Gospel Story Finder

My father was the most excited among us to learn and share the truth. He used to wake up early in the morning to study the scriptures for over two hours every day. After work he went with the missionaries to visit our family, friends, and neighbors nearly every day. Seven months after we were baptized, 23 of my family and relatives became members of the Church. That was followed by the miracle of seeing 130 people baptized in the following year through my father’s member missionary work.

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to be disabled? The youth of the Davenport Iowa Stake found out at their last youth conference. They had speakers come to educate them about various types of disabilities and the extra faith they require; then they experienced some disabilities firsthand.
They played wheelchair basketball, volleyball with glasses that severely inhibited their vision, and “Beep ball,” which is like blind-folded baseball played with a ball and bases that give off sound.
Of course the conference also featured a dance, a testimony meeting, meals, and other games, but the understanding they gained of different disabilities left the biggest impression. In fact, 12 participants were so impressed they decided to participate in a local disabled youth camp program.

One day following my shift at the Idaho Falls Idaho Temple, I volunteered to take two brethren to their car, which had stalled on the highway just south of Idaho Falls, Idaho, USA. A kindly couple had stopped during that bitter-cold December day and brought Brother Thompson and Brother Clark the remaining distance to the temple.
Brother Thompson was convinced that his car needed a new battery. I took him to purchase the battery at a nearby automotive shop, and because I had tools in my car, I agreed to change it.
Fortunately I had brought a new pair of gloves and my winter jacket. Pulling the car’s hood up, I prepared to remove the dead battery and replace it with the new one.
To change the battery, I had to disassemble and move several car parts, including the windshield washer reservoir. I soon found that my tools would not fit all of the metric-sized bolts and several screws would not even budge. I used different tools and tried different positions, but nothing moved. The temperature outside was around 5 degrees Fahrenheit (-15°C), and the semitrucks whizzing by created wind gusts that were bitter cold. I had reached a cold, frustrating impasse.
I turned to the only help available. I prayed earnestly, explaining my need to Heavenly Father and asking if He would either loosen the bolts and screws or help me find a way to do it. Finishing my prayer, I again grabbed a pair of pliers and grasped a resisting screw. It was already loose! Silently and fervently expressing thanks, I removed the screw and continued.
Soon I found a frustrating, resisting bolt deeper in the car. Again, completely stymied, I prayed more earnestly for help, doing so with growing trust. This time I felt directed to remove some deeper bolts first and then twist the battery brace, which I did. The resisting bolt moved easily. In a few moments I pulled out the old battery.
I slid the new battery in and with numb fingers reassembled all the parts as best as I could. I then reattached the electrical cables. Brother Thompson turned the key and smiled broadly as the engine started. I gratefully closed the hood. I had been outside for about an hour, and my lower legs and feet were numb as I stiffly stumbled into my car.
I followed Brother Thompson and Brother Clark home to ensure their safe arrival. As I drove, my car’s heater felt lovely, and my legs and feet slowly warmed. I thanked Heavenly Father profusely for His help. In return I was impressed to know that He had answered the prayer of these brethren by sending me as His servant. In His wonderful way He had provided for their need and reaffirmed my faith.

But prestige held no particular appeal for Ezra Taft Benson. He always considered his true career to be serving in whatever way the Lord needed him, his highest honor the privilege of bearing the priesthood of God. He always remembered with special fondness an early calling as Scoutmaster in the Whitney Ward, where he led his troop to win a valleywide contest for boys’ choruses. From that early experience as Scoutmaster blossomed his abiding commitment to Scouting. Later he served on the national advisory council and the executive board of Boy Scouts of America, and he received the three highest national awards in Scouting—the Silver Beaver, the Silver Antelope, and the Silver Buffalo—as well as world Scouting’s Bronze Wolf.

Returning to Whitney years after serving as Scoutmaster, he tried to locate all twenty-four of “his” Scouts. He found many serving as ward and stake leaders but could not account for two. In his later travels, he found those boys, neither of whom had married in the temple. He reestablished friendships and subsequently had the privilege of performing temple sealings for them and their families.

There is a story of a group of Relief Society sisters making candy called “divinity” at the home of one of the sisters. Two little boys in the family were allowed to eat all of the divinity they could scrape from the spoons, pans, and bowls. It was the weekend of general conference and, as the family listened to the talks one of the speakers said, “There is a spark of divinity in each of us.” One of the little boys jumped up and said, “A spark of divinity? Wow, I’m full of it!”

Dean James Lee, Dean of the Faculty of Math & Computing, experienced this very thing.

In 2008, Dean Lee learned of the SAP University Alliances Program, which offered opportunities for students to become SAP certified. SAP is the largest business system in the world. A reported 60,000 companies, including many Fortune 500 companies use this business software program. Students who are trained and certified in SAP have an incredibly competitive advantage when entering the workplace. Because of its global usage, our international students who become certified are able to use this certification in their home countries. Beyond that, the certification gives all our students professional global mobility.

In 2008, BYU–Hawaii did not offer SAP certification. None of the CES institutions did. Many barriers stood in the way of providing such an offering. First, the price tag to hire someone to come to campus and offer the certification is $20,000 a week. This person teaches the course and then administers the certification exam. Alternatively, Dean Lee could learn the program himself, take the exam, and qualify to certify students.

“There were others who would have been more effective than me in implementing the SAP courses because they had real-world experience in it,” Dean Lee said. “All I had to offer was my knowledge that it would help our students and a determination to provide the training for them.” With this knowledge and dedication, Dean Lee undertook the task of becoming certified, and for three years, Dean Lee spent his summers studying the system, building a program, and refining it.

In the summer of 2011, Dean Lee traveled to the mainland to sit for the certification exam. He took it and passed. He returned to campus ready to offer SAP certification to our students.

With no extra compensation for his efforts, Dean Lee offered the training and certification as a summer course. Students enrolled in the program committed to a grueling two-week schedule of eight-hour days of in-class instruction and additional out-of-class group study and individual study. Every day, beginning at 8:00 am, Dean Lee and the students would open the class with prayer. “We would call down the powers of heaven,” Dean Lee said. “We knew that we needed divine assistance.” Dean Lee would then teach and mentor, and students would learn and work together. The schedule was demanding and exhausting as students learned this highly technical and complicated material. Mind you, this is a professional certification course, not a student certification course. For some students, having this certification has meant an increase of $10,000 in their starting pay when they entered the work field.

The summer of 2012 was the first group to take Dean Lee’s SAP certification course. It is of note that our own accounting professor, Tialei Scanlan, was among that first class of 24 students. She names her SAP-TERP10 certification as one of her distinguishing accomplishments.

Donating time, preparing lunches, and giving so much heart, Dean Lee has taught this course every summer since 2012. There have been summers in which the demand for the course was so great, Dean Lee has needed to offer two sessions. That means he has given four weeks of his summer to bless the lives of students.

This has continued for nearly ten years. To date, over 500 students have completed SAP-related courses. 350 students have participated in the summer certification course and sat for the exam. 309 BYU–Hawaii students have passed the SAP certification exam– an amazing feat by any measure, but even more remarkable when you consider that about 80% of those students are non-native English speakers. That means that our students are taking a highly technical exam in English and passing it at higher-than-national average rates.

BYU–Hawaii is still the only CES institution to offer SAP certification.

All because Dean Lee answered the call. “Teach us. We need this course. We need someone who will sacrifice, who will offer us this opportunity that will change our lives and afford us incredible employment opportunities.” Not feeling the most qualified for it, Dean Lee set aside his own self-doubt. Intending only to serve the Lord and help our students, Dean Lee answered: "Koau ‘eni. It's me. I'm here. I'll teach."

While living in Salt Lake City in 1978, my wife, Linda, and I attended a reunion of returned missionaries. At one point, one of the former missionaries enthusiastically reported that his family had been rising early each morning to read the scriptures.
I had heard about people like that. It was all I could do to read the scriptures myself on a regular basis, let alone get the entire family our of bed early each day to read a few verses.
However, Linda and I knew it was something we should do. We realized that such a habit, formed when our family was young, could provide a great foundation for our children.
A few mornings later and a few minutes earlier than usual, we gathered the family to begin reading the Book of Mormon.
We chose the Book of Mormon because of its wonderful stories and plain presentation of gospel principles. It was also the only one of the standard works for which we had a large-type edition for the children. Angela was six years old, Jamie was three, and Dallas was newly born. At first, Jamie and Dallas had poor attendance, but Angela zealously showed up each morning.
About ninety seconds into our first morning, a few things became obvious: We were not going to finish for a very long time. Second, too much reading at one time would make this project miserable for all of us. And third, the children’s joy would come as much from reading to Mom and Dad as from the messages they learned from the Book of Mormon.
Keeping these things in mind, we decided to read one column of one page each day. We would each take a verse, in order, and read it aloud. For Angela, whose reading skills were limited, it usually meant that Linda or I would say one or two words and she would repeat them.
Discussions were prompted by questions from the children or the need for emphasis from Mom and Dad. Many times a short introduction to what was ahead made the reading more exciting. When a great prophet died, we felt sad and talked about it. When we came to a favorite story or favorite prophet, we mentioned it.
From the first, we recognized that reaching the book’s final verse wasn’t the point; the fun was in getting there. We soon lost any feeling of desire to get the book read in a hurry. If it took five years, so what? If the children, or even Mom and Dad, seemed to tire or become distracted, we would not read as much. We could always pick up the next day where we had left off.
We ended each session on our knees in family prayer.
As the weeks became months and the months became years, a miracle unfolded. We saw our children learning to read. Better yet, we saw them becoming acquainted with the prophets, stories, and teachings of the Book of Mormon.
As our family grew older, our children slowly mastered the text. They needed less and less help pronouncing words and names, and they rarely missed a word like Lamanite, even though they sometimes needed help with more common words. That large-type edition was soon passed from Angela to Jamie, from Jamie to Dallas, and then to our latest child, Jill. As the older children received their own copies of the Book of Mormon, their satisfaction grew even greater.
Along the way there were many triumphs. Whenever a child was able to read a whole verse without assistance, the family rewarded the effort with a spontaneous cheer. When we read 3 Nephi, we all sensed a special spirit. The children felt the importance of the verses. We read some of the passages more than once, pausing for discussion. As we read of the Lord’s love for the children and how he blessed them, our children felt that the Book of Mormon was written just for them.
We also had our setbacks. Summer was a hard time for our reading program. While the children had their school holiday, they had no need to get up as early as I did, and we missed many days during these summer months. Still, we had no trouble starting again once school started.
The greatest challenge came in 1983, when we moved. We lived outside of a city, and I commuted an hour each way to work. This meant that I had to leave home every morning before the children woke up.
We solved the problem by switching our scripture reading to evenings, just before bedtime. Reading then required much more discipline. Busy schedules, homework, television, and even Church activities competed for our time. But after a few weeks the routine was established, and we continued on our way.
About half-way through the Book of Mormon, it became obvious that we need to “quicken our pace and lengthen our stride” if the children were to have the Book of Mormon read before they left home for college, marriage, or missions. We had long since progressed to reading both columns on a page. Now we started reading two pages a night. By October 1986 we set a goal. We would have the book finished by Christmas!
It was a special night when we read the last page. We planned it so that Jill, who was five, could read the last verse. We didn’t say much, but the prayer that night was one of special thanks for our eight-year journey through the Book of Mormon.
We thought of having a celebration, but in the end we realized that this was only the end of the Book of Mormon part of our effort; it was not the end of our daily scripture reading. So we celebrated by going to the store for ice cream. Our real reward was the quiet satisfaction we each felt. We had read the Book of Mormon, and we had done it together.
We are convinced that the Lord provided a special blessing for our children. They have all learned to be fine readers. The have also learned to love the Book of Mormon. Above all, we are bound together by the knowledge that we have obey the prophet, by the strength we gained from the counsel in the Book of Mormon, and by the love we developed during those minutes every day when each child was the focus of attention and nothing else really mattered.

Brenna Reaney is just one of the Young Women in the Redondo First Ward, Torrance California Stake, who donated hair. For Brenna, the sacrifice of her long hair represented something concrete she could do to help Jessica James, one of her friends from the ward. Jessica, 17, had been diagnosed with aplastic anemia, a life threatening illness that would require chemotherapy treatment. At first, the girls were upset that Jessica would lose her beautiful long hair. But after Jessica had a brain hemorrhage and sank into a coma, they quickly realized that they had not understood the full spectrum of what was important. As Peggy Kirts, a member of the ward, said, “It’s been a very helpless couple of months, with everyone wanting to help and not really knowing what to do or how to do it.”
The girls would visit Jessica in the hospital as she struggled to awaken from the coma and learn again to communicate. While there, they saw many little bald children in the same area of the hospital undergoing treatment. They read to Jessica and sat with her, but they felt that they wanted to do more.
Sister Kirts, a professional hairdresser, met a family who had come to her salon for haircuts. They were donating their hair as their family’s Christmas project. From them she got the information about donating hair and did a little research. A minimum of 10 inches of hair was needed, bound in a ponytail. Especially needed was fine, light colored hair that would be more appropriate for children’s wigs.
With some hesitation, Sister Kirts presented the idea to the girls in her ward. It wouldn’t help Jessica directly, but the donation of their hair would help other girls and boys. At first, the thought was stunning. Ten inches! That was so much. “They were petrified at first,” said Sister Kirts. “I didn’t want to pressure them. But later that day, the phone just started ringing. And, one at a time, the girls called and said, ‘I’m in.’ I couldn’t believe that they would do it.”
The word spread through the ward. Even two little girls from Primary joined the Young Women in donating their hair. The local newspaper and a television station covered the event because so many girls were donating their hair at the same time. And at Christmastime, people could not help but compare this event to O. Henry’s story “Gift of the Magi,” about a young couple who each gives up the thing they value most to buy a gift for the other. In the story, the young wife sells her long hair to buy a chain for her husband’s heirloom watch. He, in turn, sells the watch to buy combs for his wife’s beautiful hair.
After the young women’s story aired on the news and was printed in the newspaper, the salon offered to cut the hair of anyone who wanted to donate it. Dozens of people responded. “Teenagers have so much power for good or for bad,” said Sister Kirts. “For these people who came to donate their hair, their biggest reason was that if an 18-year-old girl can do this, I can too.”
Rachael Ward, another of the Young Women in the Redondo First Ward, was a little frightened to go back to school after Christmas vacation with her new short hair. “It was awful waiting for that day. Everyone noticed my hair, even people I didn’t know before. A lot of people looked at me differently. They said it made them realize that people really do good deeds for each other. It’s not just a story on television. That made me feel good.”
Rachael’s friend Brittanie Streetmaker also donated her hair. “I was nervous, but now whenever I look in the mirror, I think of a little girl who will be so happy to have a cute styled wig. My friends ask me if I miss my hair, and I say I do, but I don’t regret it for a second.”
Editor’s note: Jessica is home from the hospital. She still suffers from partial paralysis and is continuing treatment for aplastic anemia. She loves the way the girls sacrificed to help others.

This was my first year at a new high school. I thought I’d been getting along all right, making friends and fitting in. Then one day in history class I overheard a group of people talking—right in front of me—about something they were going to do. They were talking about going to an activity that all the Mormons wouldn’t be able to come to because it was on a Sunday and because of the things they were going to be doing. I was friends with them, but they didn’t invite me.
It got me thinking. At first I was hurt that I wasn’t even considered to be part of the group, but then I thought about it. Did I really want to be invited when they would be doing something “Mormons” wouldn’t do? And after thinking about it for a bit more, I decided they unintentionally gave me a compliment. I’ve been living my life in such a way that I’m an example, and they knew—without my verbalizing it—what I stood for.

Gabriel heard his younger brother moan for what seemed like the hundredth time. He looked toward Tyler’s bed, trying to see through the darkness. Gabriel was tired. His baseball team was having its championship game tomorrow morning, and he had to get some sleep.
“Tyler, can’t you stop moaning?” Gabriel asked.
Tyler moaned again. “I can’t help it. My stomach hurts.”
Gabriel turned on the light next to his bed. “I told you not to eat that second hot dog at dinner, especially not with all that chili on it.”
“But it tasted good!” Tyler said. Then he moaned again.
“Are you going to do that all night?” Gabriel asked. “I’ve got a big game tomorrow, and I need some sleep.”
“But my stomach hurts!” Tyler said.
“OK,” Gabriel said. “I’ll get Mom and Dad.”
Gabriel went to his parents’ room and told them that Tyler had a stomachache and he was moaning something awful.
“I can’t get any sleep,” Gabriel said as they walked back to the boys’ room. “I have an important game in the morning.”
“I’m sure Tyler isn’t trying to keep you awake on purpose,” Dad said. “Having a stomachache can be painful.”
Gabriel sighed. Didn’t anyone understand how important this game was? His team had worked all year to make it to the championship. He couldn’t let the other players down.
“Do you have a stomachache, Tyler?” Mom asked as she sat down on his bed.
“I ate too many hot dogs!” Tyler said.
“I can give you a blessing if you’d like,” Dad said.
Tyler nodded. Gabriel waited until the blessing was done and then asked if he could sleep in the living room. After all, Tyler might be up all night.
Gabriel went and settled down on the sofa, but he found he couldn’t go to sleep. He began thinking about how Mom and Dad cared for him when he didn’t feel well. He remembered how much he needed their help. He thought Tyler probably felt that way right now.
Gabriel silently prayed to know how to help his brother. Then he went back to the bedroom.
Tyler opened his eyes when Gabriel walked in. “What’s going on?” he whispered.
“I just wanted you to know I’m sorry,” Gabriel said. “I didn’t mean to care more about a baseball game than about you. You can make all the noise you need to make. I’ll stay right here with you.”
“I feel better now,” Tyler said. “The blessing helped.”
“Maybe you’ll feel good enough to come to the game tomorrow,” Gabriel said.
Tyler nodded. Then he smiled and said, “But I don’t think I’ll eat any hot dogs!”
Gabriel smiled too. “Sounds like a good idea.”

At Lier the girls put on an evening program about every two weeks. “It is sort of like a home evening program,” says Bonnie. “We were all kind of like a big family at school. The different groups would take turns giving the program—one time it would be the girls doing the cooking, and the next time those doing the washing. The time my group gave it, they told me to come up with an original idea. I called the mission president and he sent up a projector and the film Man’s Search for Happiness in Norwegian.
When asked if she would share some recipes and cleaning tips with New Era readers, Bonnie gladly complied.
1. “There were very few carpets or rugs at Lier, and most of the floors were made out of beautiful hardwood. Because they looked so perfect all the time, visitors thought we spent hours on them. I guess we did, but we never spent too long at one time. They were washed each day with a rag attached to the end of a long-handled, rubber squeegee and hot soapy water. We rarely had to get down on our hands and knees with a brush and a bucket because the floors never had a chance to accumulate any real dirt. Periodically (about once per week) the floors were waxed with paste wax and then rubbed with dry, clean rags until they shone.”
2. “When making bread and kneading it, you usually leave flour and dough all over the drainboard or table. If you want to clean this off easily without having your washcloth get all doughy and sticky, just sprinkle some ordinary table salt on the surface before wiping it off. The dough will rub off easily and your washcloth will quickly rinse out.”
3. “The difference between how absolutely clean everything was at Lier and how semi-straightened things are in most American homes is not the result of using any special product or particular brand of soap. The difference is made by the amount of elbow grease you cheerfully apply to each task. Extra pains taken give instant results.”
4. “We used a weak vinegar and water solution when cleaning windows, and it worked just as well as any expensive window spray I’ve ever tried.”
5. “Organization is very important in running a home. At school certain things had to be done at certain times. Big cleaning projects were alternated with minor ones during the week to give some variety. But what I really liked was never having to do a major spring cleaning. Since we’d do several major projects per week, we thoroughly cleaned the school a couple of times a year. The only time we had to do the whole thing at once was when the term ended and we had to leave the school to the next group of girls.
“Working hard to make a home clean and pleasant and to prepare regular, wholesome meals for the people you care most about brings a great deal of enjoyment and fulfillment. When I arrived at my home in Midway, I greeted my mother with ‘Hello, I’m your new housemaid. I hope we work well together.’ Even so, working at home has seemed like a vacation after the tight schedule at Lier.”
6. “We were taught that to keep your home at its best certain things needed to be done daily. They were washing the clothes, cleaning the bathrooms, dusting and polishing the furniture, washing the floors, cooking meals, and caring for the animals. There were other things we had to do, of course, but not every day.”
7. “When we did the laundry we would soak it overnight and remove all spots before putting it in the washing machine.”
8. “We worked hard at keeping the kitchen looking neat even when we were cooking. We would take out a tray or a plate, and the utensils, knives, etc., that we used while cooking would be placed on the tray when not in use. Afterwards the tray needed to be washed, but the drainboards were much easier to wipe off.”
9. “Lier was originally a cooking school, and how to prepare, serve, and store food is still one of the most important things learned there. We learned to cook for small groups and large groups. When visitors came, we really put on a show. I remember once having to help prepare a banquet for more than two hundred. Cleaning up afterwards was the worst part. We were washing dishes until after midnight.
“I brought home with me many delicious recipes. Norwegian food is beautifully prepared and very healthful. It is quite plain in nature when compared to the elaborate French or the spicy Chinese cuisine. Norwegians eat quite a bit of fish, potatoes, and bread. They seldom eat meat or chicken since they are very expensive. Here is one of the best fish recipes I learned to prepare at school. Although it is difficult to find the same variety of fish as in Norway, we can substitute.”
Fiskegryte (one-pot fish dinner)
3 leeks
3 carrots
1 small celery root
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 pounds fish filet (red snapper or other white fish)
4 tablespoons butter
3 tablespoons tomato puree
Chopped fresh parsley
Chop up the leeks, carrots, and celery root and place with salt in a pan. Add enough water to cover the vegetables and cook until partially done. Roll the fish in flour with salt and pepper added and place on top of the partially cooked vegetables. Put the butter and tomato puree on top of the fish, cover the pan tightly, and let cook until the fish is done. Chop fresh parsley to garnish the finished dish.
“Here are two more recipes I really like. One is for a sort of rice porridge, and the other is a dessert made from leftover rice.”
Risengrynsgrøt (rice porridge)
3 cups water
2 cups long-grain white rice
2 quarts cooked milk
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
Sugar
Cinnamon
Pats of butter or margarine
Bring the water to a boil. Add rice, cover, and let cook for about 20 minutes. Add cooked milk and salt and let cook until rice is done and the mixture has thickened like porridge. Stir often. Serve hot with sugar, cinnamon, and margarine on top.
Riskrem (rice and cream dessert)
2 quarts leftover rice
6 tablespoons sugar
10 drops vanilla or other preferred flavoring
Slivered almonds
1 pint whipping cream
Heat the rice and sweeten to taste. Cook it until all the liquid is absorbed. Add the flavoring and the slivered almonds. Cool. Whip the cream and fold into rice. Serve at room temperature with fruit sauce.
Rød saus (red fruit sauce)
1 quart fruit juice concentrate (strawberry, raspberry, or boysenberry)
Sugar
3 tablespoons cornstarch
Put the juice, sweetened to taste, in a sauce pan. Add the cornstarch and cook until the juice thickens. Add a little water if necessary to make the sauce consistency right. Serve in a small pitcher beside the riskrem so each guest can pour the desired amount on his serving of dessert.
Reminiscing about Lier and her experiences there almost makes Bonnie homesick for the scrub brushes and her many friends. “I learned some really great things at Lier—I certainly learned endurance—but the most wonderful thing about it was the people. They really care about you. At Easter I was allowed to fly home to the United States to visit my family. All of the girls and the teachers were up at 6:00 to see me off. And they had made me piles of delicious sandwiches because they were afraid I’d get hungry on the long trip home.”
Attending the Husmorskole was a great opportunity for Bonnie Shand, and she feels more girls ought to be taught to take pride in their housewifely skills. She was asked to speak on the graduation program at the end of her six-month course and was given a beautiful Norwegian doll by her classmates “so you’ll never forget us.” It’s not likely that she ever will.

In 1895 my great-grandfather, Abinadi Olsen, was called on a mission to the Samoan Islands. Obedient to the call of the prophet, he left his wife and four small children, including my maternal grandmother, Chasty Magdalene, in the town of Castle Dale, Utah. He traveled by train and ship to the mission headquarters in Apia, a journey of 26 days. His first assignment was to labor on the island of Tutuila.

After many weeks of living in what he called a grass hut, eating strange food, suffering severe illnesses, and struggling to learn the Samoan language, he seemed to be making no progress in his missionary work. Homesick and discouraged, he seriously considered boarding a boat back to Apia and telling the mission president he didn’t want to waste any more time in Samoa. The obstacles to the accomplishment of his mission seemed insurmountable, and he wished to return to his wife and children, who were struggling to support him in the mission field.

A friend who heard Abinadi Olsen describe the experience some years after his return, quoted him as follows:
“Then one night, as I lay on my mat on the floor of my hut, a strange man entered, and in my own language told me to get up and follow him. His manner was such that I had to obey. He led me through the village and directly against the face of a perpendicular solid-rock cliff. That’s strange, thought I. I’ve never seen that here before, and just then the stranger said, ‘I want you to climb that cliff.’
“I took another look and then in bewilderment said, ‘I can’t. It’s impossible!’
“‘How do you know you can’t? You haven’t tried,’ said my guide.
“‘But anyone can see’—I started to say in objection. But he cut in with, ‘Begin climbing. Reach up with your hand—now with your foot.’
“As I reached, under orders that I dared not disobey, a niche seemed to open in the solid-rock cliff and I caught hold. Then with my one foot I caught a toehold.
“‘Now go ahead,’ he ordered. ‘Reach with your other hand,’ and as I did so another place opened up, and to my surprise the cliff began to recede; climbing became easier, and I continued the ascent without difficulty until, suddenly, I found myself lying on my pallet back in my hut. The stranger was gone!
“Why has this experience come to me? I asked myself. The answer came quickly. I had been up against an imaginary cliff for those three months. I had not reached out my hand to begin the climb. I hadn’t really made the effort I should have made to learn the language and surmount my other problems” (Improvement Era, Aug. 1957, 554).

It is hardly necessary to add that Abinadi Olsen did not leave the mission. He labored for three and a half years, until released by appropriate authority. He was an exceptionally effective missionary, and he was a faithful member of the Church for the rest of his life.

In Brazil, we were recently introduced to a local archivist. He was not particularly friendly towards the Church or to FamilySearch, but we invited him to come to the open house for the new temple in Salvador, Brazil. While in the temple, he had many questions and felt something in his heart. He is of African descent, so after the temple open house, we began to discuss how we could work together to connect African Brazilians to their ancestors using our African oral genealogy records.

“Get up, Kevin.”
I looked over to the other side of the room at my brother’s bed. He lay asleep, curled up tightly in the blankets against the cold. This morning ritual began a year ago when Dad had traded half the rabbits, complete with cages, for a milk goat named Colleen. It was my job to milk her while Kevin fed her and cleaned out her cage.
“What time is it?” Kevin asked as he got up and dressed, noticing the light filtering into the room.
“It’s six-thirty.” I was fully clothed and standing by my dresser, putting on my coat and knit cap. The coat smelled of alfalfa hay and dried milk.
“Hi, Mom,” we said in unison as we walked downstairs. I opened the back door, grabbing the clean steel milking pail on our way out. As we walked toward the barn, we noticed that water from the lake had vaporized into a thin fog that drifted across the nearby horse pastures. The ground, just beginning to thaw, felt like thick peanut butter on our boots.
“Kevin, what do you want for your birthday?” I asked. For the past two days I had been trying to think of what to get my seven-year-old brother. I didn’t have any money to buy a present, and there was no snow to shovel to earn a few dollars, either.
“I don’t know,” Kevin said as he scooped up some alfalfa pellets with a cut-out bleach bottle and poured them into a container by Colleen’s milking stand. “Why don’t you do my chores for me tomorrow morning?” He was referring to a tradition in our family—if it was your birthday, other members of the family did your chores for you.
“OK.” But I wanted to get him something else, something more than what was done traditionally.
“Tim and Kevin,” Dad called, “it’s time for breakfast.”
After leading Colleen back to her pen, we carried the milk into the house and placed it on the counter, then sat down to eat. The steaming cereal, cooled by yesterday’s milk, tasted sweet because of the addition of honey and raisins.
“Time for school,” Mom said when we had finished eating. After grabbing our schoolbooks, we returned to the living room for family prayer, then left for school.
Kevin’s elementary school was just under two miles away, while I only had to walk a half-mile to the middle school. Each day Kevin silently wished we lived a quarter mile to the south, making him eligible to ride the school bus that picked up many of his classmates. On most mornings, we witnessed them entering the bus at the beginning of its route. Kevin would stop, watch for a moment, then continue walking, most of the time arriving at his school long after the bus had dropped off its passengers. It was a cruel part of his day, especially on snowy or really cold winter mornings.
“See you later,” I said, watching him walk away when we reached my school.
All day I thought more about his birthday. I remembered last summer, when he had weeded all of the neighbor’s vegetable garden to earn money to buy me a present. It was a small, single-bladed pocketknife he had bought secondhand at a thrift store. He had removed the rust with steel wool, then shined the blade and the handle with silver polish.
That night when I said my prayers, I asked Heavenly Father to help me find Kevin a gift.
After a fitful sleep, I awoke before the morning light had entered our bedroom. I dressed quietly in the darkness and glanced over to see Kevin wrapped in his blankets. I tiptoed downstairs and outside.
The landscape had changed from the morning before. A snowstorm had arrived, and the snow blew around me. A little blew into the house before I could close the door. I hurried to the barn, wanting to complete the morning chores quickly.
Just as I finished, I noticed something tucked into a corner of the barn. I hadn’t seen it since the summer before, and it gave me an idea for Kevin’s birthday.
I quickly ran back to the house to drop off the milk, grabbed a bucket of warm, soapy water and some old rags and carried them out to the barn. The dust of a winter and the rust from the dampness made cleaning difficult, but I kept working. Finally the call for breakfast came.
The smell of bacon and pancakes, food reserved for Sundays before church and other special days, met me at the door. We sat and ate, Kevin happy because of his seventh birthday, and me nervous, hoping he would like my present for him.
“Time for school,” Mom said as Kevin finished the last pancake. After family prayer, we went out into the gray snowstorm.
“Kevin, I have a present for you. It’s in the barn.” He followed me around the house and into the barn.
There stood our old red wagon, washed clean, then polished with car wax I had found on a shelf above the alfalfa pellets. A small wool blanket covered the bottom, and on the side of the wagon I had carefully painted “School Bus” with some old house paint.
“Get in, Kevin. You don’t have to walk to school today. This is your bus.”
His face lit up, and he scrambled in. I put another blanket around him so he would keep warm.
I pulled the wagon out of the barn, past the house, and onto the snow-packed road. Mom and Dad stood on the porch, watching the delight on Kevin’s face.
“Everyone off!” I yelled as we pulled onto the sidewalk just in front of the entrance to Kevin’s school. I tried to sound like a bus driver, and he laughed with me at my attempt. I hurried back down the road with the wagon, and once I arrived at my own school, I hid it in some bushes.
When the final bell rang, I ran outside, rescued the wagon from the bushes, and hurried back to the elementary school.
I arrived just after the bell rang, and saw Kevin with two excited friends. “Tim, can they come with us?”
“Sure,” I said. “Everybody ‘booooard,” I yelled like a bus driver. Kevin climbed in first; the other two squeezed in behind him.
By the time I pulled the wagon to the second boy’s home, I was really tired.
“Tim, I’ll pull you the rest of the way home,” Kevin offered.
“No, it’s your birthday. I want to do this.” That night as I got into bed, I felt too tired to pray. I couldn’t remember a time when I’d been more tired. My legs and back ached, and my hands were sore and blistered from gripping the wagon handle. I lay in the darkness, thinking about the presents Kevin had received from Mom and Dad, Grandma and Grandpa, and me. Just before I drifted off to sleep, I heard “Tim?”
“Yeah.”
“Out of all the presents I got today, yours was the best.”
“Thanks,” I said. Then I remembered my prayer from the night before. I crawled out of bed, knelt on the cold wood floor, and thanked Heavenly Father for helping me find my brother a birthday gift.

The most unique answer you have to give is your testimony about an issue. When you know a thing, say, “I know,” not necessarily, “I bear you my testimony,” though that has its place. And never say, “I know,” unless you do. When you speak the truth, the Holy Ghost will confirm your words to those who are pure in heart. Then they will feel the truth as well as hear it. This is such a sweet, lifting, convincing experience. Once, on our mission, we were teaching a wonderful, young family. We were giving the lesson that explains the mission of the Savior. I always loved to give that lesson because the Spirit was usually strong in verifying our testimonies.

The young father asked at the beginning, “How can we know that what you’re telling us is true? It all sounds so good, but how can we be sure?” We explained, as best we could, how the witness of the Holy Ghost feels—a burning in the bosom, a peaceful, right feeling; an ‘aha’ experience, like “I-seem-to-have-known-that-all-along.” Then we proceeded to teach of the Savior’s mission and its application in our lives.

When it came my turn to tell them how I felt about Jesus, the Spirit was strong and unmistakable. I could see that they felt it, too. I realized then, and have known ever since, that such a witness is essential to bring complete understanding. No amount of logical argument can equal that beautiful moment of recognition that the Spirit alone can bring.

In 1959 I received that invitation. I did not even know of this, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. At a dance I met a young lady who was raised in the gospel. I was attracted to her. She said to me, “You know, I could never consider marrying you unless it were in the temple.” I responded to that invitation and was taught the gospel. She is now my eternal companion. I will ever be grateful that was the invitation she extended to me, for it has transformed my life.

One of the challenges I have been blessed with (ah, perspective) are chronic migraines. One morning I woke up with one and I knew that day I had to go to work, because I had signed up for a workshop in which tithing funds had been used for me to attend. So I took some medicine, said a prayer, and went. That day we learned about strengths and how we all have been anointed with strengths by our Heavenly Father. We learned that those strengths we have are unique to us. When we use our strengths for good, we can be better used as a tool by which we were designed.

Perceptions of others in my eyes were also changed. One of the things that had the biggest impact on me that day was when she talked to us about toxic conversations. She taught us that when we are frustrated with someone it's because they have strengths that are not connecting with our strength. When this happens we need to stop and look out (see it through their lens), and then look up. Turn to your Heavenly Father realizing that those same strengths that seem to be frustrating us are the same strengths that our Heavenly Father possesses. Perspective.

Now, can we see them and the conversation in a different way? When we look at those experiences in that way can we put our own perceptions away and listen, observe, and learn from them? Can we just try to see them through our Heavenly Fathers eyes?

When I think of what I could have missed that day if I would have let my challenge get in my way. I would be different, even this talk written today would be different. That day I gained knowledge, understanding, and learning through my observations and being actively engaged. I have been able to use those things I learned in just that one day in all areas of my life.

Heavenly Father has sent us all here to be His tools and His hands. It is up to us to do our part to be allowed to be molded to become and reach our full potential. Sometimes our part is just having the courage to say or do something when moved upon by the Spirit without knowing why. By having trust in the Lord and the Holy Ghost, knowing there is a greater plan (and that His plan is a better one) we can help others succeed and get closer to our Heavenly Father's eternal perspective and our potential. That day my life was molded in a way I was not expecting and with that touch in my life I have been able to take what I learned to help others see maybe what they had not seen before.

Let me cite an example of the overuse and misuse of prescription drugs and other remedies commonly found in the home. This shows how substances many of us do not consider drugs can seriously interfere with the management of an illness. A hospitalized patient with Parkinson’s disease was carefully medicated with a relatively new drug for this disorder called Levodopa. He responded beautifully; his muscle rigidity was decreased, muscle movement improved, and even the tremors characteristic of this disease were minimal. After his drug dosage was carefully adjusted, he returned home. As the fall season approached, he decided he needed building up, so he purchased a multiple vitamin product from the local drug store. Shortly thereafter the muscle rigidity worsened, muscle movement was more limited, and the tremors returned; he was taken back to the hospital. What happened? The multiple vitamin product he had purchased contained vitamin B6 (pyridoxine), which had increased the metabolism of the Levodopa and reduced its concentration in the blood below that required to control the symptoms of his disease. Consequently he had a relapse and the symptoms of the disease returned. This illustrates how somewhat innocently one can disrupt a carefully planned treatment regimen by the use of another drug.

Looks good! Are you ready for your book report tomorrow?
I don’t know. I get nervous when I have to talk in front of people.
You’ll do great! You’ve prepared and worked hard. Let’s pray to help you feel calm.
The next day …
Great work, Paolo! I made your favorite treat.
But I did terrible! I dropped my poster and messed up all my words.
You did your best. That’s something to celebrate. Come tell us what you learned!
Great job! We’re so proud of you.
Now I want to read that book too!
Illustrations by Katie McDee

Every December since I can remember my family has bought a nativity set, and every year we give it away. As a family we decide who we will give it to. Usually we choose someone in our ward or neighborhood who does not have family in the area, or someone who may feel lonely over the Christmas season.
Twelve days before Christmas we begin delivering our gifts. Each night we secretly deliver one piece of the nativity set with a poem attached, starting with the camel. On Christmas Eve, we deliver the baby Jesus. We do not run and hide when we deliver this last gift as we do with the others. Instead we deliver this last piece with some goodies in person.
The best Christmas gift I get every year is seeing the happiness of the people when we give them the baby Jesus—the piece to complete their set. I always get a wonderful feeling inside when I deliver the nativity set with my family. I know the Lord is pleased with what I am doing.
My brother is on a mission right now, and last Christmas we sent him a nativity set so he could carry on the tradition even while he was serving. I really enjoy this family tradition. It is something that I plan to continue when I get married. I thank my parents for starting this tradition that helps us focus on the Savior and His birth.