Gospel Story Finder

Years ago, while I was serving as a bishop, a handsome young man resisted my invitation to become worthy to live with God in families forever. In a belligerent way he told me of the good times he had with his friends. I let him talk. Then he told me about a moment during one of his parties, in the midst of the raucous noise, when he suddenly realized that he felt lonely. I asked him what had happened. He said that he had remembered a time as a little boy, sitting on his mother’s lap, with her arms around him. For that moment while he told that story, he teared up. I said to him what I know is true: “The only way you can have the feeling of that family embrace forever is to become worthy yourself and help others to receive the sealing ordinances of the temple.”

I may have shared this with some of you before. When I was a little boy growing up in Arkansas, we were the only Latter-day Saints in the city of Little Rock for many, many years. (It was ironic; I went back the other day as a General Authority to reorganize the stake and the building sits on a plot of ground where I used to play ball as a little boy.) And I have thought many times how grateful I am for parents and teachers, even those not of my faith, who imbued in me a sense of worth in those early formative years of my life. Here is an example: When I was about twelve years old, planning what I thought was to be a great athletic career, I opened up the sport page one day and there was an announcement. It said, “New York Yankees to play two exhibition ball games in Little Rock.” Keep in mind, young people, that in those days we did not have the winter leagues as we now have and there was no television. For a little boy of age twelve in Little Rock to see a major league game was impossible. Travel was completely restricted. Funds were just not available.

During the weeks before the New York Yankees came to Little Rock, I secured the position of bat boy for the local team. Out of forty-three applicants, somehow I got the job. You can appreciate the excitement this meant for me because this would put me on the ball field at the same time the Yankees would be practicing and performing.

On the morning of the occasion, I remember that I went out to Travelers Field and waited for the Yankee bus to come. The bus was due at nine; I arrived at six. I stood there with my hat and my glove and my little heart pounding because on the Yankee team was my favorite player, Lou Gehrig. Anything Lou Gehrig did I followed. During that same year I read about his diet. Lou Gehrig ate six eggs for breakfast and so did I. Lou Gehrig ate Wheaties for breakfast—or so the ad said—and so did I.

As the bus arrived and one by one the players got off, I stood there with my heart pounding, waiting for that special moment. Finally Gehrig made his exit and I remember looking at him and thinking, “He’s real! He moves!” and I followed him onto the field.

The manager assigned me to shag balls in the outfield and I about got bombarded with fly balls trying to watch Gehrig on the practice field and retrieve the baseballs. After he had taken his turn at the batting cage, he circled the field several times to get his legs in shape and then headed for the dugout. I thought, “Here’s my chance to be alone with him.” So I grabbed a fairly good-looking baseball off the field and ran as hard as I could to follow him.

When I got to the dugout, he had disappeared. I had a little courage and started down the stairs and up the corridor into the clubhouse. Then this gigantic trainer came out of nowhere. “Hey, kid, where are you going?”

He scared me. I just held up the baseball and said, “Ball.”

He said, “You can’t go in there. That’s for players only.”

“I’m the bat boy for the other team.”

“I don’t care who you are,” and he mentioned some adjectives we do not use in church. I learned then that there are some people who do not understand youth.

I turned very dejectedly to walk out of the dugout, got to the top step, and a deep voice from in the dugout said, “Hey, trainer, that boy’s with me.” And I turned around and in the shadow was Lou Gehrig.

I remember looking at the trainer and saying with my chin out, “Yeah, we’re together.”

I walked down the stairs and Gehrig came over and put that big old lovable arm around me and said, “What can I do for you, son?”

I said, “Ball.”

He took the baseball and looked at it and said, “You don’t have any autographs.”

“I want yours.”

“Wouldn’t you like the other Yankees to sign it?”

“Well, yes.”

He said, “Look, why don’t you go finish your practice and as soon as you get through out there and the players come in, I’ll take you into the clubhouse and we’ll get all the Yankees to sign it. All right?”

“All right.”

The moment after the practice was over, I met my friend and he took me into the clubhouse. Seated at the first cubicle as we walked in the door was a hometown boy who had gone on to be a Hall of Famer and, I think, the greatest catcher the game ever produced, Bill Dickey. Lou Gehrig said, “Hey, Bill, this kid thinks you’re kind of important. Would you sign his ball?” And Bill Dickey signed it. We made a tour around the whole clubhouse. Over in the corner, up from San Francisco that year, was the rookie of the Yankees, Joe DiMaggio. Gehrig said, “Hey, Joe, this kid thinks you’re going places. Would you sign his ball?” And he signed it. Then Gehrig took it and he put, “To my friend, Paul Dunn.” Well, that was the celestial kingdom. Then he put his arm around me and said, “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

I said, “I want to grow up and be like you and play ball.”

And he patted me on the head and said, “Oh, I think you’ll do better.”

And I said, “But every time I go out to play I get so nervous and afraid I can’t perform.” You see, I was starting to feel inferior.

He asked, “You going to be out here tomorrow?”

I said, “I live here.”

“Let me think about this and you and I get together tomorrow. Would you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“That was the longest night I ever spent in my life. Would you understand, young people, that I took my baseball and glove to bed? My mother came in about eleven o’clock and said, “What are you doing with that dirty thing in bed?”

The next morning the Yankees were due at nine and I was there at six. We went through the same ritual. This time I was asked to shag balls behind the batting-practice pitcher so he would not have to bend over so far throwing baseballs in for practice hitting. Red Ruffin, another Hall of Famer, was on the mound and he had a vocabulary that was interesting for a twelve-year-old to hear. About the fifth batter into the batting cage was Gehrig and my heart beat a little faster as he stepped in. As he walked up, after knocking the dirt out of his cleats, he stood there and adjusted his cap. Then he looked out to his friend Ruffin and said, “Hey, Red, let that kid behind you pitch to me.”

And I went, “Enhhh!”

Red did not want to. He said, “Oh, I want to get through, Lou, and take a shower.”

And Gehrig just stood there. “I said let the boy pitch.”

Ruffin turned around and said, “Here, kid.”

You ladies may not know it, but a baseball only weighs about five and a half ounces–but it felt like a sixteen-pound shot put. I walked up onto the mound. I was sixty feet, six inches from my idol. He could see I was concerned. I was feeling very inferior. He took that magnificent bat and just held it there and then pushed it out. He said, “Just aim at the bat, son.” And I threw the ball somewhere in the park. Then I got one reasonably close and he hit a little ground ball back to me. And then he hit another one. And then he hit a short pop fly over second. Then, about the fourth or fifth pitch, he let go. The right field wall of the Little Rock playing field was 395 feet away, but the ball just tailed out. Then he fit another one right behind it. And a third. I felt a little better because I was getting the ball close. I wound up—you know, how hard can a twelve-year-old throw?—and I just grooved that pitch. He took that mighty Gehrig swing and he missed. He stood up said, “Beautiful!”

I remember growing on the mound and thinking, “Look out, world; I’m coming.” It took me several years before I realized he did that on purpose. Some people know how to teach youth.

He called me off the mound, put his arm around me and said, “You remember the question you asked me yesterday?”

“Yes, sir.”

He said, “I’ve watched you very closely this morning. You’re going to be great and I’m counting on you. Let me just teach you one little lesson. Just remember, young man, every time you walk out on the ball field and you feel nervous and concerned and like you can’t do it, know that so do we, and that’s the Lord’s way.” Imagine this nonmember athlete talking to a boy this way! I think about this quite often as I turn on my television set and see some so-called athletes with a can of light beer in their hands. And we call that a hero?

Here was that wonderful man saying, “Whenever I walk out on a ball field I feel nervous and concerned but I am reminded there’s a higher source than you and me and I’d better call on it. And remember this: in the game of life, my boy, there are eight other players on the ball field and you can’t go alone. It’s a team effort.” I have never forgotten. Then he said as we walked away, “You’ll find as you grow a little older that there will be people who will tell you you can’t, and they’ll even be in your profession. Whenever that occurs, you tell them I said you could.”

On my eighteenth birthday, I signed a professional baseball contract and was sent to the Pioneer League. I won my first ball game seven to one, and that was a proud moment. I walked off the field and the coach on the opposing team said in a sneery voice, “Hey, kid, whoever said you could pitch?”

I looked right at him and said, “Gehrig.”

And he said, “Oh.”

Thank God for great leaders and teachers.

Elder Gérald Caussé (France): In our family we have decided that Christmas is not just about having fun together, but it is also about focusing on Christ and serving others. About 10 years ago we formed a choir of family members. We went to hospitals and retirement homes and sang Christmas songs. At first it was a small group. We had babies in our arms and in strollers. But now these babies have grown up, and they are seasoned choristers. We have a 44-person choir sharing not only traditional French carols but also Church hymns, and we find great success. After singing, the children go and distribute to the sick or elderly little presents we have prepared as a family. We try to have time with each person, talking about the true meaning of Christmas and also listening to him or her. Everyone always has a lot to share.
Our visits are special occasions to remember what we know about being a Christian and bearing the name of Christ. Christmas is a good reminder of how we need to behave during the whole year.

I well remember one of my first semesters at the university. I was taking a physics course and had dutifully attended each session, taking copious notes. There were times I had actually picked up the text and read portions of it, and so I felt somewhat confident as I walked into class the day of my first midterm. That was a memorable experience for me, and one I am not likely to soon forget. I sat down at my desk with the exam and read through the questions on the first page, and then the following pages. I just sat there dazed for a few moments, unable to answer any question, when finally a brilliant thought occurred to me. I got up, walked to the back and checked the number on the door with the hope that I had accidentally walked into the wrong room. That hope quickly died as I immediately realized that I was indeed in the correct room, on the correct day, with the correct test in front of me. Sadly, as I returned to my seat with pencil in hand and an untouched answer sheet next to the test, I had to come to grips with the fact that there was hardly a question that evoked even an inkling of familiarity for me. So, I did the only thing I could, under the circumstances. I panicked and burst into tears, and in the end gave a much less than stellar performance on the exam.

My father was a professor at that same university, and he highly valued both education and hard work. He often used to tell us children, You can do anything in this world you want if you are willing to pay the price. And if you really want it, the price will be worth it. I really wanted to not fail physics, but it was clear that the price I would have to pay would be much more than I had given to my studies in high school. I moped and worried, got angry and then depressed. Finally, I paid the price meaning in this case, I put in the kind of hard work a college physics class demanded and, although definitely not the class star, I am happy to report that in the end I passed the course.

That was actually a critical point in my life as I had to acknowledge that no matter how smart or talented or attractive or humble or spiritual we are, there will always be things that create challenges for us. And actually, that seems to be an essential part of the Lord's plan for us that we are tried and tested in ways that lead to growth experiences. There are just a lot of things in life that are hard, and we can be defeated by them or we can make the decision to not give up, to hang in there and keep moving forward towards our goals.

Let me conclude with an account of two men who are heroes to me. Their acts of courage were not performed on a national scale, but rather in a peaceful valley known as Midway, Utah.

Long years ago, Roy Kohler and Grant Remund served together in Church capacities. They were the best of friends. They were tillers of the soil and dairymen. Then a misunderstanding arose which became somewhat of a rift between them.

Later, when Roy Kohler became grievously ill with cancer and had but a limited time to live, my wife, Frances, and I visited Roy and his wife, and I gave him a blessing. As we talked afterward, Brother Kohler said, “Let me tell you about one of the sweetest experiences I have had during my life.” He then recounted to me his misunderstanding with Grant Remund and the ensuing estrangement. His comment was, “We were sort of on the outs with each other.”

“Then,” continued Roy, “I had just put up our hay for the winter to come, when one night, as a result of spontaneous combustion, the hay caught fire, burning the hay, the barn, and everything in it right to the ground. I was devastated,” said Roy. “I didn’t know what in the world I would do. The night was dark, except for the dying embers of the fire. Then I saw coming toward me from the road, in the direction of Grant Remund’s place, the lights of tractors and heavy equipment. As the ‘rescue party’ turned in our drive and met me amidst my tears, Grant said, ‘Roy, you’ve got quite a mess to clean up. My boys and I are here. Let’s get to it.’” Together they plunged to the task at hand. Gone forever was the hidden wedge which had separated them for a short time. They worked throughout the night and into the next day, with many others in the community joining in.

Roy Kohler has passed away, and Grant Remund is getting older. Their sons have served together in the same ward bishopric. I truly treasure the friendship of these two wonderful families.

I was eighteen—and enrolled in a Book of Mormon class at Brigham Young University—when I realized I did not know whether the gospel was true. The realization itself was shock, since I had collected an array of hundred-percent awards, been extremely active in every kind of church activity, and always assumed that the Church was true. But assumption is not knowledge.
So, obedient and believing, I applied the instructions in Alma 32 and Moroni 10:4–5, and I received from God the verification I sought.

On 8 October 2024, 31 young single adults from Papua New Guinea arrived in Tonga to attend the Nuku‘alofa Tonga Temple for the first time. The group included two full-time missionaries serving in the Papua New Guinea Lae Mission and most of the others have received or are waiting to receive mission calls.
They were warmly welcomed at the airport with traditional candy leis by former Lae mission leaders, Sitiveni and Kilisitina Fehoko (2016–2019), as well as several returned missionaries who served in Papua New Guinea.
After receiving their own endowments, the young adults lovingly performed proxy baptisms, initiatory, and endowments for their grandparents and other ancestors. They finished their temple service with a final sealing session, linking and uniting generations with eternal sealing power.
The young single adults had researched family names in anticipation of doing temple work for their deceased relatives.
In the evenings, they were met by Elder Sione Tuione, an Area Seventy as well as former mission leaders in New Guinea including Isileli and Milika Fatani, (Papua New Guinea Lae Mission 2019–2022), Mosese and Akanesi Naeata (Papua New Guinea Port Moresby Mission 1997–2000), and the Fehokos who offered powerful messages of faith in the Lord Jesus Christ and eternal families.
The Fatanis and Fehokos provided delicious Tongan feasts and local wards hosted dances each evening, which the young adults loved.
The young adults also enjoyed an afternoon of sightseeing and shopping. Several of them received dental care at the Church’s dental clinic at Liahona High School.
The hearts of the children turning to their fathers were evident in their words, which they recorded in journals given to each of them.
These wonderful young single adults from Papua New Guinea are eagerly waiting to attending the temple again when the Port Moresby Papua New Guinea Temple construction will be complete.

One evening we were eating treats outside and reading in the Book of Mormon about the fall of the Nephites. I felt impressed to ask the children why they thought the Nephites had turned so wicked. Six-year-old Celeste said she thought the Nephites and Lamanites had stopped saying their daily prayers. We all agreed that the fall of the Nephites started with forgetting prayer and other seemingly little things. At that moment, the thought came to me to invite the children to pray with more thought and feeling.

The following day I asked them how their prayers went. This gave them a chance to share their experiences and gave me a chance to further share my testimony of prayer. Not every family scripture study experience has gone this well, but when we have had discussions and invitations to act as part of our study, the scriptures have become more meaningful.

A few years back a youth sacrament meeting speaker invited those who weren’t sure they felt God’s love to pray and ask whether Heavenly Father loves them.
I took that invitation to heart. Unbeknownst to me, my older sister also decided to do it. We each prayed individually that night. Months later we shared our experiences with one another. I told her how some time after praying, I’d allowed my mind to wander, eventually recalling a poem I had read about the Savior’s love. I had been overwhelmed by the Spirit, and I had felt of the joy of both my Heavenly Father’s and Savior’s love for me. Tears of joy had crept to my eyes, and I had again folded my arms, this time in a prayer of gratitude.
My sister, however, recollected to me that she felt as if she hadn’t received an answer like I had—no enlightening moment or warmth from the Spirit. At first she was disappointed. But in time, she came to realize that she didn’t need an answer like mine: she already knew. And that was her answer.

Amanda was not a member of the Church when she and Bert met, nor was she a Latter-day Saint when they married a few years later. Bert had become somewhat active during his air force training in California; but, he says, “things were moving slowly for me.” Shortly after their marriage, however, “my life started to change because of her.
“We were married after I was commissioned as an officer in the air force.” (Amanda, by this time, had earned a degree in secondary education from the University of Hawaii.) “For a while we lived in California; then we moved to Kansas after some air force training in Texas. Two weeks after we arrived in Kansas, I think the Lord felt it was time that Amanda found out about the Church. Although we had been attending meetings, we hadn’t gotten really serious about the Church.
Bert was sent to Greenland for 109 days, and since the couple had not yet found an apartment in Kansas, Amanda stayed with Bert’s cousin and his wife. The relatives were active Church members, and they and the stake missionaries began encouraging Amanda to schedule her baptism for the same day as the cousin’s eight-year-old daughter’s.
Amanda was unhappy about the situation. “I didn’t think they should know when I was going to be ready; but they said they knew, and they had set the date.”
“I felt a little bad about that,” says Bert, remembering the letter Amanda sent him at the time. “I was a little embarrassed, because that was my church. But then the next week I got another letter saying, ‘I’m sorry, I can’t wait any longer. I’m being baptized Saturday.’”
“They did know,” smiles Amanda. “I was ready.”
Following Amanda’s conversion, Bert began to progress in the Church as well. He was ordained a priest, then an elder, and the DuPonts were soon sealed in the temple.

I remember well the afternoon a few years ago when I went up in an airplane with an instructor for a lesson on flying using the control panel instruments only with no reference to the surrounding countryside.
It was a crystal clear day, though a few gusty winds were blowing. We left the field, flying due north into a chilly wind blowing directly against us. When we reached the right altitude, the instructor put a special hood over my head so that all I could see was the instrument panel. After an hour’s lesson we stopped in an airport about a hundred miles north to eat and make another check on the weather.
It was early evening when we climbed into the airplane for our return flight. Both of us were a little nervous because a small storm was moving into our flight path, and as we climbed toward the clouds we could feel the increased power of the winds. Now we would have an opportunity for some real instrument flying.
I wasn’t really worried until the instructor told me to put on the hood because I was going to fly us home. As we flew into the storm, the weather started tossing us around. But the instructor assured me that things were well under control: all I had to do was fly by the instruments just as I had done in practice, and follow his directions.
As the minutes went by and we flew deeper into the turbulence, a terrible fear began to grip me and I began to feel a dizziness as if the airplane were in a turn, slightly diving. Panicking, I started making what I perceived as corrections to our flight. My instructor had to tell me four times that the instruments were correct and that I should trust them, not my own judgment.
After several more minutes of agony and constant reassurances from my instructor that the instruments were indeed telling the truth, I couldn’t take the suspense any longer and tore off the hood to see for myself. When I looked through the window, all I could see was the rain streaking out of a pitch-black sky at us. My face went pale, and a terrified expression swept over me.
My instructor said, “Norman, you’ve been sitting here for twenty-five minutes with a clear signal and true instruments to follow, but you’ve steered off course thirty-two times and have dropped the airplane nine hundred feet in elevation. Now you really don’t know where you are. Let me show you something.”
He took the controls and with little effort started climbing up through the clouds. Eight hundred feet later we were above the tops of the clouds that were glistening under the light of a beautiful full moon. In the near distance on the side of a hill we saw two large red lights on top of a broadcasting tower. On the other side of that hill through an opening in the clouds we could see a faint green and white airport light flashing out a signal that to us meant home.
After a safe landing, I felt that I had been taught one of those great lessons we are sent here to earth to learn: that the Lord gives us fine instruments, a good strong signal, and many clear markers, and still we sometimes stray from their indications and fall into a sea of confusion. Yet if we will trust those signals and follow them, whether we fully understand them or not, we will be able to fly above the clouds, safe and secure, knowing our course and our destination.

Hironui Johnston, 16, and his sister Merirani, 15, spend a lot of time at the Papeete Tahiti Temple.
They aren’t performing baptisms for the dead, except for a couple times each year. They aren’t even inside the temple. They’re on the temple grounds—not gardening or doing some other service project—just sitting or walking around. But always looking.
“I love to see the temple,” says Merirani. “We have a lot of good memories here.”
Hironui and Merirani go to the temple grounds because of how they feel there. It’s a place where they can get away from the world.
“Our neighborhood isn’t bad, but there are some bad kids there,” says Hironui. “So we spend time here. It feels so good to be on the temple grounds.”
Sometimes their whole family comes, whether for a family home evening activity or just to spend time together.
“Sometimes when we aren’t getting along, we come here to put things right again,” Hironui says. But even when the Johnstons aren’t at the temple, the temple is part of their lives.
“I think we have a picture of the temple in every room in our house,” Hironui says. “It’s beautiful. It reminds us that our family can be together forever. Seeing it helps us feel the same peaceful spirit.”
“We watch our parents go to the temple,” says Hironui. “We see them living worthy to go. We see how their temple attendance blesses us, and we choose to follow them.”
That love for the temple, which began with the Johnstons’ parents, has been passed on to Hironui and Merirani. And it won’t end there. Their actions can pass it on to the next generation.
“I want to have children someday,” says Merirani. “I want to teach them that the temple is the house of the Lord and that if we are faithful we can be together forever because of the temple.”
“The blessings of the temple go both ways. This generation is being blessed today. As they grow and do the work for their ancestors, those blessings reach into the past. And as this generation begins raising the next, those blessings will roll on into the future.
“The Lord has given us a real blessing by building His house in our land,” Merirani says. “But the greatest blessing is that through the ordinances of the temple, our ancestors and families can be sealed together, and we can all live with our Father again. I would do anything for that blessing.”

One of the favorite stories of our family comes from a true incident in the life of a woman who was the victim of cerebral palsy. The woman tells how as a child she would look forward to meeting her father at the gate of the ranch corral each evening as he returned from rounding up the cattle. He would drive the herd into the corral, close the big gate, and then hoist her up into his arms and steady her hand as she practiced placing the rope over the post to secure the gate. One evening she waited in her usual place by the gate. She watched as the cattle ran into the corral. Then she looked for her father, but he did not come. Panic struck her as she realized the gate must be closed and secured without his steadying hand to guide her own. It was with great effort and struggle that she tried over and over again to slide the rope up and over the gate post. With great concentration and with her strength almost completely exhausted, she finally succeeded. As she completed what was for her a very difficult task, she looked up to see her father nearby. He had been there for some time watching her determined struggle, wanting to reach out and help her and to steady and guide her hands as he usually did; but he knew she needed that experience. She needed to know she could do the task and thus gain the confidence to try other difficult tasks on her own. As much as he loved her and wanted to make her trial easier, he had to permit her to struggle, to learn through her own efforts the satisfaction that comes from personal sacrifice and achievement.

When I was rushed to the emergency room with both of my lungs collapsed, I thought I was at the end of my life. I was not yet ready emotionally or spiritually for the end, but my body was giving up on me. It was hard for my family to see me in that condition, but they remained strong, and I was blessed to have survived.
My struggles did not end there. Since then, I’ve had to live my life with only one functioning lung and a curved spine. Every day is painful and difficult. I once thought that I would be better off dead rather than to continue suffering. I felt weak, not just physically, but mentally and spiritually as well. I lost hope and confidence. I began to push away the people in my life who encouraged me. But my family never gave up on me. They loved and cared for me, and my friends continued to support me. Even so, I still felt that my future was not going to be as bright as I had imagined.
One night I found myself feeling so down. I decided I needed to read my patriarchal blessing. Tears came to my eyes the moment I read the first few lines, “Our Father in Heaven cares for you and loves you. He wants you to be happy in this life.”
In that moment, I realized that Heavenly Father really has a very bright future in store for me and wonderful blessings for me to anticipate as long as I follow the path He wants me to take.
Our Father in Heaven knew that we would all struggle, so He sent His Son, Jesus Christ, to suffer for us and to comfort us. That’s how vast Their love for us is. I may still struggle every day of my life here on earth, but I know that Their love will always be there for me and Their promises will be all fulfilled if I hold on and follow Them.

Sara had an embarrassing sports experience as well. She was a pretty good basketball player, and right in the middle of an exciting game she got her directions confused and scored in the wrong team’s basket.
Sara wanted to crawl under the bleachers, until she saw how nice the other girls on the team were being about it. When she realized that this one little mistake would not be the end of her high school career, she was able to laugh the whole thing off and be a lot more empathetic when others made embarrassing mistakes.

Tomorrow is the one-year anniversary of the terrible events that occurred in New York, Washington, D.C., and Pennsylvania, when terrorists hijacked four airplanes in an attempt to rob America of its safety and security. On September 11, 2001, Sister Bateman and I were scheduled to give the first devotional of the school year. We awoke early to prepare for the day. During the morning we turned on the television to listen to the news. It was not long before the cameras shifted to New York and the north tower of the World Trade Center, which had just been hit. The announcer noted that an airplane had crashed into the tower, puncturing the building just below the 100th floor. They were uncertain as to whether it was an accident or a deliberate act. A short time later, while the cameras were still focused on the twin towers, another plane came into view headed for the second tower. What followed was an unbelievable sight. United Flight 175 continued its course, crashing into the south tower. At that point it was apparent that the acts were deliberate, the planes had been hijacked, hundreds of lives had been taken, and thousands were now in danger. The floors that had been hit became drenched with airplane fuel, and soon the towers were raging infernos in the upper reaches of the buildings. All of us watching feared for the lives of those who were on the upper floors. Little did we understand what was about to happen. Within an hour the blazing heat generated by the fireball melted the steel infrastructure, bringing the south tower crashing to the ground. The north tower followed 29 minutes later.

As Sister Bateman and I watched, we became concerned about the students at BYU. It did not seem appropriate to move forward with the regular devotional, but we felt a strong need to gather the BYU community together to briefly discuss the events and then counsel together regarding the challenges that lay ahead. In the special devotional one year ago, we indicated that there was no reason to fear for our lives or the lives of loved ones unless they were in the planes or at the sites of impact.

It seemed like a silly thing to fight over, and 12-year-old Ava Rosenberg didn’t want to fight. But another 12-year-old girl at school kept insisting that Ava had stolen her pen.
“She claimed my pen was hers and that I had taken it,” Ava explains. “I think she was trying to start a fight. What scared me was when, a few days later, her older sister got involved.”
The two sisters were from a dysfunctional home. Their mother would take off periodically and leave the children in care of their alcoholic father, who also left them alone a lot. The older sister, age 15, was a gang member with a long criminal record. She threatened to harm Ava.
For two weeks the threats continued. One day Ava, concerned for her safety, asked for permission to stay in the classroom during lunch. That isn’t normally allowed, but the teacher made an exception.
“After a while, I asked if I could go to the drinking fountain,” Ava says. “As soon as I left the classroom, I saw a lot of people coming. They were saying, ‘She’s the girl!’ I tried to walk away from it, but the next thing I knew, I got kicked in the stomach and punched in the jaw. I fell down, and this girl was beating my head into the ground.”
Ava’s mother had come to the school to discuss the threats against her daughter. When she arrived, she found Ava in the office in a terrible state of shock—her face discolored, swollen, and bleeding, her jaw severely dislocated.
“We spent many hours at the hospital,” Sister Rosenberg says. “What followed was a nightmare of unsuccessful operations, culminating eventually in Ava receiving a bone graft from her lower jaw to her upper jaw, secured by a titanium plate and screws. As a result, her face was severely traumatized and she was in a great deal of pain.”
Ava finally came out of the hospital on a Saturday. The next day was fast Sunday, and during testimony meeting, Ava stood to speak. It was physically difficult to form the words, and tears filled her eyes. But Ava had something important to say. She asked the congregation to fast and pray—that the Lord would bless the girl who had done this to her.
“The scars from my injuries will heal,” Ava said. “But the girl who attacked me has deeper scars inside. I have a loving family and the gospel to get me through. She has neither. Pray for her. Pray that the missionaries can find her and teach her, so that she can turn from hate to love.”
Many in the congregation were moved by Ava’s example of forgiveness. To her, however, it was simply a matter of doing what the Savior taught. “We’re supposed to love our enemies,” she says matter-of-factly. “When I was in the hospital, I couldn’t speak because I was in so much pain. But I could think, and I remember thinking to myself, What would the Savior do?”
The attack on Ava took place in Darwin, Northern Territory, in June of 1991. The legal system is still dealing with the attacker. But since then, despite a lengthy time when Ava wasn’t allowed to go outside the house without an escort, despite continued gang threats against her family’s home and property, despite having to repeatedly fly more than 3,000 kilometers each way to Adelaide for surgeries, and despite lingering pain and a sometimes discouraging recovery, those who know Ava have never heard her say a single word against the girl who beat her.
The Rosenbergs now live in Kirwan, Queensland, where Ava is a happy, active Mia Maid in the Townsville Branch. “I will probably have a plate in my jaw all my life,” she says. “But it doesn’t matter because I know I will be healed in the celestial kingdom. I just hope and pray that my assailant will be healed too.”

A couple of months ago, I was going through a rough time and felt that my life was falling apart. I’d been told many times that our trials make us stronger, but remembering that didn’t take away my pain. After one particularly rough day at high school and a stressful evening, I felt alone. I was in the midst of despair, and I couldn’t see a way to overcome what I was feeling. Then I had an overwhelming desire to pray. I resisted at first—that solution seemed too easy to bring the peace I was seeking—but then I changed my mind. I prayed for comfort and for the strength to rise above my trials. As I did so, my pain and grief were taken away and were replaced by an overwhelming, all-encompassing feeling of peace and joy.
I rarely cry, but that day I wept. That was the moment I really understood that I am a child of God and felt how much I matter to Him. Now, every time I feel alone or am in pain, I pray. Sometimes the relief doesn’t come instantly, but it always comes. Prayer is how I withstand the teasing, temptations, and other hard things that sometimes come into my life. I’m so grateful to have the gospel in my life and to be a child of God.

I was baptized on April 26, 2009, by Zach’s dad, Brother Simons. I had the support of the entire ward, my family, and my friends. I have never felt so beautiful in my life as I did in my white dress and as I made that wonderful covenant with my Heavenly Father. Afterward, I was given the gift of the Holy Ghost by Brother Davis, whose entire family was especially supportive of me while I was investigating the Church. I was so touched, and I knew that the words he said were from Heavenly Father.

Shellie and her friends were sitting on her front porch talking.
“My daddy makes people well,” Cindy said. “He’s the most important daddy in the whole world!”
“Oh, no,” answered Robert. “My daddy’s the most important daddy in the whole world. He puts out fires!”
“Well, I think my daddy’s the most important,” said Henry. “He teaches school!”
Shellie sat and listened to her friends talk about their dads, but she didn’t say anything.
My daddy must be important, she thought, but I don’t know why.
That evening after supper Shellie’s daddy sat down on the couch to read the newspaper.
Shellie went over and cuddled up next to him.
“Daddy, is your work important?” she asked.
Daddy thought for a moment. “Yes, Shellie, my work is very important.”
“Is it more important than making people well or putting out fires or teaching school?”
Daddy thought again. “Let’s just say it’s as important,” he replied, “but not more important.”
Shellie frowned a little bit. She wanted her daddy to be the most important daddy in the whole world.
“Hey, I see a frowny face,” said Daddy. “It looks like this.” Then he made a big frowny face that was so funny Shellie laughed out loud.
“Do you know what I do to people who have frowny faces?” asked Daddy. “I tickle them.”
Shellie tried to wiggle away, but she was too late. Daddy tickled her ribs and then he tickled her chin.
“What happened to that frowny face?” Daddy asked.
Shellie laughed and laughed. She looked at Daddy’s happy face and thought, My daddy is the most important daddy in the whole world because he makes me happy!
Then Shellie put her arms around her daddy’s neck and said, “I love you!”