Gospel Story Finder

At first I thought seminary would be hard.
I had to change schools, and seminary was early in the morning. I didn’t think it would work because I had a lot of homework and other things going on.
But when I started going to seminary, time just opened up for me. Now, I always have enough time for my homework. And I’m always excited the next day to get up and go back to seminary again. My friends and I support each other and learn a lot while we’re there.

A vivid example of the position of members of the Church in relation to the world was portrayed to us one evening in our sacrament meeting, now many years ago, when a man named Brother Smith came to speak. He told us of his experience in working to rehabilitate men in the state penitentiary. A mother had asked him to reach out to her boy who was in prison.

In approaching the young man, Brother Smith was rudely rebuffed: “Leave me alone,” was the tone. However, Brother Smith noticed a rather crude painting in the prison one day and on inquiry learned that this young man had drawn it. This inspired a new approach:

“Did you paint that picture?”

“Yes, I did it.”

“I was impressed with it. I wonder if you would paint something for me.”

“I don’t know. What picture do you want?”

“I have never seen it,” said Brother Smith. “I have only read about it.”

“Where is it?” inquired the young man.

“It is here in this book,” responded Brother Smith. “The Book of Mormon, 1 Nephi, chapter 8. Will you read it and see if you can see the picture?”

Later Brother Smith inquired if the young man had read it.

“Yes, I read it,” he said.

“Did you see the picture?”

“Yes, I saw it.”

“Will you paint it for me?”

“I don’t know if I will or not.”

Brother Smith then obtained the necessary materials for painting a picture and presented them to the young man, who for the first time responded with warmth and appreciation to be able to use good equipment, and he painted the picture. Brother Smith brought it with him to our sacrament meeting, and so I have seen it. It is, of course, the picture of Lehi’s dream.

Now, will you try to see the picture in your own imagination? All you who have read 1 Nephi, chapter 8, will recall the scene. If you have not read it, I wish you would do so and get the feeling and the vision of this picture.

The description is as follows: First, Lehi wandering through a dreary waste, then coming to a spacious field; the tree with the most desirable fruit to be happy, the love of God; Lehi’s desire to share the fruit with his family; the rebellion of two of his sons; the pressing forward of many people to receive the fruit; the mists of darkness, which arose to obscure the path; the river of water along the path, which could mean destruction; the rod of iron, which represented security in staying on the path; the huge building across the river filled with scoffing people; the susceptibility of those who had followed the path to succumb to the scorn and pride of those of the world; and the wandering away of those who had partaken of the fruit of the tree of life into forbidden paths of destruction.

I know of no more graphic description of the condition of those who call themselves Latter-day Saints in relation to the influences of the world than this great vision. This story is reality. It is a great prophesy. It is a vivid warning.

Let me complete the story of the young man in prison. Brother Smith pointed to an angel the young man had painted hovering over the chasm of filthy water and asked him: “Where did you get that angel? I don’t remember any angel when I read about the picture.”

The young man replied: “I know. I put it there. It is my angel. As I painted the picture, I began to realize that God had placed an influence in my way which could bring me to safety and redeem me from the course I have been pursuing.”

This experience, of course, was the beginning of his recovery.

Let me tell you of an experience I had when I was a little boy in the first or second grade. I came home from school one day, threw my books on the table, and took the name of the Lord in vain in expressing my relief that school was out for the day.

My mother heard me. She was shocked. She took me by the hand and led me to the bathroom. There she got a clean washcloth and a clean bar of soap. She told me to open my mouth, then proceeded to wash my mouth out with that terrible soap. I blubbered and protested. She stayed at it for what seemed a long time, and then said, “Don’t let me ever hear such words from your lips again.”

The taste was terrible. The reprimand was worse. I have never forgotten it, and I hope that I have never used the Lord’s name in vain since that time.

Meeting the missionaries while breaking into a car might seem a little odd, but that’s exactly what happened to John Clout of the Enoggerra Ward, Brisbane Australia Stake. Actually, he was doing the missionaries a favor—they had locked their keys in the car—and to express their gratitude, they offered to share their message about Jesus Christ with him. After obtaining his parents’ permission, John, along with his sister Aimee, took the discussions.
“It was the night of the third discussion—the restoration of the gospel—that my mother became interested in what the missionaries had to say,” recalls John.
John, Aimee, and his mother were all baptized on Easter Sunday in 1989. John’s dad joined the Church four years later. John is now preparing to go on a mission, so that he might bring the gospel message to others, as two missionaries did to him.
“I have grown considerably since joining the Church,” says John. “The principles and teachings have taught me good standards and morals that have helped me in my youth and for my future.”

In 1849, President Brigham Young called a small number of men to travel to various parts of the world to preach the gospel. A former Swedish sailor, John Forsgren, who had joined the Church in Massachusetts, USA, and traveled to the Salt Lake Valley, asked President Young to be sent to Sweden as a missionary. He was called to serve and arrived in Sweden in June 1850.
Elder Forsgren first visited his younger siblings in Gävle. His brother Peter was ill, and doctors said he was beyond help. Elder Forsgren explained the purpose of his mission to his siblings, then anointed and blessed Peter, who was restored to full health. On July 19, 1850, Elder Forsgren baptized his brother, who became the first convert in Sweden.
Elder Forsgren’s sister, Erika, had an interesting experience that prepared her and Peter to receive the gospel. A few months before her brother’s arrival, she was attending church, as was her custom. During the singing of a hymn, she saw a person stand before her and say, “On the fifth day of July a man will come to you with three books and all those that believe in the things written in those books shall be saved.” When her brother arrived with the Bible, the Book of Mormon, and the Doctrine and Covenants, she believed his testimony without question.1
In 1850 Peter Forsgren, above, was baptized by his brother John.
Photograph courtesy of Susan Easton Black
Unfortunately, Elder Forsgren had to leave the country after just three months. Within a few years other missionaries were sent to Sweden. They found the people in Skönabäck, in the province of Skåne, receptive to the gospel. So many were converted that the first branch was organized there in 1853 with 36 members. One of the first leaders in Skåne was Carl Capson, called as the branch president in Lund. Around 100 members attended the first Church conference in Carl’s barn, which was held at night to avoid persecution.2

I once served as husband to the stake Young Women president. One night I was tasked with arranging cookies in the foyer while my wife was conducting a fireside in the chapel for parents and their daughters preparing to attend Young Women camp the next week. After explaining where to be and what to bring, she said, “Now, Tuesday morning when you drop your sweet girls off at the bus, you hug them tight. And you kiss them goodbye—because they are not coming back.”
I heard someone gasp, then realized it was me. “Not coming back?”
But then she continued: “When you drop off those Tuesday-morning girls, they will leave behind the distractions of lesser things and spend a week together learning and growing and trusting in the Lord. We will pray together and sing and cook and serve together and share testimonies together and do the things that allow us to feel Heavenly Father’s Spirit, all week long, until it soaks all the way into our bones. And on Saturday, those girls that you see getting off that bus will not be the ones you dropped off on Tuesday. They will be new creatures. And if you help them continue from that higher plane, they will astonish you. They will continue to change and to grow. And so will your family.”
On that Saturday, it was just as she predicted. As I was loading tents, I heard my wife’s voice in the little woodsy amphitheater where the girls had gathered before heading for home. I heard her say, “Oh, there you are. We’ve been watching for you all week. Our Saturday girls.”

Once, at the Jordan River Temple, Elder Ashton was approached by a young man about to be married. “Do you know where you met me last?” the young man asked. “At the Utah State Prison. You spoke to the inmates at a Christmas gathering there.”
“Oh,” responded Elder Ashton, a little surprised. “What did I say to help you?”
“I don’t remember what you said,” the young man replied, “but afterwards you came down among us and shook my hand. When I realized that an Apostle of the Lord would shake the hand of a man like me, I knew I must be worth something.” This experience had marked the beginning of repentance and forgiveness for the young man.

From Oyo, Nigeria. Likes to play football (soccer).
I knew a boy from church who was a bully before, but one day he suddenly changed. I decided to ask him, “Why did you change?” He told me that he prayed, read his scriptures, had faith, and worked hard to change his behavior. It helped me because now when I want to make a decision, academically or spiritually, I usually pray for God to guide me.
My friend might not be perfect, but his behavior touched my heart. Now I usually read the scriptures before I take any step in my life. My friend’s example has brought me closer to Christ because any time I sin, I can go back to the Lord in prayer and repentance. Going to the Lord has helped me set aside my burdens.

Number four comes from a contemporary of Abraham Lincoln, and this picture is entitled “Honesty.” During American slave days a little black girl was placed upon the auction block to be sold to the highest bidder. A prospective purchaser approached and said to this little girl, “If I buy you and give you a good home and treat you kindly and feed you well, will you promise me that you will be honest?” This wonderful little black girl said, “I will promise you that I will be honest whether you buy me and treat me kindly or feed me well or not.”

President Thomas S. Monson was 22 years old when he was called to be a bishop. As a young bishop, he watched carefully over the members of his ward, especially those who didn’t often come to church.
One Sunday morning he noticed that a young man named Richard was missing. This was not unusual because Richard often missed church. But Bishop Monson decided to try to find him. First he went to Richard’s home. When Richard’s mother answered the door, she said he was working at a gas station.
Bishop Monson drove to the gas station. He looked everywhere but could not find Richard. Then he felt inspired to look down in the grease pit at the side of the building. As he looked down into the dark pit, he saw a pair of shining eyes looking back at him and heard Richard say, “You found me, Bishop! I’ll come up.”
Bishop Monson told Richard how much the priests quorum missed him and needed him. Richard nodded and promised to come to church the next Sunday. He came to church the next week and the weeks after that. Then he and his family moved away.
One evening Bishop Monson got a phone call from the bishop in Richard’s new ward. He asked Bishop Monson to give a talk in the ward before Richard left to serve a mission. Richard served as a valiant missionary, and he also later served as a bishop. He said that the turning point in his life was when Bishop Monson found him in a grease pit that Sunday morning and encouraged him to come back to church.

A woman wondered how a friend living in a foreign country had helped her young children adjust so well to a different culture. She commented that she and her husband had been trying to teach their children to be tolerant and to value differences in others by inviting children from the community to play in their home. But their children were still judgmental and critical of the other children. “What more can we do to teach our children tolerance?” she asked her friend. The friend answered that she and her husband invited not only children into their home but also the parents of the children.

We can encourage our children to play with a variety of children, hoping the experience will enlarge their circles of friendships. But if in our own socialization we friendship only those similar to ourselves, all the encouraging and teaching we do will fall on deaf ears. The children will hear what is being said but will not be sure of what it means.

May I share with you brethren my personal experience as a teachers quorum president? The member of the bishopric who had responsibility for us invited the new presidency and secretary to come to his home for leadership training. He wanted our ideas concerning how we should go about our newly given duties. We obliged—on condition that he would invite his wife, Nettie, to serve us some of the meat pies for which she was famous. This he agreed to do. Brethren, isn’t it remarkable how we men will obligate our wives to do things—often without notice? The resulting meeting was one of the best I have ever attended. We were taught to the level of our understanding and inspired to look after our quorum members.
After a delicious meat pie smothered with gravy, we asked the bishop’s counselor and his wife to join in a game of Monopoly®. I am certain they had other things to do, but they willingly complied with our request.
I don’t remember who won the Monopoly game, but I have never forgotten the lessons learned that night in Church government and in the administration of a priesthood quorum.

Joselito B. tells about being assigned to take part in a storytelling contest when he was 12 years old. His teacher asked him to memorize a 10-page script that he would have to perform in front of hundreds of other students and faculty. This can be a daunting task for anyone, let alone for Joselito, who usually gets stage fright.
“So the first thing I did was say a prayer and ask for guidance,” says Joselito. “During my prayer I asked that if I forgot part of the script, I could keep going and make up new lines that would work for my story. After I was done praying, I remembered my favorite scripture from the Bible in the Old Testament. It is in Proverbs 3:6, which says, ‘In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.’”
Joselito was nervous. But he worked hard for an entire week memorizing the script. And he prayed a lot every day. Finally the day of the contest arrived.
During the greetings that opened the contest, Joselito was still very nervous. “But during the story I was fine,” he says. “I just did my best, and I knew that God would help me. I was frustrated and intimidated because there were so many students, but God answered my prayers.”
Not only was Joselito able to remember the script to his story, but he also performed it so well that he earned first place in the contest. Joselito says, “Prayer is the answer when you have no one around to comfort you. God is always there to help you.”

I hardly considered myself a dating machine, which is why I was stunned when I was asked out not once, but twice in the same week. I couldn’t believe my luck. I scheduled a date with one boy for Friday and the other for Saturday. I was feeling pretty smug about how popular with the young men I had become.
My Friday night date went as planned. We had a nice dinner and then went to meet a group of his friends to play a board game. We arrived at his friend’s house and waited for the rest of the group to arrive. People trickled in every few minutes, but I didn’t really notice. There wasn’t going to be anyone I knew here.
Until I locked eyes with someone I recognized. I froze.
My Saturday night date was staring right back at me.
I could have died. I suddenly didn’t feel so proud of myself for landing two dates that weekend. I tried to give my Saturday night date some kind of facial signal that expressed my embarrassment over the situation, but to my surprise, he looked like he was trying to keep from bursting out laughing. He gave me a meaningful nod to indicate that this would be our little secret. We went about the rest of the evening without discussing the mishap so as to spare my current date, who had no idea his friend had asked me out for the following evening.
When he picked me up the next evening for our date, we were able to laugh about what happened the night before. I know how lucky I was that his feelings hadn’t been hurt when he saw me on a date with his friend. The Church encourages dating different people when we’re young, but I became more aware of how my dating decisions could hurt others if I was not careful. Even though it was an accident, the experience taught me an important lesson about treating dates with the consideration and respect they deserve.

After high school, David studied business at Utah State University. He graduated, found a job at a Salt Lake City department store, and was put in charge of hiring new employees. That’s when he met his sweetheart, Ruby Olson.

After spring term at the University of Utah, Ruby was hired to work at the store where David worked. He soon asked her to lunch. They dated for a year and were married in the Salt Lake Temple on 4 September 1930. Elder Haight said, “Ruby and I were married the right way, sealed in the temple with its divine covenants and commitments that promote trustworthiness, faithfulness, devotion, and dedication.”4 He and Ruby enjoyed 74 years of marriage. They have 3 children, 18 grandchildren, and 78 great-grandchildren.

Matt, 16, and Camille Baughman, 18, of the Summerville Ward were told by their parents to get together a change of clothes, their scriptures and journal, and a flashlight, in case they had to leave home quickly. Camille said, “It was hard because Mom said we should get two things we wanted to save. At first I wanted to take all my clothes, but then I decided on my violin.”
After the hurricane Matt pitched in to help his father, who as stake president was coordinating relief efforts. Camille saw a side of her brother she had never seen before. “I was impressed,” she said. “He got up early, worked all day, and went to bed exhausted. I thought, ‘Wow, that’s not the brother I knew.’”

Our family enjoys nature. We spend almost every Saturday outside—hiking, camping, bike riding, or sightseeing in the summer; and sledding, skiing, or taking walks in the snow in the winter. These are wonderful family times that give my husband and me opportunities to converse with our three children.
One summer day we hiked around a lake in a nearby forest. It was perfect weather: sunny and warm with a refreshing, cool breeze from the lake. As we made our way down the trail, we pointed out the wildflowers and trees. We discussed how much Heavenly Father must love us to create such beauty for our enjoyment. We tried to decide which was the most beautiful place we had seen. One child suggested nearby Yellowstone National Park. Someone else suggested a favorite camping spot. We thought about our trip to the ocean and the beauty of a cross-country ski trail with trees covered in glistening snow.
Our youngest child, Jacob, age 7, who had been quietly listening to our discussion, said, “I think the most beautiful place in the world is where all the things about Jesus are.” Things about Jesus? My mind searched for a connection, and then I realized that Jacob meant Temple Square in Salt Lake City. With the magnificent temple, trees, fountains, and flower gardens, Temple Square is indeed a beautiful place. But to Jacob, Temple Square means more than the outward beauty of nature alone.
Born with a complex congenital heart defect, Jacob is the veteran of three heart surgeries and numerous medical tests, with many more surgeries anticipated. His doctor frequently comes to Idaho, but for Jacob’s surgeries and some tests, we must travel to Primary Children’s Medical Center in Salt Lake City. These trips are often filled with anxiety and worry about Jacob’s health, and we have found that a trip to Temple Square helps calm our nerves and reminds us of Heavenly Father’s plan and of our need to trust in Him.
The night before Jacob’s most recent and most complicated surgery, we took him to the Temple Square visitors’ center, where we sat together looking at that glorious statue of the Savior—the Christus. Peaceful, warm, and safe in a parent’s lap and not wanting to leave, Jacob sat uncharacteristically still and kept asking to stay for “just five more minutes,” until our time there stretched past an hour. When at long last we needed to leave, we all felt at peace and ready to cope with whatever the surgery would bring.
I believe that Temple Square is beautiful to Jacob not because of what he sees there but because of what he feels there. Heavenly Father’s gifts of peace, hope, and comfort are more beautiful than anything Jacob can remember seeing with his physical eyes.
Understanding Heavenly Father’s plan and accepting and trusting in His will can bring indescribable peace and joy. When we become discouraged, upset, or afraid, there is somewhere to turn—not to a specific beautiful place but to our Savior Jesus Christ. And I think Jacob is right: nothing is more beautiful than that.

Jim tried his best to wipe away the tears before he got home. He didn’t want Mom to see that he had been crying.
Randy, a boy in his class, stopped Jim every day after school and called him names. Jim tried not to let it bother him, but when Randy started saying mean things about Jim being a Mormon, Jim couldn’t hold back the tears.
As Jim opened the front door, Mom looked up from the sofa. She could see that something was wrong. “What happened?” she asked.
“Nothing,” Jim mumbled.
Mom patted the cushion by her. “Tell me, please.”
Jim sat on the sofa next to her. “There’s this boy at school named Randy who keeps calling me names,” Jim said. “Today he said Mormons are weird.”
“That must have hurt,” Mom said.
Jim nodded. “What can I do?”
Mom gave him a quick hug. “I think you can figure out something. Just remember that Heavenly Father loves Randy—just like He loves you.”
Jim thought about his problem. “Maybe I could invite Randy home and make cookies,” he said.
“I think that’s a great idea,” Mom said.
The next day, Jim worked up the courage to talk to Randy. “Hey, Randy,” Jim said. “We’re going to make cookies at my house tomorrow. Do you want to come?”
Randy squinted at Jim and raised an eyebrow. “What kind of cookies?” Randy asked.
“Chocolate chip.”
“Sure. They’re my favorite!” Randy said.
The following day, Randy and Jim walked home together. Mom was waiting for them.
“Hi, Randy. It’s nice to meet you,” she said.
“Nice to meet you too,” Randy said.
“Come into the kitchen and we’ll get started,” Mom said.
In the kitchen, she pointed to the sink. “Wash first.”
After the boys washed their hands, Jim showed Randy how to measure the ingredients and mix them together.
By the time they spooned the cookie dough onto the baking pan, Randy was smiling. “Can I put them in the oven?” he asked.
“Sure. They need to bake for 12 minutes,” Jim said as he set the timer.
When 12 minutes had passed, Jim carefully removed the pan from the oven. Randy started to reach for a cookie, then stopped. “Can I have one?”
Jim smiled. “Yes. But they need to cool first.”
When the cookies had cooled, Jim and Randy each took two. Mom poured glasses of milk for them.
“These are great!” Randy said after he’d finished both cookies and his glass of milk. “Thanks for inviting me, Jim. Thank you, Mrs. Sheridan.”
Mom placed some cookies on a plate and covered them with foil. “These are for you to take home and share with your family.”
After that, Randy no longer teased Jim. The boys played together after school and on the weekends. Jim was glad a simple act could help him make a new friend.

Lina swung her lunchbox as she walked to the lunchroom. Lunch was the best part of the day. Lina loved sitting with her friends and talking about who said what, who liked who, who got in trouble — there were always fun things to talk about. And today Lina was sure she had the most exciting news. She couldn’t wait to tell her friends.
“Guess what!” she said as soon as she sat down. “Shara Johnson had to go home early today … because she has lice!”
The girls gasped and stared at her.
Trish moaned. “I walked right by her like six times today!” she said. “What if I have lice too?”
“Oh no,” Katy said. “I have to work with her on a science project next week.”
Melissa shuddered. “That is so gross. I don’t think I can be her friend anymore.”
Lina stopped smiling. She squirmed in her seat. She had been excited to share some news, but she didn’t like how they were talking about Shara now. She didn’t want Shara to lose any friends! Getting lice didn’t mean anything bad about Shara; it could have happened to any of them. Lina tried to forget about it and just eat her food, but she just couldn’t.
When the bell rang for them to go back to class, the girls were still talking about Shara. They kept laughing and making faces. Lina felt awful.
Back in class, Mrs. Currier called Lina to her desk.
“Since you’re Shara’s neighbor, would you please take her today’s homework?” Mrs. Currier asked.
Oh no. Lina didn’t want to face Shara. Not after what she’d said. But she nodded and took the worksheets.
On her way home after school, Lina stopped by the Johnsons’ house. She rang the doorbell and hoped that anyone but Shara would open the door.
“Hi, Lina!” It was Shara. She smiled when she saw Lina standing on the porch. “What’s up?”
“I’m just bringing your homework,” Lina said, trying to smile too.
“Thanks!” Shara said. “I was worried I would fall behind after missing today.”
“So you’ll be back tomorrow?” Lina asked.
“Yep! I’ll see you in class.”
“Awesome. See you tomorrow.” Lina smiled the best she could, then walked away. Now she felt even worse. Shara was so nice, and now the girls at school were saying mean things about her. Lina wanted to fix things. But how?
Lina didn’t know what to do, but she knew who could help her. She stopped walking, closed her eyes, and bowed her head.
Heavenly Father, I really messed up today. I gossiped about Shara, and now I feel really bad about it. I am so sorry. I don’t know how to make it right. Please help me fix my mistake.
After Lina finished praying, she felt peaceful. She knew that making things right might be scary, but Heavenly Father would help her.
The next day at lunch, Lina saw her friends at their usual table. As she walked toward them, she said another quick prayer.
Please help me be brave.
“Hey,” Lina said. She didn’t sit down. “I just wanted to say … I wanted to say that I’m sorry I told you Shara had lice. Shara is really nice, and I shouldn’t have said anything. We shouldn’t spread bad news about other people.”
Trish, Katy, and Melissa stared at her. They looked too surprised to say anything. Lina turned away. She felt better for the first time since yesterday! Then she spotted Shara across the lunchroom and waved. Shara waved back, and Lina walked over to sit by her. The warm feeling in her heart told her that she had made the right choice.

I remember the terrifying words of my labor nurse: “I think he has some anomalies.” At the same time, the population in the delivery room escalated to allow for the resuscitation of my severely compromised newborn.
I had lived similar scenes many times before, but from the other side, as a nurse. I was supposed to be the one reviving the newborn. Now I was the mom reaching through an incubator door to touch the hand of my son, while a transport team waited to take him to another hospital.
The next morning I received a telephone call from the newborn intensive care unit (NICU), where my husband, Andrew, sat surrounded by doctors, as they explained the surgery Timothy would immediately require to remove giant abdominal tumors.
I clung to the hope that surgery would cure our child and that he would lead a normal, happy life. I envisioned him as a chubby toddler with a cute scar, a reminder of the short-lived scare he gave his parents.
Three weeks later in that same hospital conference room, a neurologist attempted to explain the brain malformation that would leave our child with significant cognitive delay, speech difficulty, and eventually seizures.
A few days after that, in the same room, the neonatologist said, “I can’t conceive that Timothy will go home without a feeding tube.” Our baby was an emaciated three pounds (1.4 kg) less than at birth, anemic, and virtually unresponsive to stimulation. When offered a bottle, his suck was weak at best, and he choked on its contents.
Expectations for our baby seemed reduced to nothing. My world was crashing down on me. I questioned the Lord’s promise that He will never allow a trial that is beyond one’s capacity to bear. I felt this burden was crushing me physically, mentally, and spiritually. During long daily hours at the hospital, I longed to be with my two older children and to resume our peaceful life. When I was at home, I obsessed over the welfare of my baby and, honestly, what I thought were our newly destroyed lives.
At my lowest point I pleaded with the Lord, letting Him know all the wonderful ways I would serve Him if He would just take Timothy back, let me mourn his loss, and allow me to get on with my life. Anything else was clearly more than I could handle.
While all of this was going on, my own personal miracle was beginning. Many members of our ward, along with several family members and friends, were fasting and praying for our family. One Sunday morning when I woke up, I had a strong impression that something great was going to happen that day as a result of all the fasting and prayers. I was hoping, of course, that Timothy would suddenly become alert and miraculously begin to feed. When I arrived in the NICU, Timothy was as nonresponsive as ever, and he still had no interest in bottle-feeding. Naturally, I was disappointed, but as I held him, an intense feeling came over me that he was going to be OK. I didn’t know what “OK” meant, but I had no doubt the Lord was in charge and was aware of our family.
A few weeks later my mother and I stopped by the hospital. In that quiet, dimly lit room, my mother held my weak little baby to her chest and rocked him as she sang the Christmas lullaby:
Oh, hush thee, my baby; a story I’ll tell,
How little Lord Jesus on earth came to dwell;
How in a far country, ’way over the sea,
Was born a wee baby, my dear one, like thee.
Lullaby baby, lullaby dear.
Sleep, little baby; have nothing to fear.
Lullaby baby, lullaby dear.
Jesus will care for his little one here.1
I knew peace would come through my Savior, who came to this earth to bring peace and eternal happiness for each of us. Surely He would care for this dear little one and lift those of us who were chosen to care for him.
A few weeks later Timothy was transferred to the special-care nursery where I currently work. There he miraculously learned how to eat. And I again experienced an incredible feeling that he would be OK. And although he has improved in so many ways, I still don’t know exactly what that means. But I have had such a comforting presence with me since that time. And whenever I find something that I probably should worry about, that feeling washes over me, and the message is the same: “Don’t worry. Everything is going to be OK. Just enjoy him.”
This Christmas season my thoughts turn to the beautiful gifts the Savior has given us. In so many ways He allows us to have peace here on earth. One of the most wonderful gifts of peace is the opportunity to prayerfully do all we can and then give our sorrows to Him.
By putting our trust in the Lord, we can give our worries to Him, and He in turn will lift us, giving special gifts to sustain us—often through other people. For me these gifts came in the form of babysitters for my two older children, meals from ward members, wonderful nurses and doctors, and loving support from family and friends. The most powerful gift, however, has been the peace granted by Heavenly Father as His Son has carried my sorrows and worries. Because of Him, I am free to love and enjoy baby Timothy and to celebrate all of the people and blessings that have been placed in my path because of his special life.