Gospel Story Finder

I served in the United States Navy toward the end of World War II. I was a seaman, the lowest possible rank in the navy. Then I qualified to be Seaman First Class, after which I qualified to be Yeoman Third Class.
World War II ended, and I was later discharged. But I made a decision that if ever I went back into the military, I wanted to serve as a commissioned officer. I thought, “No more mess kitchens for me, no more scrubbing the decks, if I can avoid it.”
After I was discharged, I joined the United States Naval Reserve. I went to drill every Monday night. I studied hard that I might qualify academically. I took every kind of examination imaginable: mental, physical, and emotional. Finally, there came the beautiful news: “You have been accepted to receive the commission of an ensign in the United States Naval Reserve.”
I gleefully showed it to my wife, Frances, and said, “I made it! I made it!” She hugged me and said, “You’ve worked hard enough to achieve it.”
But then something happened. I was called to be a counselor in my ward bishopric. The bishop’s council meeting was on the same evening as my navy drill meeting. I knew there was a terrible conflict. I knew that I didn’t have the time to pursue the Naval Reserve and my bishopric duties. What was I to do? A decision had to be made.
I prayed about it. Then I went to see the man who was my stake president when I was a boy, Elder Harold B. Lee (1899–1973), then of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. I sat down across the table from him. I told him how much I valued that commission. In fact, I showed him the copy of the letter of appointment I had received.
Illustration by Paul Mann
After pondering the matter for a moment, he said to me, “Here’s what you should do, Brother Monson. You write a letter to the Bureau of Naval Affairs and tell them that because of your call as a member of the bishopric, you can’t accept that commission in the United States Naval Reserve.”
My heart sank. He added, “Then write to the commandant of the Twelfth Naval District in San Francisco indicating that you would like to be discharged from the reserve.”
I said, “Elder Lee, you don’t understand the military. Of course they will decline to give me that commission if I refuse to accept it, but the Twelfth Naval District isn’t going to let me off. With a war brewing in Korea, a noncommissioned officer will surely be called up. If called back, I would rather go back as a commissioned officer, but I won’t if I don’t accept this commission. Are you sure this is the counsel you want me to receive?”
Elder Lee put his hand on my shoulder and in a fatherly way said, “Brother Monson, have more faith. The military is not for you.”
I went home. I placed a tear-stained commission back in its envelope with its accompanying letter and declined to accept it. Then I wrote a letter to the Twelfth Naval District and requested a discharge from the Naval Reserve.
My discharge from the Naval Reserve was in the last group processed before the outbreak of the Korean War. My headquarters outfit was activated. Six weeks after I was called to be a counselor in the bishopric, I was called to be the bishop of my ward.
I would not hold the position in the Church I hold today had I not followed the counsel of a prophet, had I not prayed about that decision, had I not come to an appreciation of an important truth: the wisdom of God ofttimes appears as foolishness to men.1 But the greatest single lesson we can learn in mortality is that when God speaks and His children obey, they will always be right.

They came by boat, they came by ferry, and youth from Kodiak Island even came by plane. That’s what you have to do for youth conference in the Soldotna Alaska Stake, located 150 miles south of Anchorage on the Kenai Peninsula. The stake takes in more than 10 cities and small communities, and the teens came from near and far to pull handcarts in the shadow of the Ring of Fire volcanoes. But this reenactment was unique. It was a pioneer trek Alaska-style.
Traveling three hours by ferry, two hours by car, and another hour and a half by bus to get to the trailhead, one Laurel from Cordova, Aubrey Finch, said: “I am so glad I went. It built me as a person to see what my ancestors, the pioneers, went through just for what they believed in.”
Like teens at most pioneer treks, these Alaskans pulled handcarts, cooked their own meals, and enjoyed devotionals. But this group faced its own challenges that gave this trek an Alaskan flavor—like keeping an eye out for bear warnings and dealing with nearly 24 hours of daily sunlight.
The first obstacle was finding a place for the trek. “We had no idea how hard it would be to find land that we would be allowed to cross,” said Marlene Meyer, the stake Young Women president. “In some ways it reminded us of the feeling the pioneers had when they were driven out of every place they tried to call home.”
For months the leaders scoured the state looking for a suitable site that could handle 150 people pulling handcarts and camping along the way. Because much of Alaska is covered in wetland, they knew they needed to find an abandoned road with dry campsites every 12 miles. Fourteen days before the event was scheduled to begin, the leaders were contacted about the possibility of passing through some land in a small area called Anchor Point. Miraculously, it had oil pad sites, areas covered in gravel and suitable for camping, positioned every 12 miles along an old road. With only days to spare, stake leaders got the permits and the trek went forward.
Before the trek began, youth and adults spent hundreds of hours building handcarts, welding wagon wheels, sewing clothing, preparing food, and planning. The youth, wanting to make the trek their own, put much of their own effort into the preparations.
Kaylene Forbes, a Laurel of the Soldotna Ward, said, “I did a lot of sewing to prepare for the trek. The skirts and the aprons weren’t very difficult, but the bonnet was hard. After I was finished, though, especially on the trek, I was glad that I did everything myself.”
Each handcart “family” was led by a young man and young woman, called a Pa and Ma, and were also accompanied by adult leaders. The Mas and Pas even arrived early for special training.
“We worked hard,” Brother Forbes, Soldotna’s Young Men president, said. “Hundreds and hundreds of hours, but it was worth 100 times the effort that went into it. It was better than we could have ever dreamed.”
Throughout the trek, efforts to bring to life 19th-century pioneers included a mock Mormon Battalion march and a women’s pull, but no one could plan for one disheartening element they had in common with the pioneers—the weather. One of the original handcart pioneers, John Southwell, who traveled in the Haven handcart company crossing Iowa in 1856, records that they experienced hail, rain, wind, and ankle-deep mud.
One hundred and fifty years later, when the Alaska participants reached the trailhead on the first day of their trek, rain gushed down. The long, muddy trail wandered up tall hills, and the handcart wheels sunk in deep sand.
On the third day, the group awoke to a terrible storm with winds blowing more than 50 miles per hour. Pegs pulled loose, tents collapsed, the rain pounded down, and dark clouds covered the entire sky. Fearing that the weather would stop the trek, the leaders knelt in prayer. President Randy Eberline of the stake presidency asked the Lord to calm the storm. Throughout the camp, trek families also knelt and prayed for relief from the weather. Suddenly, the clouds parted and a bowl of warm sunlight shone down. Kelly Maxwell, a priest from Sterling, described the answer to their combined prayers: “President Eberline prayed for there to be sunlight, and I was also hoping and praying that it would work. Minutes later we saw a break in the sky, and we started to see blue and then the sun just came out of the clouds.”
Kaylene described it this way: “The wind stopped, and you could see the clouds parting and the sun coming out. It was like seeing Moses parting the Red Sea, except this time God parted the clouds for us.”
Brother and Sister Matt and Jodi Clark arrived that evening to speak at a fireside. They reported that on the 100-mile drive from Anchorage it had been pouring rain. As they crested the last hill before reaching the camp, they saw the most incredible sight. Sunlight flooded the camp while the rest of the sky, as far as they could see in all directions, was full of dark clouds.
James Barrett, a priest from the Kenai Ward, said, “It was wonderful to feel the sun again, the warmth and the light that brought encouragement and hope. It was a miracle. It was as if the Lord had stretched out his hand and protected us from the harsh weather by surrounding our camp with sunlight.”
The next day included special devotionals, a memorial fireside, and a testimony meeting, solidifying the spirit of the experience. It started with a devotional in the wilderness for each handcart “family.” At the devotional the youth received a letter written by their parents. Some of the youth later said that during this quiet time they received their first witness of the truthfulness of the gospel. Cyril Zufelt, 17, of Soldotna said, “When I got my letter, I was touched. That was a huge turning point in my life. I’m never going to forget it.”
Then, after walking for several miles, the group was halted by the trail boss who instructed each person to pick up a rock. In a valley between two large hills, they held a special memorial service dedicated to all of the pioneers left behind on the trail, especially those of the Martin and Willie handcart companies, who had lost so many to the early winter weather and starvation. Each person placed their rock on a small memorial of the earlier pioneers. Sister Meyer remarked, “I couldn’t believe how hard it was to walk past that little memorial and think of the families that left loved ones behind. I don’t know how they had the strength to do it.”
As they packed up their tents, put away their bonnets and suspenders, and returned to inside plumbing, the youth took away more than blisters and soggy hiking shoes—they took with them an appreciation for the Saints who traveled 150 years ago and 3,600 miles away. Most of all, they took with them a stronger testimony of the gospel.
Lyssa DaVaney, a Laurel in the Homer Ward, said, “When I left for the trek, I knew that I would be coming back. The pioneers knew they would never go back to their homes again. The trek was such an awakening experience for me. I learned so much about the pioneers, Heavenly Father, and myself. I wouldn’t trade my experience for anything.”

I started going to church with some friends in our neighborhood. But then we moved and I stopped going.
In my new school I signed up for seminary. I began reading the scriptures daily. One night it hit me just how much my life needed changing. I had been learning about the gospel, but I hadn’t been living it. I was still hanging out with people who made it difficult to live righteously. I knew I had to get serious about changing my life. The next day I went and talked to Brother Porter, my seminary teacher. He told me when and where my ward met.
The next Sunday I went to church but sat down in the back of the chapel. It took a while to make friends because of my reputation, but I kept going each week because I knew that was where I was supposed to be. For my 15th birthday, my other grandma gave me a gift certificate for a haircut and some new clothes. A few days later I was ordained a teacher.

As the usual family festivities of Christmas Eve were drawing to an end, I felt that can’t-wait-until-morning feeling of excitement!
I was eight years of age and the oldest grandchild in my large extended family. Every few minutes, a parent, aunt, or uncle would open the door and exclaim about hearing the faint sound of bells. I could hardly wait for Santa to arrive. Yet Grandpa still insisted on going caroling first—a family tradition. “Santa will never come!” I thought.
As we hopped into our frost-covered cars, we realized it was a lot later than we normally left. The small town where we lived in Idaho was very quiet and cold. Some family members worried that we shouldn’t go caroling so late, but my grandpa insisted that we should visit a couple houses.
As we drove down the small, tree-covered lane, we could see no hint of light in the tiny log cabin belonging to “Old Jim.” Jim was a good friend, and he had a big heart. He had been a widower since I could remember.
“Surely Jim wouldn’t care if we didn’t stop,” I moaned. Santa Claus would miss us for sure!
But my good grandfather persisted: “Just quietly gather by the bedroom window and start with ‘O Little Town of Bethlehem.’”
Our voices were unsteady at first, but strength lies in numbers, and it wasn’t long until the music swelled into a beautiful, harmonious melody.
Yet in thy dark streets shineth
The everlasting Light.
The hopes and fears of all the years
Are met in thee tonight.
There was still no light on in Jim’s home, but we continued to sing.
O morning stars, together
Proclaim the holy birth,
And praises sing to God the King,
And peace to men on earth.1
The cabin door opened.
In the moonlight, we could see tears run down Jim’s face. As he embraced us all, he cried—really cried. After a time, he wiped the tears of joy from his face and said to us, “I have waited all year for you to come. You are my Christmas. And when the clock turned 9:30, I thought I had been forgotten. I was so disappointed. I had gone to bed, for there was no reason to stay up anymore.”
Our hearts were filled. As Jim motioned us into his home and turned on the light, we could see that he indeed had been expecting us. His kitchen table was beautifully set, and there was everything from Christmas cake and cookies to cold meats cut and laid out waiting for us to eat. The cups had been carefully counted and lovingly filled with sweet apple cider, so as “not to miss a one of you,” Jim added.
Jim said we had been his Christmas? Not so. Jim had been ours.
The gift of love we received that cold Christmas Eve was more wonderful than anything Santa could ever have left under our Christmas tree. And it was a reminder that the Lord wants us to minister to His children as He does—one by one, bringing His love with us (see 3 Nephi 11:15–17; 17:21).
The author lives in Utah.

Elder Spori’s labors extended as far as Joppa, Damascus, and Jerusalem. It was here in the land of Palestine that he discovered how miracles can come about through small means.
By local law all Christians had to be out of the city of Haifa before the gates were locked at dusk. But Elder Spori was working in that city with an investigator who was ill at the time. The young Mormon elder hated to leave until he was sure his friend was better. That evening, with the investigator getting better, Jacob made plans to leave the city. He knew the gates were locked and that getting caught meant going to jail. As he walked along the city’s shore, pondering what to do, he watched the fishing boats coming into port. He noticed some men preparing the nets for the next day’s work and had the feeling he should help them. He stepped up and began working; no one seemed to notice him. When the work was finally done the men rolled up the nets, got into the small boat and prepared to set sail. Without a word Elder Spori also got into the boat. Before long they were on the sea. The next day the boat landed at Cairo, and Elder Spori jumped from the boat, went into the city, and resumed preaching the gospel.

When I was eight years old, my Primary teacher gave a lesson that confused me. She said that after we die, we will be able to remember all the things we did while on the earth.
After class when I was going to sacrament meeting, I saw a little girl who was sad. Her parents were not around, so I knew she was lost. I played with her for a minute, but sacrament meeting was starting and I knew I should go in. I started to go into the chapel, but then I remembered what my teacher said. Her lesson started to make sense. Heavenly Father and Jesus would know what I did. I knew that I should help that little girl.
I went back to get her. And soon her dad came back and found her. I’m grateful for Jesus’ example. And I’m grateful to my teacher for the lesson that helped me so much.

Hannah sobbed. Mom gently combed Hannah’s hair and added a pretty bow. Hannah sobbed louder.
“You must be very worried about your shot at the doctor’s today,” Mom said, lifting Hannah onto her lap. “Would you like us to say a prayer?”
Hannah nodded. Mom held Hannah and prayed that Heavenly Father would help Hannah be brave. Hannah wiped her eyes. Then Mom set Hannah down and picked up baby Eli.
“The shot will only hurt for a minute,” Mom promised as she dressed the baby. “Do you know why you need to have shots?”
“So I won’t get really sick,” Hannah replied.
“That’s right,” Mom said. “The shot will help you stay healthy. You’re lucky you only need one shot. Eli will have three shots today.”
Hannah’s eyes filled with tears again. “Oh, poor Eli!” she declared. She bent down and gave her brother a hug. “I will help him be brave.”
On the way to the doctor’s office, Hannah and Mom sang “I Am a Child of God.”* While they waited for the nurse, Hannah hummed quietly to Eli. Mom showed Hannah some toys to play with and books to read, but Hannah didn’t feel like playing or reading. She patted Eli’s head and held Mom’s hand.
“Hello, young lady,” the nurse greeted Hannah. “Shall we do your shot first or your brother’s?”
Hannah felt shy, but she whispered, “I will go first so Eli will see that it only hurts for a little minute.”
“What a kind big sister!” the nurse said. She showed Hannah the syringe with the vaccine. “After we squirt this medicine into your leg, we’ll put on this bandage.”
Hannah looked at the purple dinosaur bandage. She squeezed Mom’s hand when she felt a pinch from the shot.
“All done. You held very still,” the nurse said. She gave Hannah a big round sticker to put on her shirt.
“It’s OK to cry if it hurts,” Mom said.
Hannah patted the sore spot on her leg. “I will wait to cry,” she said, “so Eli will not be so scared.”
Eli cried after his three shots. When he was calm, Hannah didn’t feel like crying anymore.
Hannah smiled and said proudly, “Heavenly Father helped me be brave, and I helped Eli.”

When my husband died in 2019, I decided to go to the United States, where my daughter now lived. I wanted to see her and learn more about the restored Church.
I stayed in Salt Lake City, Utah, for four and a half months. I went to church every week with my daughter. I had a feeling I could not describe. I took the missionary discussions. I knew it was all true. I experienced the most beautiful day of my life when I entered the waters of baptism and was confirmed a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints on July 27, 2019.
When I walked into the room to be confirmed after my baptism, everyone was crying. Being baptized and receiving the gift of the Holy Ghost is a great gift from our Heavenly Father. After my confirmation, I felt that heaven was open and that we were all there together. In my patriarchal blessing afterward, I received many special, eternal promises.

Some years ago in the Church News section there appeared a most interesting article about a young man who made his decision to trust in the ways of the Lord. The article reads:

“President Spencer W. Kimball is a constant inspiration to the Church. This is not only so through what he says, but likewise by what he does. When addressing the Stockholm Area Conference he revealed the secret of this success. Said he:

“‘As I was out alone, milking the cows, or putting up the hay, I had time to think. I mulled it over in my mind and made this decision: “I, Spencer Kimball, will never taste any form of liquor. I, Spencer Kimball, will never touch tobacco. I will never drink coffee, nor will I ever touch tea—not because I can explain why I shouldn’t, except that the Lord said not to.” He said those things were an abomination. There are many other things that are, too, that are not in the Word of Wisdom. But I made up my mind.

“‘That’s the point I am trying to make. I made up my mind then, as a little boy; “I will never touch those things.” And so, having made up my mind, it was easy to follow it, and I did not yield. There were many temptations that came along, but I did not even analyze it; I did not stop and measure it and say, “Well, shall I or shall I not?” I always said to myself: “But I made up my mind I would not. Therefore, I do not.”

President Kimball continues, “‘I want to just say that I will soon go into another year and that I have never tasted tea, nor coffee, nor tobacco, nor liquor of any kind, nor drugs. Now that may sound very presumptuous and boasting to you, but I am only trying to make this point: that if every boy and girl—as he or she begins to grow a little more mature and becomes a little more independent of his friends and his family and all—if every boy and girl would make up his or her mind, “I will not yield,” then no matter what the temptation is: “I made up my mind. That’s settled.”’” (Church News, 4 Oct. 1975; see also Conference Report, Denmark, Finland, Norway, and Sweden Area Conference, Aug. 1974, pp. 86–87.)

Many faithful Latter-day Saints have been warned by the Spirit when they were faced with injury or possible death. Among these was President Wilford Woodruff, who said:
“When I got back to Winter Quarters from the pioneer journey [1847], President [Brigham Young] said to me, ‘Brother Woodruff, I want you to take your wife and children and go to Boston and stay there until you can gather every Saint of God in New England and Canada and send them up to Zion.’
“I did as he told me. It took me two years to gather up everybody, and I brought up the rear with a company (there were about one hundred of them). We arrived at Pittsburgh one day at sundown. We did not want to stay there, so I went to the first steamboat that was going to leave. I saw the captain and engaged passage for us on that steamer. I had only just done so when the spirit said to me, and that, too, very strongly, ‘Don’t go aboard that steamer, nor your company.’ Of course, I went and spoke to the captain, and told him I had made up my mind to wait.
“Well, that ship started, and had only got five miles down the river when it took fire, and three hundred persons were burned to death or drowned. If I had not obeyed that spirit, and had gone on that steamer with the rest of the company, you can see what the result would have been.”

Several years passed after that cold night on the river’s shore. In 1835 Mary Elizabeth married Adam Lightner. A few months later, the couple moved to Far West, Missouri, where many other Saints were living.
Mary Elizabeth and Adam lived in Far West for two years. It wasn’t long before mobs began to fight against the Saints in Far West, just as they had in Independence.
One day a mob came to Far West and set up cannons to attack the town. Some men from the mob approached Mary Elizabeth’s house. They carried a white flag to show that they came in peace. The men asked to speak to Mary Elizabeth, Adam, and Adam’s sister and her husband. They gathered outside Mary Elizabeth and Adam’s house.
One of the men was a general in the Missouri military. “Governor Boggs has given me orders to remove your families from Far West before we destroy the town,” he said. Mary Elizabeth used to work for Mr. Boggs and his family in Independence. The Boggs family had liked Mary Elizabeth. Now Mr. Boggs was governor of the whole state, and though he disliked the Mormons, he wanted to save her.
“Will you let all the Mormon women and children leave before the fighting begins?” Mary Elizabeth asked.
“My orders are to spare only these two families. Everyone else must be destroyed,” said the general.
Mary Elizabeth stood tall and said, “If that is the case, then I refuse to go. I am a full-blooded Mormon, and I am not ashamed of it.”
The general tried to persuade her to leave and save her children’s lives, but Mary Elizabeth stood firm. The general became angry. Suddenly a man rushed over. It was Heber C. Kimball, one of the Twelve Apostles! He helped defend Mary Elizabeth and her family from the angry general.
“Sister Lightner,” said Brother Kimball, “God Almighty bless you. I thank my God for a soul that is ready to die for her religion. Not a hair of your head will be harmed. I will protect you.”
“So will I,” said a voice. Brother Kimball was joined by Hyrum Smith, the Prophet Joseph’s brother. Other Church leaders came forward to support Mary Elizabeth and her family.
Even though the mob was ready to attack, the Saints in Far West were not harmed at that time. Mary Elizabeth took comfort that her faith in the Lord had made her strong.

I have a sweet memory of a prayer that I treasure. For one of my summer breaks from college, I accepted a job in Texas. I had to drive hundreds of miles from Idaho to Texas in my old car, a car I had affectionately named Vern. Vern was packed to the roof, and I was ready for the new adventure.

On my way out the door, I gave my dear mother a hug and she said, “Let’s say a prayer before you leave.”

We knelt and my mother began to pray. She pleaded with Heavenly Father for my safety. She prayed for my non-air-conditioned car, asking that the car would function as I needed. She asked for angels to be with me throughout the summer. She prayed and prayed and prayed.

The peace that came from that prayer gave me the courage to trust in the Lord and lean not to my own understanding. The Lord directed my path in the many decisions I made that summer.

Some years later I was called to serve in another bishopric. Again this love developed as we had opportunity to meet so often to direct the affairs of the ward. A little over a year later, a change was to be made in our stake presidency. The bishop and I were called in to be interviewed by the General Authority who was making the change. The first question the General Authority asked was, “How do you get along with your bishop? Is he a good leader?” Then I started to express in glowing terms my love and appreciation for this man and all he had done for the ward. Suddenly I realized the purpose of the interview. They could call him into the stake presidency, and we would lose our association. I immediately stopped my compliments on his great service, and after a pause, I said with a little smile on my face, “The only difficulty he has is that when he is under pressure, he goes home and beats his wife.” The General Authority leaned back in his chair and said, “Isn’t that peculiar? He was in here just a minute ago and said you have leadership capabilities but you too have a fault. You like to go out behind the barn on occasion and smoke a cigar.” The strategy failed: I was called into the new stake presidency.

Before leaving for the England Manchester Mission, it became evident just how much Jolyon’s new attitude toward life had affected him. Not only did he take part in, and win, several national paraplegic sporting events, but his social life also improved.

“We had a stake fireside on dating standards,” Jo says. “And the final challenge was a competition to get youth mixing. We had to see who could have the most dates (same partner allowed no more than five times) in six months. The prize would be a trip to London for a meal and a show.”

Despite the fact that Jo was in the hospital for one of those months, and his mission departure was a month before the competition finished, he still came out winner. His total—38 dates in four months. Now he has a two-year wait for the prize.

I was studying speech pathology at Mississippi University for Women five years ago. During the year I had looked for a church I could believe in. I had not found one.
One day some friends and I discussed the destination of the spirit after death. Theories were suggested. I had heard one thing about Mormons: they believed in three heavens, and they all went to one of them. As I laughingly related this knowledge a girl spoke up, “That isn’t exactly true.” Attention was directed to her, and I asked, “How do you know?” (I was surprised someone had spoken with conviction.) She answered, “I’m a Mormon.”
For a month I visited my new friend’s home and listened to the flannelboard discussions. The first vision of the Prophet Joseph was a little difficult to accept; also, I had a question about the day of the Sabbath. But the absolutely logical account of the apostasy and the restoration could not be disputed as far as I was concerned.
Still, I held back until one Sunday night after sacrament meeting when the missionaries suggested I be baptized at 9:00 A.M. the next day! The suggestion was made in front of several members. They were smiling encouragingly and I said, after a moment’s thought, “All right.” (How could I refuse with so many people caring?)
Having made the decision, I informed the Lord that Sunday night of my plans. I asked him to give me some indication that I was making the right move. Nevertheless, I told him if I received nothing, I would still be baptized.
Very quietly, instantly, definitely, two scriptures came to my mind: “Ye shall receive power, after that the Holy Ghost is come upon you” (Acts 1:8), and “By this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye have love one to another” (John 13:35). I was satisfied and slept peacefully.
That Monday morning as I was brought from the water, I felt as if I had been on a long, wearisome journey and had at last come home. My own conviction of the authenticity of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints has grown since that time. Now I add my testimony to those of faithful Saints throughout the world.

Everyone knew that Dallas Stock, a rodeo cowboy, was tough. What they didn’t know was how that toughness would be tested.
For some years Dallas had not been active in the Church, but through the loving influence of his wife, Ginny, and their five children, along with the inspired efforts of ward leaders and friends, Dallas eventually had a change of heart. As his bishop, I rejoiced to see him progress to the point that he wanted to take his family to the temple. He prepared himself, and the family set a date to go to the house of the Lord.
One week before that date, Dallas was working on the stake welfare ranch, loading bulls into trucks. A temperamental bull was not cooperating, and to protect himself, Dallas jumped behind a gate. But as the bull hit the gate, it swung around, and the bull smashed Dallas between the gate and a fence. His arm and several ribs were broken, and he was badly bruised.
That evening I visited Dallas. He was in severe pain, with his arm in a cast and his ribs taped. I suggested that perhaps the temple trip should be postponed. His response was, “Bishop, I am going to the temple next Wednesday.”
No one expected to see Dallas at church on Sunday. But he was there, fulfilling his calling by conducting Sunday School. It was a painful ordeal for him, but his devotion was inspiring to ward members.
On Wednesday Dallas, Ginny, their children, and many family and ward members attended the temple as planned. With a son on one side and a son-in-law on the other, Dallas went through the endowment session. Each time he moved, the ward members could almost feel the pain they imagined Dallas must be suffering.
After Ginny and Dallas were sealed to each other and to their children in the sealing room, the ward members, with tears in their eyes, lined up to congratulate them. I started to hug Dallas but stopped and said, “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Bishop,” Dallas replied, “I don’t hurt at all. I can tell you I haven’t hurt all day.”
“It looked so painful,” I said.
“It was hard to get up and down,” he explained, “but it hasn’t hurt at all.”
As I left the temple I was overcome by everything that had taken place. How grateful I was that Dallas had been blessed as he made every effort to get to the temple with his family. That day we witnessed not the strength of a cowboy but the strength of a spiritual giant.

In August 2003 I started my own company doing painting, gardening, landscaping, and maintenance work. Things aren’t always easy when you have your own company, especially when starting out. At the beginning of one month, Rebeca and I needed to pay rent for our home. We didn’t have a penny. So one morning we prayed that we might somehow obtain the money we needed. Later that day I was hired for a job that paid enough to cover our rent.

Karen and Susan Jacobs of Walnut Creek, California, found it fun and rewarding. It started when Karen was in the fifth grade at the American School in Copenhagen, Denmark. She was looking for a subject for a rather ambitious American history report. The teacher called for footnotes, bibliography, note cards, and oral reports—everything. Her biggest challenge was to choose a subject. Her parents suggested that she do her report on the Mormon trek westward.
“Why not?” she said.
Once started it was an easier topic to write on than most, with all that help at home, her interest, and her background on the subject from Primary and Sunday School.
Few in the class knew much about the Mormons, and the oral report, filled with interest-raising points, created a lively discussion for months afterwards. She got an A grade too!

Julie B. Beck, Relief Society general president, explains that “providing for ourselves and others is evidence that we are disciples of the Lord Jesus Christ. … When [my mother-in-law] passed away suddenly last year, she left evidence of her self-reliant life. She had a current temple recommend and well-used scriptures and gospel study manuals. We lovingly divided up the pots, pans, and dishes with which she had prepared thousands of meals. She left us quilts she had made from old clothing. She believed in the old adage ‘Use it up, wear it out, make it do, or do without.’ We saw the supply of food she had grown, preserved, and stored. Particularly touching were her little account books in which she faithfully recorded her expenditures over many years. Because she lived providently, she left some money she had saved for emergencies, and she left no debts! Most importantly, she had taught and inspired many others with the skills she had acquired during her faithful life.”2

“I’m the product of a broken family,” he explains. When J-Ephraim was nine, his father left the family. Suddenly J-Ephraim’s mother had to raise him and his two younger siblings alone. Things weren’t easy for any of them.
“I felt a lot of anger at first,” J-Ephraim admits. He wasn’t alone, either. “There was a lot of anger and sadness in our whole family.”
They each had to learn to live without a father around. Sometimes, the extra stress and sadness would lead to arguments. That’s when J-Ephraim decided to work on yet another talent: becoming a peacemaker.
“I try to be a peacemaker in our house, especially with my younger siblings.”
“I try to be a peacemaker in our house, especially with my younger siblings.” His efforts are paying off too. While he’s the first to admit that arguments still happen, they’re all pulling together as a family to keep the arguing down and to continually strengthen their relationships. “We are very close as a family!” J-Ephraim says.
There’s one more secret to their success. J-Ephraim points to a simple but profound reason for his family’s closeness: “We keep following the teachings of Jesus Christ,” he says.
“One of the main reasons why we remain united to this day is because we stayed in the Church and kept following Jesus Christ,” J-Ephraim points out. “We attend sacrament meeting each Sunday and hold a family home evening each week.”
Spending time outside together is only one way this family stays close.
They also spend quality time together daily. “We always support each other in the talents we have and with the choices we make,” he says. Whether that means hanging out at the park, helping each other with homework, attending Church as a family, or spending time in the kitchen and laughing together, they know the importance of building their family a little bit more each day.
J-Ephraim and family have learned the value in learning together—whether that’s homework, scriptures, or new hobbies.
“Over time I’ve been able to forgive my father,” he says. When it comes to forgiveness, J-Ephraim has figured out something that many struggle a lifetime to learn. “When I forgive someone, that anger in my heart will go away, and I don’t have to dwell on it anymore.”
“When I forgive someone, that anger in my heart will go away, and I don’t have to dwell on it anymore.”
Now, admittedly, that’s often easier said than done. How do we forgive somebody when we can’t seem to find the strength to do so? Once again, J-Ephraim points to Jesus Christ. “Jesus Christ’s power gives us the strength and guidance to triumph over our obstacles in life,” he says. “In our world today, there are so many challenges and temptations that could easily break us spiritually, emotionally, mentally, and physically. Christ can make it easier for us.”
His skills in the kitchen may take him far one day. But J-Ephraim’s decision to rely on Jesus Christ as his strength will take him infinitely further.
During the past few years, J-Ephraim has found a lot of hope and encouragement from the same scripture that was used in the 2023 youth theme: “I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me” (Philippians 4:13).
“When I remember that verse, I remember that Christ can guide us in any of the challenges that we face.”