Gospel Story Finder

There is yet another trial which, when endured well, can bring blessings in this life and blessings forever. Age and illness can test the best of us. My friend served as our bishop when my daughters were still at home. They speak of what they felt when he bore his simple testimony around campfires in the mountains. He loved them, and they knew it. He was released as our bishop. He had served as a bishop before in another state. Those I have met who were from his earlier ward remember him as my daughters do.

I visited him in his home from time to time to thank him and to give him priesthood blessings. His health began a slow decline. I can’t remember all the ailments he suffered. He needed surgery. He was in constant pain. Yet every time I visited him to give him comfort, he turned the tables; I always was the one comforted. His back and legs forced him to use a cane to walk. Yet there he was in church, always sitting near the door, where he could greet those arriving early, with a smile.

I will never forget the feeling of wonder and admiration which came over me when I opened the back door at home and saw him coming up our driveway. It was the day we put out our garbage cans to be picked up by city workers. I had put the can out in the morning. But there he was dragging my garbage can up the hill with one hand while he balanced himself with a cane in his other hand. He was giving me the help he thought I needed when he needed it far more than I did. And he was helping with a smile and without being asked.

I visited him when he finally had to be cared for by nurses and doctors. He was lying in a hospital bed, still in pain and still smiling. His wife had called me to say that he was getting weaker. My son and I gave him a priesthood blessing as he lay in the bed with tubes and bottles connected to him. I sealed the blessing with a promise that he would have time and the strength to do all that God had for him to do in this life, to pass every test. He stretched out his hand to grasp mine as I stepped away from his bed to leave. I was surprised at the strength of his grip and the firmness in his voice when he said, “I’m going to make it.”

I left thinking that I would see him again soon. But the phone call came within a day. He was gone to the glorious place where he will see the Savior, who is his perfect judge and will be ours. As I spoke at his funeral, I thought of the words of Paul when he knew that he would go to that place where my neighbor and friend has gone:
“But watch thou in all things, endure afflictions, do the work of an evangelist, make full proof of thy ministry.
“For I am now ready to be offered, and the time of my departure is at hand.
“I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith:
“Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, shall give me at that day: and not to me only, but unto all them also that love his appearing.”
I have confidence that my neighbor made it through his trial and will face his judge with a joyous smile.

There were some pretty strange pageants. The year that Mom was pregnant, she pulled out the slip of paper that said she had to be a Wise Man. My father drew out Mary. He said it ended up being the most moving Christmas pageant for him, even though most of us kids thought it was pretty funny. He said he had begun to understand what it meant to be Mary that year. And even at 14, I got pretty choked up when my pregnant mother appeared to give her gift to the baby Jesus. David was born that January.

We were excited when Sergio received his mission call to the Peru Chiclayo Mission. He began his service on November 20, 2013. He loved his mission. At first, it was easy to write to him. But as the months passed, I needed more time to think about his letters and respond to his spiritual growth.
We didn’t worry about Sergio. We thought that the mission field was the safest place he could be. His mission president called us on October 7, 2014.
The mission president told us that Sergio and his companion had been teaching investigators about the temple and eternal families. Afterward, as Sergio offered the closing prayer, he paused, suddenly lost consciousness, and fell to the floor. He received a blessing and was rushed to a medical center. Doctors determined that he had suffered a ruptured brain aneurysm. They tried in vain to revive him.
The news filled us with deep sorrow. Despite our grief, Liliana and I had to travel to Peru to retrieve Sergio’s body and personal belongings. We had difficulty thinking clearly, so we were grateful that someone from the Church—from the moment we left our home until we returned—was there to help us. We also received help from the Holy Ghost, who comforted us and helped us endure. We never felt alone.
It is difficult to find gratitude in tragedy, but I am grateful for the Lord’s tender mercies associated with Sergio’s death. When he died, I was serving as bishop, Liliana was teaching seminary, and our daughter Ximena was serving as ward Young Women president. We were busy serving and loving others, which grounded us in the gospel. If Sergio had to leave us, I will always be thankful that Heavenly Father took him while we were strong in the faith.
I am also grateful that Sergio departed this life while serving the Lord and while “in the service of [his] fellow beings” (Mosiah 2:17). The Lord has declared, “Those that die in me shall not taste of death, for it shall be sweet unto them” (D&C 42:46).
The Holy Ghost gave me a small glimpse of what Heavenly Father must have endured when His Only Begotten died for us. I realized that I didn’t have any right to be angry with God. My Father in Heaven knew what I was going through. A peace came over me that allowed me to accept His will and the timing of Sergio’s death. Liliana experienced and felt the same.
Our family had been sealed in the temple in 2005, when Sergio and Ximena were small. Ruth was born in the covenant a short while later. Before he left on his mission, Sergio baptized her.
Three days after his death, Ruth had a dream about Sergio. It was the night of her ninth birthday. Ruth dreamt that the two of them walked hand in hand together throughout the day and that he spoke comforting words to her.
Ruth and Ximena were very close to Sergio, and they miss him deeply. Ruth still receives comfort from the memory of her dream.
One day as we were going through Sergio’s belongings, Liliana and I found his mission day planner. We noticed that on each page of each day, Sergio had written the phrase “Be a little better than yesterday.”
Those words have never left me. They remind me that we must continue to live the gospel. That’s how we can be together as a family after this life. That’s how Sergio can be ours again.
As we pass through difficult times, the Savior will succor us. I know that is true, just as I know that His promises are sure. So we hold onto the gospel, and we follow Sergio’s example. We try to be a little better each day.

When my grandfather James E. Fisher was set apart as a missionary in 1892, he was told, “The Lord will provide food, raiment, and shelter for you.”
At age 19, grandfather had traveled 160 miles by horse and wagon from Meadow, Utah, to St. George to be married in the temple to Elizabeth Stewart. They returned to Meadow where they lived as farmers for the next six years. It was then that James E. received his mission call to New Zealand. It was common at that time to ask young married men to leave home and family to serve for two to five years.
For the next three years and four months, his young wife not only raised three children and (with the help of his brother Joseph) ran the farm; she also kept him on his mission by milking cows, selling eggs, and doing whatever else she could. They understood hardship and sacrifice better, I think, than we do today. But the Lord was mindful of them and blessed them according to his wisdom.
In New Zealand, Elder Fisher and his companion no doubt wondered and worried about their loved ones back home. In a new land with new customs, often relying on the kindness of others for shelter and sustenance, they must have felt out of place at times and in need of reassurance. The food commonly used by the Maori people was much different than that to which they were accustomed.
One day as the missionaries rode along on their horses, they talked about how much they missed the good, homemade bread so common back in Utah. Money from home had not yet arrived and they were, quite simply, hungry. Elder Fisher’s companion suggested that they were alone and could dismount. They went into the woods and prayed. They expressed their desire to serve, as well as their love and concern for those back home.
The two elders felt better, got back on their horses, and continued on their way. As they rode along, they noticed something just off the road. They dismounted and to their amazement found, wrapped in a white cloth, a fresh loaf of bread, the same kind of homemade bread they had talked about in their prayer. They rejoiced as they ate it, although it wasn’t the bread that was so important, but the reassurance that Heavenly Father knew who they were and where they were, that they had faithful wives and that the Lord’s kindness and goodness was over them all. Later, they both wrote home and told their wives of the incident.
At that time, it took six weeks for a letter to get from Utah to New Zealand, and it cost 50 cents for postage, which was then an enormous sum of money. Therefore letters were sent only about once a month.
About three months after the elders found the bread on the trail, Elder Fisher’s companion received a letter from his wife. She wrote that on that same day they made their discovery, she had been baking bread.
When she opened her oven to remove it, one of the pans was empty and a white cloth that had been on the table was gone. She had been home all the time and saw no one come or go.
Two missionaries in New Zealand had received an answer to prayer. The loaf of bread came to symbolize for them that it was Heavenly Father who had sent them to New Zealand and that he was supporting and watching over their families.
Incidentally, when James E. returned home, the farm had prospered and he and his wife owned more cattle and sheep and had more money than before.

In my case, I denied that I had communication problems until I hit a dark point in my life and realized I needed help addressing some of my behavioral and thinking patterns.
So, after seeking guidance from Heavenly Father, I felt prompted to start meeting with a therapist. We put pieces of the puzzle of my heart together and discovered that the sources of many of my behaviors like masking pain with humor, burying emotions, and struggling to communicate effectively could possibly be traced back to a few generations before mine.
At first, I was scared by what this discovery meant for me. How could I possibly change habits that had been ingrained in me and my family? I even started to fear for my future family. Would I pass my issues on to them?
With these thoughts weighing on my mind, I didn’t think I could muster the effort to face these feelings and change these behavior cycles. But the Lord has counseled us to “be not afraid, only believe” (Mark 5:36).
As I prayed, God showed me that if I had a willing heart, He could change my heart and help me alter the behaviors that were preventing me from having healthy relationships and from growing emotionally and spiritually.
Ultimately, my healing involved the Savior. With Him, I was able to have difficult yet healing conversations with my family members, to take steps forward, to love more deeply and build greater relationships, to take uncomfortable steps forward, to forgive, and to find hope in the future. Believing in what Jesus Christ could do for me was the first step toward inviting His healing balm into my life through temple worship, prayer, and exercising faith.
As I combined these powerful spiritual tools with therapy and self-help books that helped me develop my communication skills, learn to feel and process my emotions, and understand the underlying reasons behind my behaviors, I have been able to see miraculous results of involving the Savior and Heavenly Father in this journey.

I have a second story about prayer to share. This time it is of an adult who sometimes forgets to become like a little child. Yes, that adult is me. One day a few months ago I was the last person to leave the house and when I got to the door, I discovered that I did not have my keys. Now I am admittedly old and often forgetful, and I am very particular about keeping my keys in one place. But this morning, no keys. I retraced my steps through the house, while sending up what Cynthia Compton called “little sparrow prayers” in her devotional of November 18, 2008. Sparrow prayers are the quick prayers in your heart: gratitude for rainbows, a prayer for the hurt when an ambulance goes past, and asking for help in finding your keys. As I was frantically looking in the spots I’d already checked, I received the impression to look in the trash. I dismissed that impression and even told the Lord that while I knew I was old and losing it, I was positive I hadn’t thrown them in the trash. I even looked in the refrigerator, but no keys. I continued looking and sending up my sparrow prayers and the impression to look in the trash persisted. I finally heeded the prompting and looked in the trash. No, the keys were not there. What was there was an empty packet of cat treats, which reminded me that I had given the cat a treat a few minutes previously. When I returned to the place where we feed the cat, lo and behold, there were my keys. Now I know the Lord could have told me that in the first place. And I’m sure He had a wry chuckle while He waited for silly daughter to stop scrambling around before finally heeding His prompting. But, mostly I think the experience was to remind me of two lessons: 1) It was a reminder that I can’t do everything by myself; and 2) when we ask the Lord for assistance, we need to be prepared to follow His prompting without questioning it.

Over the last nine years I have observed hundreds of young men receive the Melchizedek priesthood and go on missions. I always listened carefully to the testimonies of these young men as they received the higher priesthood or left for missions. I was particularly listening to hear if they had a testimony of the living God and the atonement of Jesus Christ. I frequently heard things like, “I am thankful for my family or for my friends who are always there for me. Or, I know the church is true and that President Hinckley is a prophet.” While these things were all appropriate, to me the telling point was if they understood their relationship to God and Jesus Christ and had somehow personalized that knowledge. During this same period of time I have heard literally hundreds of young men and women report their missions. How gratifying it was to have almost 100% of them say they knew God lived and they knew that Jesus Christ had died for their sins. One young man left a lasting impression on me when summarizing his mission he simply said, “I did it for Christ”. The spirit told me that he knew why it was important to do things like serve a mission.

In November 2001 my younger sister was diagnosed with a serious form of cancer. She was 45 years old and the mother of four sons, one serving a mission in Portugal. Immediately, her ward and stake in Arizona, as well as her family, began to fast and pray in her behalf. But before the end of May, the cancer had won the battle, and she fell into a coma. After we received priesthood blessings and prayed fervently, we decided to remove her from life support. The doctors assured us that her passing would be quick. But eight days later her status had remained the same, making each day long and grievous.
The previous few months had been a time of reflection for our family. We loved my sister, and although we understood the plan of salvation, it was difficult at times to have faith in the Lord that all would be well. Somehow we felt that if we had enough faith, my sister would be cured. So we questioned the power of that faith. We knew that Heavenly Father hears and answers prayers, but we were devastated by His answer and unable to feel at peace.
Our stake conference in Utah was scheduled for June 2, with a visit from an Area Seventy. Because of the number of members in the stake, stake conference was divided into two sessions. Our three sons who were attending a singles ward in the stake were assigned to the morning session. The rest of the family was to attend the afternoon session. My husband and I decided that attending the morning session as a family would be best. Shortly after we made that decision, however, my husband and I were invited to offer the prayers for the afternoon session. So we changed our plans.
During the Saturday evening session of conference, we noted a change. Elder L. Whitney Clayton of the Seventy had been assigned to our conference at the last minute, replacing the Area Seventy.
On Sunday afternoon Elder Clayton began by saying he felt impressed to completely change his talk. The Spirit told him he needed to speak to a family present that day. I immediately sensed that he would be speaking to our family. He told of a stake president whose wife was diagnosed with cancer. After much prayer and fasting by family members, friends, and members of her stake, she had fully recovered.
Elder Clayton then talked about another stake president, one whose wife had died of cancer during his service as stake president. She left several small children in his care. Many people had also fasted and prayed for her recovery. This story was particularly touching to Elder Clayton because this woman was his wife’s only sister.
Elder Clayton went on to explain that no matter how much faith is exercised at times like these, sometimes the answer is no. Then he read what has become one of our family’s favorite scriptures, Daniel 3:17–18:
“If it be so, our God whom we serve is able to deliver us from the burning fiery furnace, and he will deliver us out of thine hand, O king.
“But if not, be it known unto thee, O king, that we will not serve thy gods, nor worship the golden image which thou hast set up” (emphasis added).
Elder Clayton did not speak of any doctrine that was new to us that afternoon. But a miracle happened that left us in awe. The Lord made sure we would be in attendance during the afternoon session by inspiring someone to ask us to pray. He also arranged for one of His servants, one who had had an experience similar to ours, to speak to us. And finally, He gave us someone wise and obedient who had lived his life in such a way that he could hear the Spirit and respond accordingly. Our spirits were touched in indescribable ways by that experience.
The next day we received the call telling us my sister had passed away. Although we were saddened, a sweet spirit of comfort was in our home as we prayed for her family—this time with full confidence that the Lord’s will had been done—and thanked Him for His precious answer to our prayers.

That was it. I received my papers; it was all on. It was around Christmas 1996 when I thought I’d better let the family know what was happening. I decided I’d tell everyone over Sunday dinner. As we were sitting at the table my sister said she had something to tell everyone: she’d been thinking of changing careers from a hairdresser to a beauty therapist, thus needing to give up her job and go to college. Everyone was happy about her decision. Then it was my turn. I told them I also had something to say. I told them that I was planning to go on a mission. A look of disbelief and surprise appeared on every face. I told them, “No one is more surprised than me.” Then between Christmas and New Years, a quiet holiday period, I managed to get all my medical and dental appointments arranged. Within three days my papers were ready. When I was 17, I’d taken out a small insurance policy that I thought would be useful, when it matured, to go towards a deposit for a house. I cashed it in early. (I lost nothing; every penny I had paid was returned to me; there was no financial penalty for early exit.) I was sent a cheque that paid for my whole mission. Isn’t it funny how things work out? Another small unplanned blessing. I then posted my papers.
Over the next few months, I started shopping for my mission attire. Coming from Scotland, I’m no stranger to cold weather so I was going to be well prepared. But every time I went to buy something like a winter coat, big woolly jumpers, hat, scarves, or gloves, I’d get the answer, “No!” I’d leave it a couple of days then go elsewhere. Again, the answer would be “No! Don’t buy that.” I couldn’t believe I was being prompted to buy certain clothes.
The promptings were very specific. I’d pick up clothes and I’d hold the hanger and wait for a yes or a no. I obediently bought according to those promptings. When I look back, I can’t believe how much the Holy Ghost kept prompting me and specifically telling me things each day—I was not asking for such clarity. I’ve never experienced this level of prompting ever since. That was how it was supposed to be—minute detail.
One morning I went downstairs and there on the carpet was the big fat white envelope. My heart leapt. I quickly grabbed it and immediately locked myself in the bathroom. I have a big family, and someone could have been lurking; I wanted to open it on my own.
I stared at the envelope, scared to open it. I kept thinking that it held the next 18 months of my life, my future. I was very anxious. I eventually opened it and scoured through the first few lines. I just wanted to know where I was going—it was the Greece Athens Mission. I’d never heard of this mission. I’d never heard of anyone even going to this mission. I would later find out that I was the first Scottish sister to go there. How cool! I would learn to speak Greek. l would serve my mission during one of the hottest summers they’d had, and another summer the following year. Greece was indeed a different, unusual place. The gospel was still in its infancy there; it had only been dedicated 25 years previously by Elder Gordon B. Hinckley (1910-2008).
I served my mission from May 1997 to November 1998. It was one of the best experiences of my life! I can’t believe that I hadn’t wanted to go. I could quite easily have missed out on this crucial experience. It was meant to be. I would never have chosen that path but it’s what Heavenly Father knew was right for me. Greece will always be a special place with special memories for me. Whenever I go back to visit, I get ‘goose bumps’ and butterflies in my stomach. When I left my mission, I left a part of my heart there, and there it will stay. It brought me so much happiness. It shaped my future. It put me on the right path, in the right direction. It was priceless. I loved it. I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat. It changed me for the better. My favourite word is fantastic, and Greece was fantastic!

A woman whose marriage was threatened by her husband’s addiction to pornography wrote how she stood beside him for five pain-filled years until, as she said, “through the gift of our precious Savior’s glorious Atonement and what He taught me about forgiveness, [my husband] finally is free—and so am I.” As one who needed no cleansing from sin, but only sought a loved one’s deliverance from captivity, she wrote this advice:
“Commune with the Lord. … He is your best friend! He knows your pain because He has felt it for you already. He is ready to carry that burden. Trust Him enough to place it at His feet and allow Him to carry it for you. Then you can have your anguish replaced with His peace, in the very depths of your soul” (letter dated Apr. 18, 2005).

While serving in the Asia North Area Presidency with Elder Takashi Wada, I learned that his wife, Sister Naomi Wada, is an accomplished Japanese calligrapher. I asked Sister Wada if she would draw for me the Japanese characters for the word mui. I wanted to hang the calligraphy on my wall as a reminder to be still and to focus on the Savior. I was surprised when she did not readily agree to this seemingly simple request.

The next day, knowing that I had likely misunderstood her hesitance, Elder Wada explained that writing those characters would require a significant effort. She would need to ponder and meditate on the concept and the characters until she understood the meaning deeply in her soul and could give expression to these heartfelt impressions with each stroke of her brush. I was embarrassed that I had so casually asked her to do something so demanding. I asked him to convey my apologies to her for my ignorance and to let her know that I was withdrawing my request.

You can imagine my surprise and gratitude when upon my leaving Japan, Sister Wada, unsolicited, gifted to me this beautiful piece of calligraphy featuring the Japanese characters for the word mui. It now hangs prominently on the wall of my office, reminding me to be still and to seek the Lord every day with all my heart, might, mind, and strength. She had captured, in this selfless act, the meaning of mui, or stillness, better than any words could. Rather than mindlessly and dutifully drawing the characters, she approached her calligraphy with full purpose of heart and real intent.

Janet lay in a hollow on the sand dune and watched the surfers swimming off the beach below her. There were only a dozen or so swimmers this afternoon. The gusty Australian westerlies whipped the stinging sand around bare legs and into eyes. Most people waited to go swimming until evening when the wind died down. Tonight the beach would be crowded with people trying to cool off from the hot day.
Janet snapped a ti-tree twig from a bush close by and swiped at the small bush flies clustering around her legs. It isn’t fair, she thought. Other people are able to go to New Zealand. I wish we could.
Her father was the branch president, but his family didn’t have enough money to go to the New Zealand Temple with those who were going there next month to be sealed as families.
“When baby Richard was born, we used the money we had saved for the trip to pay the doctor and hospital,” her mother had explained. “So we won’t be able to go with the group this year.”
Janet slammed the screen door and rushed out to the sand dunes, her favorite place to think.
There is just no place we could get the money for the trip, she decided. She knew Grandfather Turner had money, but he wouldn’t help. He had never forgiven Mother for joining the Church and marrying Daddy.
Janet loved her grandfather, even though she seldom saw him. Maybe I should visit him, she thought, as she wiped her eyes. Maybe he is just a lonely person. Thinking about him now, Janet decided she would like to see him.
After school the next day, she walked slowly up the hill toward Grandfather Turner’s house. She was anxious to see him but she was also a little nervous.
A few minutes later, she stood on the wide veranda knocking on the front door of the big house. No one came. But Bluey, Grandfather’s cattle dog, barked furiously. Janet looked around the side of the house and saw the dog tied up in the shade of the peppercorn tree. Perhaps Grandfather was in the back yard.
Janet walked around the side of the house. “What’s up, Bluey?” she asked. “Don’t you remember me? I haven’t seen you for a long time. Where’s Grandfather?”
Just then Janet noticed that the dog was panting by his empty water bowl. “You’re thirsty, Bluey! Grandfather must be ill, for he’d never forget to give you water on a hot day like this.” She ran back to the house.
“Help!” A voice sounded very faint. From far away it came again, “Help!”
Across the yard, through the vegetable garden, and under the jacaranda tree Janet raced. And there, sprawled in the doorway of the chicken house, lay Grandfather.
“I tripped over the jacaranda root,” Grandfather moaned. “I meant to chop it out long ago. I think I broke my hip, and I’ve been lying here since early this morning when I came to feed the chickens. I thought help would never come.”
“Oh, Grandfather, I’m so sorry,” Janet comforted, “but I’ll go for help.” She ran into the house, found the telephone, and dialed the district hospital. Speaking quickly but carefully, Janet told them to send an ambulance to Mr. Turner’s house on the top of the hill on Murray Road.
A few days later when Grandfather was feeling much better, a small family gathered around his hospital bed. Grandfather held Janet’s hand. “I never was so glad to see anyone as I was to see you, young lady. But how did you happen to come just when I needed you?”
“I was lonesome to see you and thought I’d ask you to be friends with us,” Janet replied.
“For a long time I’ve been sorry that I’ve been so stubborn,” Grandfather admitted. “But I was too proud to say so. What happened the other day showed me that I need my family.
“A church shouldn’t divide a family,” Grandfather continued, “so when I’m all better I’ll visit your church with you.”
“That would be great,” Janet said as she squeezed Grandfather’s hand.
“Our church unites families,” Daddy explained. “We’d like to tell you all about it. We had hoped to go to the New Zealand Temple next month, where we could be sealed to each other as a family, but we aren’t able to do so. Maybe if we wait another year, we’ll have another important member of our family going with us.” Daddy smiled at them. “That will certainly be worth waiting for!”
And Janet felt a warm glow of promise.

Luis bounced up and down in the back seat and sang a silly song. “Please settle down, Luis,” Dad said. “I need to focus on driving.”
“I can’t settle down,” Luis said. “It’s just so awesome!”
Dad smiled. “I’m glad you’re excited to meet your new baby brother.”
When they got to the hospital, Luis raced to Mom’s room. He knew where it was because Mom had been there for five days already. She had to stay at the hospital because Baby Ian was sick, and Mom was a little bit sick too. Luis had asked to see Ian at least a bajillion times, but Mom always said, “Not yet.” She said that the doctors would decide when Ian was strong enough for a visitor.
Today the doctor had called. Today was the day!
When Luis walked into Mom’s hospital room, she was already holding Ian. Luis ran over to see his new baby brother. Ian was tiny. He looked way smaller than Luis’s baby cousins. And there was something different about his nose and ears. He looked like a little elf!
“Hi, honey,” Mom said. “Come wash your hands, and then you can hold the baby.”
Luis washed his hands with special soap. He climbed onto the hospital bed next to Mom. She leaned over to hand him the baby. Dad helped Luis put his hands in just the right place.
Luis looked down at Ian. “Hi, Ian,” he said. “I’m your brother, Luis. You’re going to sleep in my room, and I can show you all my toys, and we can play at the park.”
Baby Ian looked right at Luis. Luis thought he was the best baby ever.
When Luis’s arms got tired, Dad took a turn holding Ian. Mom held one of Luis’s hands and looked into his eyes.
“Luis,” she said. “Do you remember in Primary when you learned about the plan of salvation?”
Luis nodded. That had been a good day. Sister Lopez had a moon and a star and a big planet earth on sticks. Luis got to hold the sun.
“Do you remember how we lived in heaven before we came to earth and how we are going back to heaven when we die?”
Luis nodded again.
“Baby Ian is still very sick. And the doctor says that he won’t live very long. He is going to die soon and go back to heaven.”
Luis looked at Mom. He looked at Baby Ian in Dad’s arms. Then he frowned. His throat felt tight. “But I love him. I want him to stay here and share my room and play with me. Doesn’t he want to stay too?”
Mom put her arms around Luis. “Of course he wants to be with us. We’re his family. But he will see us again.”
“He will?”
Mom nodded. “Dad and I were married in the temple. We were promised that our family could be together forever. You and Ian will always be our children.”
“That means that Baby Ian will always be your brother,” Dad explained. “And you’ll see him again in heaven.”
Luis was sad. He felt kind of mad too. But he thought about meeting Baby Ian in heaven and smiled just a little. He reached out and rubbed Baby Ian’s soft hair. “We’ll be brothers in heaven? That’s awesome.”
Mom kissed Luis’s cheek. “It is awesome.”

It was a Thursday like any other. My husband, Jean-Pierre, had gone to work, the older children were at school, and the younger children and I were at home in Val d’Or, Quebec. It was a routine day, and I began my usual tasks of gathering laundry, cleaning rooms, and preparing meals.
By 2:30 that afternoon, I needed a break. Sitting down to rest for a few minutes, I picked up my scriptures. I had been reading the Book of Mormon, but for some reason, I opened the Pearl of Great Price instead and began reading the account of the Creation from the book of Moses.
As I read, something inexplicable happened. I couldn’t stop reading. I felt that I was understanding at a deeper level than I ever had before—understanding not just through the words, but through spiritual impressions. I couldn’t put the book down and completely forgot about the time. By the time my family returned home, I had neither finished the housework nor made dinner.
I didn’t know why I had had this marvelous experience until several days later when I saw Noël and Huguette Demers at church. They had just returned from a three-week vacation, during which they had gone to the Washington Temple, more than 1,600 kilometers from our home. Some weeks before they left, I had asked Brother and Sister Demers to do the temple work for some of my ancestors whose names I had sent to the temple. I hadn’t been endowed yet, so I couldn’t do the temple work myself. Noël and Huguette hadn’t known when they would be going to the temple, but they had promised they would do the temple work for my ancestors if possible. In the meantime, I had forgotten about my request.
That Sunday when I spoke with Noël and Huguette and learned that they had completed the temple work for my ancestors, I immediately wanted to know the exact day they had been in the temple. They had done the work the week before, they said, on a Thursday. Then I understood. That ordinary Thursday, when I was having the most extraordinary spiritual experience of my life, turned out to be the very day they were doing the temple work for my ancestors.
Ten years later, when I went to the temple for my own endowment, I understood and appreciated even more the gift my Heavenly Father gave me by allowing me to share in the spirit of the temple on that ordinary Thursday afternoon.

Surrounded by a crowd of young women, Ariel Liston walked into her bedroom with her eyes closed. Slowly, as she opened her eyes, she lifted her hands to her face and began to cry.
“You guys did this for me? It’s so awesome. Wow! It’s so pretty!”
Ariel, a Mia Maid in the Orchard First Ward, Bountiful Utah Orchard Stake, couldn’t contain her happiness when she saw her “new” room. She loved the bright paint, the curtains, the dresser with her name lovingly stenciled on it, but most of all she was crying because she realized how much the other young women in the ward loved her.
Ariel’s room had needed some work. There were holes in the walls, the carpet was ragged, and she didn’t have a closet to hang her clothes in. Angela Gatherum, a Laurel in the ward, had similar needs in her own bedroom.
Knowing that these two girls needed help, the young women in their ward got together to remodel Ariel’s and Angela’s rooms. On a small budget, they transformed the girls’ bedrooms into beautiful living spaces. They painted, organized, made accessories and art pieces, refinished old furniture rescued from Deseret Industries and ward members, and even tore up flooring (all with parental permission, of course).
Their activity took all day, but their hard work and creativity paid off. When the young women were done, they led the girls into their rooms with their eyes closed.
“It was amazing to see the look on Ariel’s face when she opened her eyes,” says Angela, who helped remodel Ariel’s room. “I loved to see all the girls come together for the sake of serving.”
Elaine Petersen, a Mia Maid, agrees: “Seeing Ariel’s face was priceless. It made me want to do her whole house!”
The girls did a lot of work and were tired and dirty when they were done, but it was worth it. “It didn’t seem like it was work, it was so much fun!” says Katie Mortensen, a Mia Maid.
Melissa Anderson, a Beehive says, “I felt like I had made a difference.”
Not only did the girls learn some valuable decorating and cleaning skills, they also learned about how powerful they can be when they work together for a righteous cause. “This project took all of us to complete it,” says Heidi Anderson, a Laurel. “It wouldn’t have worked as well if we wouldn’t have had everyone there.”
Ariel and Angela got in on the fun, too, as they helped remodel each other’s rooms. They weren’t allowed to go into their own rooms until the other young women were finished. They were so grateful for the help they received in making their rooms more pleasant places to be. “Your surroundings have such a huge effect on the way you feel and act,” says Angela.
She thinks what the young women did for her is amazing. “My room is something I see every day, and so every day I am reminded of all the love and work that went into it on my behalf. It really makes me feel loved.”
Above Ariel’s bed the young women hung a hand-painted sign. It reads, “To every thing there is a season” (Eccl. 3:1). For the young women of the Orchard First Ward, their activity wasn’t just a season to paint, fix, and decorate; it was a season to love, serve, and give.

Lori Ransom, a 16-year-old Idaho girl, recently won first place nationally in the American Legion Auxiliary Americanism contest.
Lori’s essay placed first in the senior division in Pocatello, went on to win in the state, and was then entered in the national competition. She was flown to Seattle, Washington, on August 22, 1976, to attend the Legion’s national convention where she read her essay to 2,000 women representing every state. Her essay was geared to the question “Is Americanism in danger of extinction? How may I preserve my heritage?”
Winning essay contests is not a new experience for Lori. She was first in the local Americanism contest in both the fifth and seventh grades. Lori has also won two state awards in French competition.
Lori is secretary of her Laurel class, organist for the junior Primary, and is a third-year seminary student. She does a lot of artwork for her ward and for Highland High School (Pocatello, Idaho).

During the spring, my husband and I attended our four-year-old grandson’s soccer game. Excitement was in the air as children ran in every direction chasing the ball. When the final whistle blew, the players didn’t know who won or who lost. They had simply played the game.
The coaches asked the players to shake hands with the other team. Then we saw something quite remarkable. One coach called for a victory tunnel.
Parents, grandparents, and anybody who came to see the game stood up and formed two lines facing each other. Then they raised their arms and created an arch. The children squealed as they ran under the arms of the cheering adults and down the path.
Soon the children from the other team decided to join in the fun. All of the players were cheered on by the adults as they ran through the victory tunnel.
In my mind I could see another picture. I had the feeling I was seeing these children living the plan Heavenly Father created for every child. They were running on the strait and narrow path, under the arms of the people who loved them. Each child felt the joy of being on the path.
Jesus Christ has “marked the path and led the way” for each of us.* If we follow His lead, we will all return to our heavenly home and be safe in Heavenly Father’s arms.

The Young Women of the Price Ninth Ward, Price Utah Stake, prepared and hosted a valentine dance for the adults of their ward. They decorated the cultural hall and set tables with fine china borrowed from their mothers. Each couple was greeted at the door and escorted to a table. The dinner was prepared and served by the Young Women.
Following the dinner a short program and dance were held. The girls worked hard and were rewarded by many thank-yous from the ward members.

Six weeks ago I received a letter from a very successful member missionary family, the Munns family of Florida. They wrote:
“Dear Elder Ballard, 30 minutes after the worldwide broadcast on hastening the work of salvation, we held our family missionary council. We were thrilled to find that our teenage grandchildren wanted to be included. We’re happy to report that since our council meeting, we have expanded our family teaching pool by 200 percent.
“We have had grandchildren bring friends to church, have enjoyed sacrament meetings with some of our less-active friends, and have had some of our new contacts commit to take the missionary discussions. One of our less-active sisters has not only returned to church but has brought new investigators with her.
“No one has turned down the invitation to take the missionary discussions. What an exciting time to be a member of this Church” (personal letter, Aug. 15, 2013).

Beautifully exemplifying the theme of our conferences was a talk given by Elder Boyd K. Packer on “the voice of warning.” He began by quoting from the first section of the Doctrine and Covenants, wherein the Lord said:
“The voice of warning shall be unto all people, by the mouths of my disciples, whom I have chosen in these last days.
“And they shall go forth and none shall stay them, for I the Lord have commanded them.” (D&C 1:4–5.)
He then referred to the recent collapse of the Teton Dam in Idaho, and graphically described what happened on that occasion as houses, churches, and whole towns vanished. In all, 790 homes were destroyed, and 800 others were severely damaged, as were schools, churches, business houses, etc. About 7,800 people were in the immediate path of the flood, and farther down the valley another 25,000 or 30,000 were in danger. I quote:
“But what happened to the people that Saturday morning? There was a miracle! There were several deaths, but only six of them by drowning. How could such terrible destruction take place with such a little loss of life?
“The answer: they were warned. A number of them had been subjected to a restless, anxious feeling that morning, and so responded instantly when the warning came. They heeded the warning. Latter-day Saints pay attention to warnings. They have read the revelation which states:
“‘For this is a day of warning, and not a day of many words. For I, the Lord, am not to be mocked in the last days.’” (D&C 63:58.)
Elder Packer stated that by scientific calculations 5,300 lives might have been lost, but there were so few. And it was not a case of going upstairs onto the roof. The houses were completely washed away, and most of the people had miles to go to reach high ground. They were saved because they heeded a warning and then warned their neighbors.
He quoted again from the revelations: “And let those whom they have warned in their traveling call on the Lord, and ponder the warning in their hearts which they have received. … Behold, I sent you out to testify and warn the people, and it becometh every man who hath been warned to warn his neighbor.” (D&C 88:71, 81.)
Then he said: “That is how they were saved. Everyone, when warned, raised the voice of warning to his family and to his neighbors. … Do you think they were casual about it? That is not the way it happened. The warnings were shouted and screamed. Horns were honked. Every means was used to sound the warning. ‘Come out of the valley. A flood is coming!’
“Of the six drowned, one stood just below the dam and had no chance. The others either failed to heed the warning or went back to get something. Every man who was warned, warned his neighbor. There are chapter after chapter of miracles. The whole episode stands as a mighty miracle. And the whole disaster looms itself as a warning.”