed the treat; I, however, needed to give it to her. I cannot tell you how much peace came from that one simple act.

But the relationship was not merely ecclesiastical. When President Young returned from his ingathering mission in the fall of 1842, he was struck with a terrible illness that nearly killed him. The Prophet administered to him, prophesied that he would live, and then personally cared for him, sitting with him for hours, carefully instructing and supervising his attendants for many days during the crisis period. Brigham said much later concerning this time, “I used to think, while Joseph was living, that his life compared well with the history of the Savior.”18

There were times I thought that pursuing my education wouldn’t be worth it.
I’d moved away from my family to attend university. I wasn’t living in a very safe part of town. And with all the anxiety I was experiencing about my safety and my finances, I didn’t feel like I was learning very much.
But here’s what I realized: I wasn’t doing this just for myself. My education was about more than me and my experiences.
I’m from Camotes, a small island in the Philippines. When I decided to attend college to become a teacher, I moved to Cebu, a larger island that was a two-hour boat ride away.
And for a while, I really worried about my safety. There was a lot of drug use and crime in the area I was living in, so getting from my house to campus every day sometimes forced me to be in stressful and dangerous situations, and I didn’t have the protection of my family.
During this time, there was a quote from President Thomas S. Monson (1927–2018) that changed how I thought about my situation: “Decisions determine destiny.”
I’d been thinking about all of the hard things happening to me, all the things outside of my control. But over time, the thought occurred to me that I’d made this choice—I’d chosen to travel away from my family and get an education.
This realization caused me to consider why I’d made this choice. And the answer came to me quickly: I wanted to be a leader in my branch. I wanted to return to my community with greater knowledge. I wanted to teach the kids on Camotes and encourage them to seek learning opportunities that could help them bless their future communities too. This was the destiny I was working toward.
President Russell M. Nelson once taught: “Don’t be afraid to pursue your goals—even your dreams! There is no shortcut to excellence and competence. Education is the difference between wishing you could help other people and being able to help them.”
Now I’ve finished my degree, and I’m back living on Camotes. I teach children in grades one and two, and I’m also the first counselor in my branch’s Primary presidency, so I get to use my education even more than I was expecting. I know how to be patient with these kids and teach them gospel principles in a way they will understand. Every day I’m grateful that I decided to get educated, despite how difficult it was at times.

Susan: “By the time Church policy had changed to allow worthy women who have nonmember husbands to attend the temple, I had been a member for six years—long enough to know how eternally significant the covenants are, and also long enough to know the difficulties in keeping those covenants.

“Time passed, and I was still making excuses. Then a friend asked, ‘Susan, when are you going to the temple?’ Something within me responded positively to that question. Soon some of my close friends and I went to the temple, where I received my endowment.

“One of the reasons I had hesitated about the temple was that I feared that my increased knowledge and commitment would widen the gap between my husband and me. But as I prayed about it, I came to feel that following the counsel of the Lord and his prophets—in short, practicing obedience—could only help me become a better Latter-day Saint and, therefore, a better person, a better spouse.

“The hard part is to remember that the covenants I’ve made in the temple are mine, not my husband’s. I try not to expect him to live according to covenants he has not made.”

Listen to general conference. Once, just before general conference, I was feeling discouraged and prayed to know if anyone understood my situation. That very conference, Elder David S. Baxter of the Seventy said: “There are, of course, some single families where it is the father who is the single parent. Brethren, we also pray for you and pay tribute to you.”3 That helped me understand that the same love and support given to single mothers is available to single fathers too.

It was a beautiful spring day, and the bell hadn’t yet rung for my French class to begin. With great animation I was explaining to my friend the details of my upcoming trip to Brigham Young University during spring break. My mother, Trudy* (my good friend from church), and I were taking a road trip to check out BYU.
It was a 12-hour drive from my home in Washington State to Provo, Utah, but that was also part of the fun. We would take our time and see the sights along the way and have lots of girl fun. I had never been on a trip without my dad and the rest of my brothers and sisters, so this was a real treat.
Finally I was free to leave. As I began gathering my books and papers, a voice from behind me timidly asked, “Hey, Cathy, can I talk to you for a minute?”
It was Jane Stevens.* I didn’t know Jane very well because she didn’t hang out with my usual friends. She wasn’t LDS and seemed a little shy.
“Uh, sure Jane,” I replied. “What’s up?”
“Well.” She cleared her throat. “I heard you talking about your trip to Brigham Young University, and I wanted to know …” She stopped, and when she said the next sentence it was strung together without a pause: “It sounds like fun and I want to know if it’s OK if I come along too.”
Had I heard her right? Did she really just ask if she could come along on this once-in-a-life-time adventure with me and my mom and my best friend? How could anyone just barge in and ask if they could come on a trip with someone they hardly knew? Finally, I said the only thing that came to mind that made any sense: “I’ll have to ask my mom.”
Jane looked up at me. “Yeah, you should ask your mom. Thanks. Do you … think you could ask her tonight and then tell me tomorrow?” Now I was committed.
As I walked the three blocks to my job I kept thinking, “What have I done? I don’t want Jane to mess up our plans. This was supposed to be an adventure for just the three of us.” Then, the perfect answer came to me with a jolt: I’ll tell her my mom said no. We didn’t have enough room or something equally plausible. Mom would go along with this story, I just knew she would.
Suddenly I felt better, if somewhat deceitful. At least I had a plan.
I hurried straight home and raced into the house. “Mom! Mom!” I called.
“I’m in the kitchen,” she answered. “What in the world are you in such a rush for?” She was drying the last of the dinner dishes.
“Mom, there’s this girl at school, and she wants to come with us on our trip. I don’t want her to come, and I want you to tell her she can’t come for some reason.”
“Whew!” My mom said laughing. “Slow down and tell me that again.”
“OK, there is this girl Jane at school …”
“Jane Stevens?” my mom interrupted. “I know her parents. They are nice. I think it would be lovely if she came along,” said my mother.
“Noooo, Mom! We have all these plans made. I hardly know her and, and … and we don’t have any room in the car!”
“Let’s see.” Why was my mother so calm? “One: plans can be changed. Two: this would be a good way to get to know Jane. And three, we actually do have room in the car.”
“But Mom, it just won’t be as much fun if Jane comes with us.”
My mother, still calm, said, “Cathy, I can see how this upsets you. So I am going to leave the decision up to you. I just want you to know, Jane is welcome to come with us, but if you aren’t comfortable with that, you will be the one to explain to her that she can’t come.”
“OK. Thanks, Mom.” That made it easy. All I had to do was tell Jane there wasn’t enough room in the car, and she would understand. She’d have to.
I didn’t see Jane until the next day just before French. Why was my heart beating so fast?
“Did you ask your mom, Cathy?” she asked. She was looking at me and smiling.
Say it. “The car is too full. So sorry.” “The car is too full.” Say it!
“My mom said it would be fine if you come with us, and … I think it will be fun if you do.”
Where did that come from? I couldn’t believe I had said that.
Jane gave me a quick hug. “This is so wonderful!” she exclaimed. “I can’t wait!”
To this day I don’t know what came over me. But whatever it was, I am so very thankful it did. Jane went with us, and we had a great time. We had a marvelous tour of BYU and visited with other students from our hometown. We bowled, went out to dinner, visited family, and got to know one another better.
I learned to love Jane on that trip, and she began to love the gospel of Jesus Christ. When we returned home to Washington, Jane took the missionary lessons and soon became the first member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in her family. She returned to BYU with me that fall as my roommate. She eventually married in the temple and raised her family in the gospel.
What led me to change my mind that spring day so long ago? I have had a lot of years to think about that question. I now believe it was the Holy Ghost. He knew Jane’s heart was ready for the gospel. And He knew my heart needed a good gospel wake-up lesson.
Since that day, I have learned to be more accepting of those who are not in my circle and to open my mouth about the gospel of Jesus Christ. I try to follow Paul’s lead when he said, “For I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ: for it is the power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth” (Romans 1:16).
I also learned that you never know how many lives you will touch when you simply say, “You can come with us.”

Many years ago, I was first counselor to a district president in the eastern United States. More than once, as we were driving to our little branches, he said to me, “Hal, when you meet someone, treat them as if they were in serious trouble, and you will be right more than half the time.” Not only was he right, but I have learned over the years that he was too low in his estimate. Today I wish to encourage you in the troubles you face.
Our mortal life is designed by a loving God to be a test and source of growth for each of us. You remember God’s words regarding His children at the Creation of the world: “And we will prove them herewith, to see if they will do all things whatsoever the Lord their God shall command them.”
Since the beginning, the tests have not been easy. We face trials that come from having mortal bodies. All of us live in a world where Satan’s war against truth and against our personal happiness is becoming more intense. The world and your life can seem to you to be in increasing commotion.
My reassurance is this: the loving God who allowed these tests for you also designed a sure way to pass through them. Heavenly Father so loved the world that He sent His Beloved Son to help us. His Son, Jesus Christ, gave His life for us. Jesus Christ bore in Gethsemane and on the cross the weight of all our sins. He experienced all the sorrows, the pains, and the effects of our sins so that He could comfort and strengthen us through every test in life.
You remember that the Lord said to His servants:
“The Father and I are one. I am in the Father and the Father in me; and inasmuch as ye have received me, ye are in me and I in you.
“Wherefore, I am in your midst, and I am the good shepherd, and the stone of Israel. He that buildeth upon this rock shall never fall.”
Our prophet, President Russell M. Nelson, has also given that same assurance. Moreover, he described a way we might build upon that rock and put the Lord’s name upon our hearts to guide us through our trials.
He said: “You who may be momentarily disheartened, remember, life is not meant to be easy. Trials must be borne and grief endured along the way. As you remember that ‘with God nothing shall be impossible’ (Luke 1:37), know that He is your Father. You are a son or daughter created in His image, entitled through your worthiness to receive revelation to help with your righteous endeavors. You may take upon you the holy name of the Lord. You can qualify to speak in the sacred name of God (see D&C 1:20).”
President Nelson’s words remind us of the promise found in the sacramental prayer, a promise our Heavenly Father fulfills as we do what we in turn promise.
Listen to the words: “O God, the Eternal Father, we ask thee in the name of thy Son, Jesus Christ, to bless and sanctify this bread to the souls of all those who partake of it, that they may eat in remembrance of the body of thy Son, and witness unto thee, O God, the Eternal Father, that they are willing to take upon them the name of thy Son, and always remember him and keep his commandments which he has given them; that they may always have his Spirit to be with them. Amen.”
Each time we say the word amen when that prayer is offered on our behalf, we pledge that by partaking of the bread, we are willing to take upon us the holy name of Jesus Christ, always remember Him, and keep His commandments. In turn, we are promised that we may always have His Spirit to be with us. Because of these promises, the Savior is the rock upon which we can stand safely and without fear in every storm we face.
As I have pondered the covenant words and corresponding blessings promised, I have wondered what it means to be willing to take upon us the name of Jesus Christ.
President Dallin H. Oaks explains: “It is significant that when we partake of the sacrament we do not witness that we take upon us the name of Jesus Christ. We witness that we are willing to do so. (See D&C 20:77.) The fact that we only witness to our willingness suggests that something else must happen before we actually take that sacred name upon us in the most important sense.”
The statement that we are “willing to take upon [us]” His name tells us that while we first took the Savior’s name when we were baptized, taking His name is not finished at baptism. We must work continually to take His name throughout our lives, including when we renew covenants at the sacrament table and make covenants in the Lord’s holy temples.
So two crucial questions for each of us become “What must I be doing to take His name upon me?” and “How will I know when I am making progress?”
The statement of President Nelson suggests one helpful answer. He said that we could take the name of the Savior upon us and that we could speak for Him. When we speak for Him, we serve Him. “For how knoweth a man the master whom he has not served, and who is a stranger unto him, and is far from the thoughts and intents of his heart?”
Speaking for Him requires a prayer of faith. It takes a fervent prayer to Heavenly Father to learn what words we could speak to help the Savior in His work. We must qualify for the promise: “Whether by mine own voice or by the voice of my servants, it is the same.”
Yet it takes more than speaking for Him to take His name upon us. There are feelings in our hearts we must have to qualify as His servants.
The prophet Mormon described the feelings that qualify us and enable us to take His name upon us. These feelings include faith, hope, and charity, which is the pure love of Christ.
Mormon explained:
“For I judge that ye have faith in Christ because of your meekness; for if ye have not faith in him then ye are not fit to be numbered among the people of his church.
“And again, my beloved brethren, I would speak unto you concerning hope. How is it that ye can attain unto faith, save ye shall have hope?
“And what is it that ye shall hope for? Behold I say unto you that ye shall have hope through the atonement of Christ and the power of his resurrection, to be raised unto life eternal, and this because of your faith in him according to the promise.
“Wherefore, if a man have faith he must needs have hope; for without faith there cannot be any hope.
“And again, behold I say unto you that he cannot have faith and hope, save he shall be meek, and lowly of heart.
“If so, his faith and hope is vain, for none is acceptable before God, save the meek and lowly in heart; and if a man be meek and lowly in heart, and confesses by the power of the Holy Ghost that Jesus is the Christ, he must needs have charity; for if he have not charity he is nothing; wherefore he must needs have charity.”
After describing charity, Mormon goes on to say:
“But charity is the pure love of Christ, and it endureth forever; and whoso is found possessed of it at the last day, it shall be well with him.
“Wherefore, my beloved brethren, pray unto the Father with all the energy of heart, that ye may be filled with this love, which he hath bestowed upon all who are true followers of his Son, Jesus Christ; that ye may become the sons of God; that when he shall appear we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is; that we may have this hope; that we may be purified even as he is pure. Amen.”
My testimony is that the Savior is putting His name in your hearts. For many of you, your faith in Him is increasing. You are feeling more hope and optimism. And you are feeling the pure love of Christ for others and for yourself.
I see it in missionaries serving all over the world. I see it in members who are speaking to their friends and family members about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Men, women, young people, and even children are ministering out of love for the Savior and for their neighbors.
At the first report of disasters across the world, members make plans to go to the rescue, sometimes across oceans, without being asked. They sometimes find it hard to wait until the devastated areas can receive them.
I realize that some of you listening today may feel that your faith and hope are being overcome by your troubles. And you may yearn to feel love.
Brothers and sisters, the Lord has opportunities near you to feel and to share His love. You can pray with confidence for the Lord to lead you to love someone for Him. He answers the prayers of meek volunteers like you. You will feel the love of God for you and for the person you serve for Him. As you help children of God in their troubles, your own troubles will seem lighter. Your faith and your hope will be strengthened.
I am an eyewitness of that truth. Over a lifetime, my wife has spoken for the Lord and served people for Him. As I’ve mentioned before, one of our bishops once said to me: “I’m amazed. Every time I hear of a person in the ward who is in trouble, I hurry to help. Yet by the time I arrive, it seems that your wife has always already been there.” That has been true in all the places we have lived for 56 years.
Now she can speak only a few words a day. She is visited by people she loved for the Lord. Every night and morning I sing hymns with her and we pray. I have to be voice in the prayers and in the songs. Sometimes I can see her mouthing the words of the hymns. She prefers children’s songs. The sentiment she seems to like best is summarized in the song “I’m Trying to Be like Jesus.”
The other day, after singing the words of the chorus: “Love one another as Jesus loves you. Try to show kindness in all that you do,” she said softly, but clearly, “Try, try, try.” I think that she will find, when she sees Him, that our Savior has put His name into her heart and that she has become like Him. He is carrying her through her troubles now, as He will carry you through yours.
I bear you my witness that the Savior knows and loves you. He knows your name as you know His. He knows your troubles. He has experienced them. By His Atonement, He has overcome the world. By your being willing to take His name upon you, you will lift the burdens of countless others. And you will find in time that you know the Savior better and that you love Him more. His name will be in your heart and fixed in your memory. It is the name by which you will be called. I so witness, with gratitude for His loving-kindness to me, to my loved ones, and to you, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.