Gospel Story Finder

After my 16th birthday, I decided it was time to get a job. The search began and ended with a neighborhood pharmacy and candy store where my brother and I had spent most of our allowances as children. The store owner was a grandfatherly man with a quiet disposition. To my surprise, he gave me an interview and offered me the job a few days later. I decided then I would try to learn as much as possible from the experience. Little did I know the lessons I would learn would be about more than medicines and business.
After working at the pharmacy for about nine months, I realized I had learned much from the great example of the store owner. Many people came to the pharmacy lacking money to pay for the medicine they needed, and he would quietly assure them a payment or two could wait. He knew most of the customers by name and would constantly listen to stories about their latest trip to the hospital or look at pictures of their grandchildren. If an employee needed time off for vacations, illness, or, in my case, a school dance, he did all he could to let us off work, even if he had to work extra hours himself.
One night, very close to Christmas, I had been counting money from the day’s sales when a rush of customers came in. I put the counted money in one of the store sacks under the counter, planning on retrieving it when things slowed down. For the next half hour, I rushed around dealing with frazzled holiday shoppers and constantly ringing the cash register.
Finally, my boss closed the door behind the last customer and turned off the main lights. With a sigh of relief, I took off my apron and reached to get the money. It was gone. I muttered a quick, very shaky prayer and looked again. Still no money. My mind began to race. Had I left it at the back register? Frantically, but trying to look calm and unconcerned, I checked all over the store. It was no use. The money for nearly the entire day—checks, charges, and cash—was gone.
With great fear, I went to my boss and told him the situation. Without a word, he began to search. Tears came to my eyes with a feeling of hopelessness. Nearly a thousand dollars was missing. After a terrible hour of searching, my boss told me to go home.
That night, I sleeplessly tossed and turned as my mind attempted to solve the mystery of the missing money. As the money stayed lost, I knew I would not only lose my job but would have to find a way to pay back the lost money. I knelt down and prayed that the money would be found and that my boss would have an understanding heart.
At 7:00 A.M. the next morning a phone call came. “The money has been found,” my boss said.
With a sigh of relief, I asked, “Where was it?” not sure I wanted an answer.
“It looks like you put it in a sack and then gave the sack to one of our customers, a man who didn’t open it until this morning.” Never in my life have I felt quite so stupid. Our conversation continued, and I very awkwardly attempted to apologize for such a mindless mistake. As I was about to ask when I could pick up my last paycheck, my boss said, “I’ll see you on Saturday.”
I arrived five minutes early to work that Saturday, a little nervous and ready for humiliation. However, my boss, whom I expected to meet me at the door with a “you’re fired!” statement, wasn’t even there. None of the other workers said a thing about the money incident. Apparently, they didn’t know about it.
An hour before closing, he finally came in. The moment I had been dreading had finally arrived, and I clenched my teeth for the blow. Before giving him a chance to speak, I blurted out, “Sir, you can fire me if you want to. I definitely deserve it.” He just stared at me for a moment, then said, “Why would I do that? Maybe be just a little more careful with the money, hey?”
Tears came to my eyes in gratitude to the honest customer who returned that large sum of money and also to my kind boss who followed the example given in the Book of Mormon: "I did frankly forgive them all that they had done" (1 Ne. 7:21). I attempted to thank my boss, but he walked away and never mentioned my mistake again.
When I left the pharmacy for another job, I realized I had learned many valuable lessons about business and medicines. But the most important, lasting lesson learned in the two years I worked there was from the examples of those two Christlike men the night I gave the money away.

In the spirit of the thought in that verse, I determined a few years ago that I would no longer put off a visit with a dear friend whom I hadn’t seen for many years. I had been meaning to visit him in California but just had not gotten around to it.
Bob Biggers and I met when we were both in the Classification Division at the United States Naval Training Center in San Diego, California, toward the close of World War II. We were good friends from the beginning. He visited Salt Lake once before he married, and we remained friends through correspondence from the time I was discharged in 1946. My wife, Frances, and I exchanged Christmas cards every year with Bob and his wife, Grace.
Finally, at the beginning of January 2002, I was scheduled to visit a stake conference in Whittier, California, where the Biggers live. I telephoned my friend Bob, now 80 years old, and arranged for Frances and me to meet him and Grace, that we might reminisce concerning former days.
We had a delightful visit. I took with me a number of photographs which had been taken when we were in the navy together over 55 years earlier. We identified the men we knew and provided each other an update on their whereabouts as best we could. Although not a member of our Church, Bob remembered going to a sacrament meeting with me those long years before when we were stationed in San Diego.
As Frances and I said our good-byes to Bob and Grace, I felt an overwhelming sense of peace and joy at having finally made the effort to see once again a friend who had been cherished from afar throughout the years.

Jenny was excited to visit her friend Anne, who had moved to New York, but she was also afraid. What if she missed her airplane? What if Anne wasn’t there to meet her?
Dad helped Jenny find the right place at the airport and hugged her good-bye. “Have a good time,” he said. Jenny felt nervous, but she remembered that in family prayer Mom had prayed for her safety.
On the flight, Jenny read a book and drank juice. After landing, she found Anne’s family waiting with big smiles on their faces. “Welcome to New York!” Anne cried.
During the week they played, hiked, picnicked, and shopped. They even saw the Palmyra Temple and the Sacred Grove. When it was time to fly home, Jenny felt brave. She found her seat—right next to the window!—and put on her seatbelt.
Just as the plane began speeding up, it slowed again. The engines quieted, then stopped. “Is something wrong?” Jenny worried to herself.
“We can’t take off yet because of thunderstorms,” the pilot announced.
Three hours later, the airplane was still sitting on the runway. “I should have been home by now,” Jenny moaned. The grouchy man next to her muttered some bad words, and she felt even worse.
At last, the plane took off. Everyone cheered, except the grouchy man, who scowled. Jenny watched the city lights disappear beneath the clouds, then fell asleep.
A sudden flash awoke her. She blinked out into the darkness. There it was again!—sizzling, crackling lightning. Her stomach turned cold. She had never seen lightning so near. Her hair stood on end, charged with static electricity. She wanted to ask someone what would happen if lightning struck the airplane, but everyone else was asleep. Even the flight attendants were out of sight.
Bam! Another blinding ray of light exploded outside.
“Heavenly Father,” Jenny silently prayed, “I’m scared. Please help me to feel better and get home safely.”
As thunder rumbled and the airplane shook, Jenny remembered her vacation. She had flown to New York without any trouble. She had played, hiked, and ridden in a car. She hadn’t scraped her knees, caught a cold, or gotten lost. She hadn’t even forgotten her toothbrush. Nothing had gone wrong. Suddenly she realized that all of those things were blessings from Heavenly Father.
“If He protected me on the ground,” she thought, “why can’t He protect me in the air?” Peace entered her heart. She knew that no matter where she went, as long as she was faithful, she would be in God’s hands.
She settled back into her chair and fell asleep. When she awoke, the lights of her hometown twinkled up at her. “Prepare for landing,” the pilot said. Jenny offered a prayer of thanks, grateful to be safely home again.

“Once, we cashed in our frequent-flyer miles,” Elder Gong says. “We let each person choose a destination. We started in Washington, D.C., where we were living, then went to England, the Czech Republic, Greece, Turkey, India, China, and Japan.”

“We had one firm rule during that trip,” Susan says. “Wherever we went, we ate what local people ate.” Finally, in Japan at the end of the trip, Elder Gong told his sons he was taking them to a restaurant world-famous for beef. At McDonald’s, four hungry sons and two parents consumed 17 hamburgers!

When Ana Victoria Hernández, who was not a member of the Church, married Belbin Calderón, he was a member but wasn’t attending because he worked on Sundays. Belbin says a strong feeling brought him back. He recalls, “I gave up my job because I wanted to go back to church.” After he became active again, his wife noticed that he was becoming more humble, and there was more unity in their home.
Belbin hoped his wife might gain an interest in the gospel, but he never tried to push her. One Sunday while dusting the bookcase, Ana Victoria discovered one of Belbin’s books about the history of the Church. Curious, she began to read. The stories of the sacrifices of the pioneers touched her deeply.
A few weeks later, the October 2011 Liahona came, a special issue about the Book of Mormon. Again out of curiosity, Ana Victoria began to read the Book of Mormon. She soon realized it contained not just a history but also the words of prophets. She began to attend sacrament meeting with her husband and children.
Then she and her family visited the Quetzaltenango Temple open house. Ana Victoria was touched when she learned that her family could be sealed for eternity. “That had a great impact on me. I felt the need to be sealed to them,” she recalls. She began taking the missionary lessons and was baptized on December 7, 2011. She attended the temple dedication four days later.
Brother and Sister Calderón were sealed in the temple with their children in December 2012. Ana Victoria says she cannot describe her happiness at “knowing I can be with my family forever.” Belbin calls the certainty of their sealing “the greatest blessing I could possibly imagine.”

“I thought that when I got baptized six years ago, my parents would become interested in the gospel and agree to be baptized, but that didn’t happen. One day I read the scripture, ‘He that loveth father or mother more than me is not worthy of me: and he that loveth son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me’ (Matthew 10:37). I adored my parents, so I wondered how I could love the Lord more than them.
“My parents weren’t against me joining the Church, but sometimes they would feel bad when I would spend more time reading the scriptures or going to church instead of doing things with them on the Sabbath. And explaining why I didn’t do certain things on Sundays anymore was hard.
“We had a bit of friction, but the more I read the scriptures and the more I got to know the Savior and my Heavenly Father, the more my love for my family grew. And I knew that if I followed Jesus Christ, my family would be blessed. I decided to put Him above all other things. Needless to say, things between my family and me continue to get better. I know that if I am obedient to the Lord, He will continue to bless my family and me.”
—Magaly Perez, Coahuila, Mexico

I’d like to tell you of a man that I knew well when I was in the government. He was head of one of the largest drilling companies in Canada. He began social drinking and continued until his friends were telling him he was an alcoholic and encouraging him to leave it alone. I was talking to him one day (I knew him well) after he had greater control of himself. He said, “I wouldn’t believe that I was an alcoholic until I found myself in the gutter. And then I went to Alcoholics Anonymous.”
I said, “Would you come and talk to my M-Men and Gleaner group?”
He said, “I’ll be glad to tell anybody if I can help them.”
As he talked to them, he told them how he had become an alcoholic, and then he said, “No man, no matter how well-to-do he is, can afford to take the first drink of alcohol.” He was fortunate in that Alcoholics Anonymous made it possible for him to cure himself.

Julia wiped her brow. Then she picked up her shovel and started digging. Right now, the ground around her was a patch of dirt. But soon it would become a beautiful garden.
Times were hard for Black people in South Africa. Laws there kept Blacks and Whites separate. Many Black people had been forced to leave their homes and live in certain areas away from White people, and they couldn’t vote. There had been violence in the township where Julia lived, and the schools were closed because of it. Sometimes it was dangerous to be outside.
But that didn’t stop Julia. She wanted to do something to bring goodness to her community. That’s why she was starting a garden.
Some children saw Julia working. “Can we help?” they asked.
“Of course,” said Julia. She handed them each a shovel. She showed them how to loosen the soil and dig up weeds.
“Let us dig the soil of bitterness, throw in a seed of love, and see what fruits it can give us,” she said. “Love comes only by forgiving others.”
Weeks passed, and more plants grew. Other people came to work in the garden. They pulled tall weeds. They planted more seeds. They watered the plants. It made Julia happy to see so many people helping.
One day Julia met two young men. Julia was surprised because White people rarely came to her neighborhood. They said they were missionaries. She invited them to share a message in her home.
When Julia’s son heard they were coming, he was shocked. “Why did you invite them?” he said. “They are White. It’s not safe.”
But Julia trusted the missionaries. “These men are different,” Julia said. “They are preaching peace.”
When the missionaries came, Julia welcomed them in. One of them noticed a photo on the mantle. It was from Julia’s wedding.
“Who is that?” the missionary asked, pointing to the photo.
“My husband, John.” Julia looked down. “He died in a car crash.”
The missionary nodded. “We believe families can be together forever, even after they die.”
A feeling of peace washed over Julia. She felt happy to learn about God’s plan and kept meeting with the missionaries. Love for the gospel grew in Julia’s heart, just like the plants in her garden. Soon she decided to be baptized.
At church, Julia met lots of new people. Some were Black. Some were White. But they all served and learned together.
Julia showed the children at church how to help in her garden. “We must be soft in our hearts, like this soil,” she said. “We must make a place for the gospel within us. We must make a place for love.”
Thirteen years after Julia’s baptism, the laws separating Black people and White people in South Africa ended.
There are almost 70,000 members of the Church in South Africa today.
South Africa has 11 official languages.
Julia helped start Women for Peace, a group to promote unity and peace in South Africa.
She was one of the first temple workers in the Johannesburg South Africa Temple.
Julia was a teacher. She taught children to read when they worked in her garden.

I played football for thirteen years and was a projected number-one draft pick into the National Football League until one day in practice that dream ended. Lyle and I lined up fifteen yards apart in a tackling drill, and on the coach’s whistle, we ran into each other full speed. In a violent head-on collision, our helmets crashed, my shoulder was smashed into my sharp fiberglass pad, and we slammed to the ground. When Lyle got off of me, my arm dangled at my side and a sharp, burning, piercing pain penetrated the entire right side of my body.

I had compressed my neck, severed the axillary nerve in my right deltoid, and suffered a grade-two concussion, which meant that as I lay in bed that night, I heavily perspired, profusely shook, threw up several times, and cried myself to sleep.

Most thought it was only a shoulder injury, but I was paralyzed physically and emotionally for fourteen months. I visited sixteen of the best doctors in North America, who all told me that I would not get any better.

Have you ever heard this? What if you believed it? You would never get any better.

Sure, it was a physical injury, but it affected my whole life. I couldn’t write anymore; I was right-handed. I couldn’t concentrate on school or work because it felt like someone was biting my shoulder and burning my body 24/7. My arm would get crazy contractions that felt like somebody had plugged it into an electric socket. Once I went home to a family gathering, and as I was sitting at the dinner table, my arm suddenly twitched and knocked a bowl of mayonnaise off the table about twenty feet. At the next meal my younger brother showed up wearing a batting helmet and goggles!

Before long my life was in a downward spiral that hit rock bottom, and I didn’t think I could get up and go again. Can any of you relate? Have any of you ever felt lonely in a loved one’s arms or alone in a crowded room? I have. Have any of you ever had your heart broken by someone you loved or had your dreams shattered by a career-ending athletic injury or lost your starting position on your team or not gotten accepted to the grad school of your choice or blown off a semester so badly that you could lose your scholarship? I have.

And to make it worse, I had people come up to me and say, “I know what you are going through.” No, they didn’t!

Psychologists tell us that the average person talks between 100 and 200 words per minute, and yet we think between 200 and 400 words per minute, which means no one ever knows everything that we think or feel or all that we want to say. The author Henry David Thoreau was right when he wrote, “The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation” (Walden [1854], I, “Economy”).

So again, the question remains: What are you going to do about it?

You can’t quit—it is a league rule! Yet no one knows your pain and sorrow. So where do you go? To whom do you turn?

If you remember nothing else I say today, always remember that you are never all alone at any time or for any reason because our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ is always there and always understands everything you are going through and will help you help yourself through it. In my darkest moments I knew “I [could] do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me” (Philippians 4:13).

I received several priesthood blessings over the course of my ordeal, and, yes, the Lord blessed me with strength to carry on. However, although He could have completely and instantaneously healed me, He did not.

I felt like the brother of Jared when God told him to build a boat but didn’t tell him how to light the journey. The brother of Jared had to find the solution on his own, which incidentally included him asking the Lord to touch the stones to illuminate the way.

In my case, what God did give me was an inspirational understanding of the giant difference between being depressed and being discouraged—the wisdom that there is a huge difference between being depressed and being disappointed—which meant getting better would also be a joint venture between me and heaven in which I would pray and plead to Almighty God as though everything depended on Him and work as though everything depended on me.

The bottom line: I stayed paralyzed for fourteen months because I was asking the wrong questions. I was blaming God, asking Him, “How could You let this happen to me?” And I was asking the doctors, “How can I get better?” When I should have been asking God, “Why did this happen and what am I supposed to learn from this?” and asking myself, “Why should I get better?”

You see, once we answer why, figuring out the “how to” is simple.

Part of my answer was realizing that football was just what I did, not who I was as a man. When you identify yourself in terms of what you do instead of who you are, you become a human doing instead of a human being—unacceptable if significance is what you seek.

Now that I have fully recovered, I must confess that my accident is clearly one of the best things that ever happened to me. Because adversity introduces us to ourselves, I am the man I am and have the perspective I have because of this heartbreaking, dream-shattering ordeal. And through it all I learned that if you do today what others won’t, you can accomplish tomorrow what others can’t. It is guaranteed that with God’s help you can always turn your setbacks into comebacks and your stumbling blocks into stepping-stones.

When I was attending Brigham Young University, I learned what it truly means to be a queen. I was given a unique opportunity, along with a small group of other students, to meet the prophet, President David O. McKay. I was told to wear my best dress and to be ready to travel early the next morning to Huntsville, Utah, to the home of the prophet. I will never forget the experience I had. As soon as we entered the home, I felt the spirit which filled that home. We were seated in the prophet’s living room, surrounding him. President McKay had on a white suit, and seated next to him was his wife. He asked for each of us to come forward and tell him about ourselves. As I went forward, he held out his hand and held mine, and as I told him about my life and my family, he looked deeply into my eyes.

After we had finished, he leaned back in his chair and reached for his wife’s hand and said, “Now, young women, I would like you to meet my queen.” There seated next to him was his wife, Emma Ray McKay. Although she did not wear a crown of sparkling diamonds, nor was she seated on a throne, I knew she was a true queen. Her white hair was her crown, and her pure eyes sparkled like jewels. As President and Sister McKay spoke of their family and their life together, their intertwined hands spoke volumes about their love. Joy radiated from their faces. Hers was a beauty that cannot be purchased. It came from years of seeking the best gifts, becoming well educated, seeking knowledge by study and also by faith. It came from years of hard work, of faithfully enduring trials with optimism, trust, strength, and courage. It came from her unwavering devotion and fidelity to her husband, her family, and the Lord.

On that fall day in Huntsville, Utah, I was reminded of my divine identity, and I learned about what I now call “deep beauty”—the kind of beauty that shines from the inside out. It is the kind of beauty that cannot be painted on, surgically created, or purchased. It is the kind of beauty that doesn’t wash off. It is spiritual attractiveness. Deep beauty springs from virtue. It is the beauty of being chaste and morally clean. It is the kind of beauty that you see in the eyes of virtuous women like your mother and grandmother. It is a beauty that is earned through faith, repentance, and honoring covenants.

Alexander had curly red hair and 122 little round brown freckles all over his face.
Sometimes Alexander did things that he knew he wasn’t supposed to do.
One day Alexander caught a frog and hid it in the kitchen. The frog got out of its hiding place and leaped into the pudding Alexander’s mother was making for dinner.
“Alexander! What on earth am I going to do with you!” his mother cried.
“It’s not my fault,” Alexander told her. “You see, there’s a naughty little fox inside my head. He told me to bring the frog into the house. He said that if you didn’t see it, it would be OK.”
“I see,” said Alexander’s mother. “Well, where do you suppose the little fox got the idea? Do you suppose that you could have given him the idea?”
“Me? Oh no! Well … I mean … I don’t know.” Alexander gave his mom his best crooked grin, but it didn’t help.
“Well then, why don’t you just go to your room and think about it for a while,” she said.
Later that day Alexander sneaked six cookies out of the cookie jar. At dinner he ate one bite of meat, two bites of potato, and three peas.
“Why aren’t you eating your dinner, Alexander?” his mother asked.
“Well,” Alexander said, “there’s a big lion in my tummy. He growled at me this afternoon and told me that if I didn’t feed him six cookies right away, he would bite me. So, you see, it’s really not my fault that I’m not hungry anymore—except for dessert.”
“I see,” said Alexander’s mother. “Since you’ve already fed the lion in your tummy, I don’t think that he needs any dessert. Besides, I don’t think tummy-lions like apple pie—especially apple pie with big scoops of vanilla ice cream on it. So you may be excused from the table now.”
The next day was rainy; Alexander brought out his train set. He very neatly laid out the tracks with a mountain tunnel, a switchover track, and a big loop-the-loop track. Just as Alexander started his train for the very first ride, his little brother came skipping into the room and tripped on Alexander’s train tracks. The tunnel turned over, the switchover track came apart, and the loop-the-loop track lopped sideways.
“You clumsy little kid!” Alexander screamed at his brother. “Just look at what you did!” When Alexander made a fist and started to run after his little brother, he ran right into his mother.
“I’m sorry about your track, Alexander,” she said softly. “I’ll help you put it together again. But you weren’t really going to hit your brother, were you? You know it was just an accident.”
“I know,” said Alexander sadly, “but if I’d hit him, it wouldn’t have been my fault. You see, there’s a big dragon inside me. Most of the time he just sleeps, but when he wakes up, he opens his fiery mouth and lets out mean words. And when someone makes him angry, sometimes he makes me hit that person. I think he’s angry now because he wanted to see the train go.”
“I see,” said Alexander’s mother. “Well, I don’t blame him for being angry. But there is a better way to take care of those feelings. Do you think that your dragon can count? Tell him to count to ten before he says anything. Then if he still feels angry, I think that he will be able to say how he feels without mean words or hitting.”
“I don’t know,” said Alexander doubtfully, “but I’ll tell him.”
The next day was bright and sunny. It’s a perfect day to finish building my hideout, thought Alexander. All I need is something to cover it so that it will be cozy and cool inside.
Alexander ran into the kitchen, snatched a tablecloth off the kitchen table, and was headed back outside when he spied this note taped to the screen door: “Alexander, please don’t listen to the fox!”
So he didn’t. Alexander put the tablecloth back on the kitchen table. Then he just stood there for a moment and thought.
Suddenly Alexander tore through the house, threw open his bedroom door, and scrambled inside his closet. He pulled out tennis shoes and slippers. He pulled out rain boots and snow boots. Finally he pulled out an old sheet that he and his brother had used last fall as a circus tent. It would make a perfect cover for his hideout! Alexander grinned his crooked grin.
Pretty soon Alexander’s tummy began to make funny sounds. Uh-oh, Alexander thought. The lion must be hungry. I think he wants some cookies. Alexander went back into the kitchen. He was just reaching inside the cookie jar when he noticed this note taped on it: “Alexander, please don’t feed the lion!”
So he didn’t. Instead, Alexander went to find his mother. “I’m hungry, Mom! When’s lunch?”
“I’m glad that you asked,” his mother said. “I was just about to make it. Maybe you’d like to help me.”
Alexander ate all his sandwich, all his soup, two helpings of potato chips, and some chocolate pudding. “Now both of us feel better,” Alexander told his mother. “I guess the lion likes sandwiches too.”
“Even tummy-lions need a change from cookies,” agreed his mother, smiling.
Later that day Alexander and his little brother were playing with their building blocks. Alexander had built a monster-size castle with towers, thick walls, and a drawbridge. His little brother was working on a mouse-size house.
“I need one of these red blocks,” his little brother said, and he reached over and took one from the bottom of one of Alexander’s towers.
The tower started to topple, and suddenly, right before Alexander’s astonished eyes, his whole beautiful monster castle was in ruins.
His little brother got up and ran. Alexander ran after him. Just as Alexander grabbed his little brother by the arm and opened his mouth to shout angry, mean words at him, an arm appeared in the doorway, holding this large sign: “Alexander, please ask the dragon to count!”
So he did. Alexander helped the dragon count to ten; then he smiled his crooked grin, hugged his little brother, and asked him to help rebuild the monster castle. And it was bigger and better than before.

McLear was different from most deer. Most deer are timid, but McLear wasn’t afraid of anything!
He would go into the haunted house or jump off the high bridge over Blueberry Creek. He would even walk past the mean bull in the back pasture.
He could run faster down the slope and climb higher up the bluff than anyone else. So naturally when little Betty Bobcat climbed too high and was afraid to come down, everyone thought of McLear.
“McLear will rescue her,” cried Reggie Rabbit. He ran to get McLear.
“Come quick!” he shouted. “Betty is stuck on the bluff, and no one can get her down.”
When they reached the bluff, McLear saw that it was very steep and that the little bobcat was on a very narrow ledge. But he bravely climbed up and brought her down.
After that everyone said that he was the bravest deer in the whole world. And pretty soon he began to believe them!
But Willy Weasel did not like all the attention McLear got. One day Willy said, “I’ll bet you’re not brave enough to pick up Sulky Snake.”
“Pooh,” bragged McLear. “I’m not afraid.” He grabbed Sulky by his tail and held him high.
“Oh! McLear is the bravest deer in the whole universe!” cried Milly Meadow Mouse.
“Humph!” sniffed Grandfather Bear. “That’s not brave. That’s foolhardy. Some day he’ll pick up the wrong snake. Then he’ll learn that it’s sometimes smart to be afraid.”
McLear just laughed and took every dare his friends could think of. Once they dared him to sneak up on Sammy Skunk and scare him. Then they wouldn’t play with McLear for a week because he smelled so bad.
Another time Willy dared him to eat a red pepper in one bite.
“Don’t do it McLear!” cried Reggie.
McLear had never tasted a red pepper. But he didn’t want Willy to think that he was afraid, so he popped the whole pepper into his mouth and chomped. Suddenly he felt like he was on fire! He nearly drank Blueberry Creek dry, hoping his mouth and stomach would stop burning.
Willy and his friends rolled on the ground. They laughed until tears ran down their cheeks. McLear knew that they weren’t laughing because he’d been brave.
The next day the forest animals saw Percy Porcupine sleeping under a tree.
“McLear,” said Willy, “I dare you to sneak up and pat Percy’s tail.”
McLear looked at Percy’s prickly tail. Then he looked at Willy. Willy had a sly grin on his face. McLear gulped hard. “No!” he shouted. “You just want to see me get hurt so that you can laugh at me!”
The forest animals gasped.
“I never thought that McLear would be afraid of anything,” Reggie said sadly.
“I guess he’s losing his nerve.”
“You’re wrong, Reggie,” said Grandfather Bear. “That’s the bravest thing McLear has ever done. It takes more courage to say no than to take a foolish dare.”

Soon my 12th birthday came. I was ordained a deacon. Around this time, my family moved to Madison, Wisconsin, USA. I missed my friends, but I was excited to make new ones. Madison was much bigger than Manti. My new school was large. There weren’t many members of the Church. One day some popular kids invited me to a party. But the party was on the same night as a Church activity. I had learned from my experience in Primary that good things happen when I am faithful in attending my Church meetings. I thanked them for inviting me, and I explained why I couldn’t come.
The day after the party, everyone at school was talking about it. They had been drinking alcohol at the party, and everyone who went got in a lot of trouble! I was so grateful that I had been where I needed to be.

A few years ago I awoke in the middle of the night after dreaming that I had been asked to be a speaker in a BYU devotional. In that dream the complete outline of what I was supposed to talk about was clear to me. For the first time in my life I groped in the dark for a pencil and a Post-It pad on the nightstand and wrote the title of this talk. I promptly went back to sleep. The note was barely readable the next morning, and, worst of all, the memory of the details of the talk had faded from my mind just like dreams normally do. When I told my wife about this dream and showed her the note, we joked about the unlikely possibility of ever having to give the talk. During the next few years, however, I was intrigued by the topic and occasionally jotted down notes in my journal, not really thinking that I would have this opportunity.
Elder Scott’s advice to immediately write down spiritual impressions you receive is important for all of us. Imagine how much more I might have remembered had I followed the impression of my dream by not just recording the title but getting up and recording the impressions of that dream. I am eternally grateful for how patient and long-suffering our Heavenly Father is.

Mara bounced happily on the tall kitchen stool as she watched Grandma get out the ingredients for her wonderful tarts. Grandma hummed as she worked, and by the time she rolled out the dough, Mara was humming along with her. “These tarts will be good for your sister’s wedding reception tomorrow,” Grandma said.
“Why can’t I go inside the temple for Alyse’s wedding, Grandma?”
Grandma stopped rolling for a minute. “Well, because you’re not old enough to understand the special covenants we make there.”
“What’s a covenant?”
“A covenant is a promise you make with another person, Mara. In the temple we make special promises with Heavenly Father, and He promises us great blessings when we do our part. All this is part of what we call the endowment.”
Grandmother began rolling out the dough again. When the dough was thin enough, she cut out small circles and carefully fit them into the muffin cups.
Mara watched her grandmother’s wrinkled hands creating the beautiful little tarts. “Grandma, what’s it like inside the temple?”
“There are beautiful flowers and pictures to see. It is beautiful and peaceful, Mara. Everyone is dressed in white, and it feels as though you are surrounded by angels. We learn about Heavenly Father and Jesus there, for the temple is God’s house.”
“I know,” Mara said. “In Primary we sing a song about it called ‘I Love to See the Temple.’ It makes me feel quiet and reverent inside. Is that what the temple feels like?”
“Yes, dear,” Grandma replied. “When you sing that song from the Children’s Songbook, the Holy Ghost helps you have those quiet, reverent feelings. And when you visit the temple, those peaceful, reverent feelings are even stronger. As we worship God in the temple, we can feel His love and peace.”
Grandma spooned fruit filling into the little dough cups, then wove strips of pastry on top of each one. Her white hair bobbed as she moved back and forth. She looked up and smiled at Mara.
“I have another question,” Mara said, smiling back. “Why does everyone wear white in the temple?”
“Wearing white clothes helps us to remember to have thoughts that are pure and clean. Then we can better understand the instruction and guidance we receive there.”
Mara twirled around on her stool. “Dad said that when you get married in the temple, you are married for eternity, not just until you die. Is that why Alyse and Paul want to get married in the temple?”
“That’s one reason. And when they have children, each one will automatically be sealed to them in a ‘forever family.’ Some people get married, then have to work to become worthy of temple blessings, and many people have died without even knowing about them. Once living people are worthy, they can receive the temple ordinances for themselves and for the dead. That way, if they are worthy, everybody who lives or who has lived on earth can be joined together as families and as part of God’s eternal family.”
“Wow! I sure want to be married in the temple when I grow up, Grandma. Will you make your tarts for my reception too?”
Grandma winked at her. “I’m looking forward to it!”

“‘He that findeth his life shall lose it: and he that loseth his life for my sake shall find it.’”* Dad finished reading the scripture and set the Bible on his lap. “What do you think this verse means?” he asked.
Peter, the oldest child in the family, raised his hand. “Does it mean giving service to others?”
Mom nodded. “That’s one way we can give ourselves to the Lord. For our new year’s resolution, we’ve decided to focus on giving service to others and to our family.”
“We have decided to spend one family home evening each month serving someone else,” Dad said.
“We are also going to stop buying gifts for the whole year,” Mom continued.
Robbin and Peter sat up straight.
“No gifts!” Peter cried.
“No presents?” Robbin asked.
Julia was quiet, too little to understand.
Mom shook her head.
“Wait a minute!” Robbin exclaimed. “No presents? None at all?”
“I didn’t say no presents,” Mom said. “We’re not buying any presents. This year, we’re going to make presents for each other.”
Peter and Robbin looked at each other doubtfully. It didn’t sound like much fun.
Valentine’s Day came quickly, and for family home evening they baked and decorated cookies, something they hadn’t done in a long time. They took some to an elderly neighbor and left the plate on the porch anonymously. As the family shared their homemade valentines, it seemed like this was the best Valentine’s Day they’d ever had.
For Easter, Peter made a treasure hunt for Robbin using an old Easter basket and plastic eggs stored from last year. Inside the basket was his favorite puzzle, which he knew Robbin enjoyed.
Robbin drew pictures for Mother’s Day, and Peter washed the car inside and out for Father’s Day.
Mom started a Sunday tradition of baking gingerbread, always two batches. The family ate one and delivered the other to someone in the ward.
As Christmas drew near, the family worked secretly as they made presents for each other. On Christmas morning, the children awoke to find a large pile of presents in front of the tree, along with their own handmade gifts.
“There aren’t any names on these ones,” Robbin said, patting a large box.
“Who are they for?” Peter asked.
Julia scrambled around the packages, pulling at the bows and paper.
Mom smiled. “Let’s open them and find out.”
Peter tore open a heavy package. “Bars of soap? How many bars of soap do I need?”
Robbin unwrapped another box. “Toothpaste?” She giggled. “Mom, there must be 20 boxes of toothpaste in here. Oh, and toothbrushes.”
Julia opened two packages with lots of combs. Peter opened a slim box of zipping plastic bags. He started to laugh. “Mom, why do I need plastic bags for Christmas?”
“Towels!” Robbin exclaimed, lifting a bundle of colorful towels out of a box.
Peter smiled at Mom and Dad. “All right. What’s going on?”
“With all of these things we can make hygiene kits,” Dad said. “The Church sends them to people who are in an emergency situation and have nothing.”
“Like an earthquake?” Robbin guessed.
Mom nodded. “Exactly. Let’s make these hygiene kits, and hopefully we’ll feel more grateful for our wonderful blessings this Christmas season.”
They quickly formed an assembly line. Each person was assigned an item to place in the bags—two bars of soap, four toothbrushes, one toothpaste tube, two combs, and two towels.
“You know,” Robbin said as she carefully placed two more combs into a bag, “this is fun. It makes me feel good to think we’re helping someone else.”
Everyone agreed, and they felt the joy that comes from serving others.

Brett was excited. He had just gotten a letter from his big brother Tony. Tony was a missionary. Before Tony left, Brett promised him that he would do missionary work too.
Dear Brett, Did you know that when you serve others, you are doing missionary work? I can’t wait to hear about all the missionary work you are doing. Love, Tony
Mom, I want to serve others so I can do missionary work like Tony. What can I do?
I know Mrs. Hampton could use some help raking her leaves on Saturday. Would that be a good way to do missionary work?
Yes! Then I could write Tony and tell him all about it.
The next Saturday, Brett sat down to write Tony a letter.
Dear Tony, I hope you are having as much fun as I am doing missionary work. We helped Mrs. Hampton today in her yard. She gave us a plate of cookies. Dad asked her if she wanted to come to church with us, and she said yes. Love, Brett
Brett folded the paper and stuck the letter and one leaf from Mrs. Hampton’s yard inside an envelope.
I can be a missionary too!

Photograph from Getty Images
On a cold winter night in February, my two children and I, along with my mother, Jo Ann, were driving to Idaho. Our eight-hour drive included driving through two mountain passes. During this time of year, the weather can be brutal.
We had just left Baker City, Oregon, when it began to snow. As we drove, the snowflakes grew bigger and bigger. Within minutes, as we drove through a mountain pass, I could not see anything in front of me, so I pulled over. I prayed to Heavenly Father to help me get my family to safety. After I prayed, a semitruck pulled up behind us, stopping within inches of my bumper.
The driver never got out of his truck, and I never saw his face. But I knew at that moment that he had come to protect us. By parking behind us, he used his truck lights to alert other drivers that we had pulled over. When I finally got the courage to continue driving, we pulled back onto the road behind another semitruck while the first semitruck stayed behind us. We drove between the two trucks as they guided us out of danger.
As we left the mountain pass, the snow turned to rain. I wanted to thank the driver behind us, but as soon as we were out of the pass, I couldn’t see him. By then, I knew we were going to be OK and would make it home safe and sound, which we did.
I have never been so scared in my life. I am grateful that Heavenly Father sent guardian angels to protect us, ease our worries, and give me the strength and courage I needed to bring my family home.
“I have never been so scared in my life,” says Chelsey, pictured with her mother, Jo Ann Bressler, and her sons, Wyatt and Adam.
Photograph courtesy of the author
Ironically, I am the daughter of a truck driver. Heavenly Father answered my prayer by sending us protectors in the form of truck drivers. My testimony grew much that night—not only of prayer but also that He is with us always and forever.

I wish every adult leader in the Church could have been in attendance to share the spirit of that testimony meeting. With deep emotion, one lovely girl spoke of her reaction when it was discovered that her father had cancer. How she prayed and prayed that he be healed, then came to the realization that her prayers were selfish—that our loving Father in heaven was in control and that she should submit to his will. She evidenced a very mature outlook on life, something that some of us as adults never experience in a lifetime of living.

Having confidence in the presence of God is a powerful blessing and relates directly to the second part of the pattern pray always. Prayer is an opportunity for us to enter the presence of the Lord. The Hymn Sweet Hour of Prayer expresses the thought beautifully. " Sweet hour of prayer, sweet hour of prayer that calls me from a world of care and bids me at my fathers throne, make all my wants and whishes known" The Lord asks us not only to pray but to pray always. I would like to relate two experiences that taught me somewhat of the meaning of pray always. In 1991 I was playing on a ward softball team that was participating in the local city league in Manhattan, Kansas. Before each game we would gather as a team to have a prayer. At one particular game for some reason we forgot to pray before the game. I was playing second base and in the second inning when we were in the field the first baseman said to me Hey we didn't have a prayer before the game. I responded, yes you are right. But silently I clearly remember thinking. "Ah so what, nothing ever happens at these games". Two innings later we were in the field again. The first batter up hit a hard low line drive directly at me. I could tell by the flight of the ball that it was going to hit about 5 feet in front of me. It was going to be a one hopper, one of the easiest infield plays. Now, I am a fairly coordinated person, and I have played a fair amount of infield. To this day I do not know how I missed the ball but I missed it. It hit me right in the mouth and knocked me to my knees. My very first thought was, I sure hope I still have my teeth. After checking my teeth my second thought was, I guess we should have had that prayer. My lip was split from the bottom of my nose all the way down. It took two hours in the emergency room and 15 to 20 stitches to patch me up. You can draw your own conclusions but I believe that I was taught a lesson that day. Regular prayer makes a difference. Even those prayers we say routinely such as at the beginning of activities or sporting events or meetings. God is paying attention and we should pray always with the understanding and faith that He is paying attention. Answers to our regular daily prayers are not often immediate but we should continue to pray regularly with the faith that the Lord will bless us. Whenever we pray we are approaching the throne of God and our attitude should be one of reverence and faith. Remember the brother of Jared. In Ether 2:14 we read "It came to pass at the end of four years the Lord came again unto the Brother of Jared, and stood in a cloud and talked with him and for the space of three hours did the Lord talk with the Brother of Jared and chastened him because he remembered not to call upon the name of the Lord." These are not lessons I have applied perfectly in my life but they are lessons I will always remember because I a reminded of them every time I shave.

The second experience happened some years earlier. We were living in Salt Lake City, our oldest daughter Lisle was 2 and Sandee was pregnant with our second daughter Monica. And I was about to lose my job. Within a few short weeks we would have no income and no health insurance. About this time a large well established company in Massachusetts began recruiting me for the position of customer service representative. They were very positive about my chances. The entire family would fly to the east coast on a Friday and spend the week-end in looking for a place to live. On Monday I would visit with representatives of the company and we would finalize the deal. Surely this was a blessing waiting to happen. On the day before the trip Sandee asked have you prayed about this. I said no, it seemed fairly obvious to me that the Lord was going to bless us with a job on the East coast. She said, I think you should pray. As usual Sandee's counsel was wise. I agreed and sought out a quiet place to pray. I knelt down and no sooner did I begin to ask the question than the Spirit whispered to me, as clearly as it ever has, they will offer you the job but you should not take it. I would like to be able to report that I immediately stood up and announced to Sandee that the Lord had counseled that I not take the job. We were going to have to find something else. What actually happened is I thought "there must be some mistake. This can't be right. We had better go to Massachusetts and check this out", So off to Massachusetts we went. The entire week-end was one long stupor of thought. On Monday morning I sat down with the Vice President. We had talked for no more than a minute when he said "you don't want this job" and I said you're right I don't. At that point I felt like a burden was lifted. Later, sitting in our rental car in the company parking lot, Sandee and I discussed our situation. We did not know how the Lord would bless us, but he did. The way was made possible for me to go back to school and study librarianship. One of the lessons that I learned from that experience does not specifically fit with what I have been discussing but I will share it anyway. That is you can have no greater blessing in life than an eternal companion who loves the Lord and is full of faith and has an obedient heart. Sandee is all of that and I am greatly blessed because of it. What may seem like the most obvious path to choose is not always the right path. We should seek the counsel of the Lord through prayer and he will lead us in the direction which is best for us. And when the Spirit whispers to us we should be believing.