Gospel Story Finder

“This year was a really hard year for me. Pretty much all of my waking hours were taken up with my schoolwork, upcoming piano exam, and seminary homework and reading assignments. It was hard to cope with, and I struggled and cried a lot in the beginning. I also fasted and prayed a lot for the Lord’s strength to help me cope and to be cheerful while I did.

“Then, in general conference, I was deeply touched by President Nelson’s talk—it was as if he was speaking directly to me. It gave me so much courage to hold on to my faith and endure to the end. When my school finals ended a few weeks later, it was tempting to dedicate all my time to practicing music for my piano exam, but I remembered what President Nelson said about how focusing on Christ will bring you joy, and I chose to work on finishing my seminary work first. After that, I focused on my music and took my piano exam.

“In the end, I passed everything! I did well in my schoolwork, in seminary, and on my music exam. Most important, my faith in the Lord was strengthened, because during the struggle I was able to feel joyful. And now I feel joyful because I endured it well.”

Victoria H., 16, Selangor, Malaysia

It took me seven years to qualify to serve a full-time mission. When I first spoke with my bishop, Bishop Tapueluelu, about it, he gave me some guidelines to strive to live by. He said if I followed them and learned to be obedient, I would be blessed. The first few guidelines—daily scripture study and weekly church attendance—were pretty doable. “This is easy,” I thought. But I got offended when I was told to change certain “worldly” things in my life, and my pride and stubbornness got the best of me.
Hoping for an easier way out, I moved to four different wards and spoke with four different bishops. I even went back to school to pursue a medical degree. Then I felt prompted to drop everything and prepare once again to serve a mission. So I did. I went back to Bishop Tapueluelu and humbly asked for his help. I was told that there was a weight requirement for missionaries—and I realized that I weighed over the limit. Immediately, feelings of discouragement and embarrassment cluttered my mind, but my bishop encouraged me. He expressed his love and faith in me and said, “My door is always open. We can work on it together! One weakness, one week at a time.”
So I visited with my bishop every week, working out one weakness at a time. I had no idea that I’d have to wait another four years, just trying to qualify to serve a mission.
During those years, I strived to come closer to Christ and apply His teachings in my life. As challenges came, His Atonement became real to me. I relied on the power, comfort, and strength He gave me through His Atonement when my best friend passed away, when our family lost our home, and when I got into a car accident. When circumstances caused me to lose many of my friends, I fell into depression, but the Savior pulled me out. My Friday nights with friends were replaced with working out at the gym and studying about the Atonement of Jesus Christ.
I prayed every night for the people whom I would one day serve and even for my future companions!
I eventually qualified and was called to serve in the New Zealand Auckland Mission, Tongan-speaking.
When I entered the missionary training center, I realized that there was more to learn about Jesus Christ and His Atonement and myself. Even though I’m of Tongan descent, I had never been to the South Pacific islands, and I struggled with the Tongan language. When I got to New Zealand, I had no idea what people were saying to me in Tongan. I had so much to say, but because I couldn’t speak the language, my words were few, simple, and broken. I nodded my head when people asked me questions. They laughed at me, and I laughed with them, but behind closed doors the laughter turned into tears of frustration and discouragement. I thought to myself, “I worked seven years to come out here for this?”
So I prayed to Heavenly Father. In Ether 12:27 we learn that our weaknesses can become strengths if we trust in Him. I told Him about my weaknesses and my trust in Him, and I got back up again … and again … and again. I started to rely even more on Christ and also on my strengths.
I love this gospel and I love street art, so I decided to combine the two. I packed my scriptures, a sketchbook, charcoal pencils, permanent markers, and cans of spray paint in my backpack. My companions laughed and asked, “What are you doing with spray paint?” I explained, “I may not speak the language yet, but I can show others my testimony.”
For the remainder of my mission, I used street art—on paper, not on buildings—and the Spirit to teach others about Christ. And as crazy as it sounds, it worked. Many people didn’t want to hear my message, so I sketched it. Doors and eyes opened when I told them that I did graffiti. They didn’t believe me. They timed me for three minutes, and I sketched the word faith while teaching them about it. Among them were many who felt judged and unloved. I could testify that with faith in Christ we can feel of His love and forgiveness, and He can help us change for the better. He did for me.
Seven years of preparation for my mission helped me find myself. That time allowed me to gain a testimony of Christ’s Atonement and His power to help me overcome my weaknesses and use my strengths to share what I knew with others. In the end it was worth the seven years.

Tears filled my eyes as I ran down the steps of the ballet studio. I had just told my teacher that I would not be in the Cinderella production because of our upcoming family vacation. My teacher told me that if I wasn’t in the Cinderella production it might ruin my chances of being in the Nutcracker, the production that followed.
I was so discouraged when I got home that I went straight to my room and cried. I thought about ballet and all that it meant to me, but I considered quitting because of the many long hours and dedication it required. Then I started thinking about a recent Sunday School lesson. The teacher encouraged us to go to the scriptures when we are in need of comfort. So I got out my triple combination and looked in the index for gospel themes I thought could be related to ballet. “Talent” seemed to stand out the most. I looked up Doctrine and Covenants 82:3, which says: “For of him unto whom much is given much is required.” [D&C 82:3]
After thinking about the meaning of those words, I decided to continue to dedicate time to ballet. I felt comforted, for I knew I had made the right decision.
The following morning I called my ballet teacher and asked if I could still be in the Cinderella production. He said I could, even though I would miss a few rehearsals during my family vacation.
At age 13, I have learned that the scriptures really can help when you seek comfort.

Bermi was a teenager taking the missionary discussions in Colombia. His sister was already a member of the Church, and he knew the discussions almost as well as the missionaries because he had been studying with them for so long. When asked why he had not yet been baptized, Bermi replied, “I have a desire to believe, but I don’t know that I have a testimony yet.”
One of the elders had been studying in Alma chapter 32 and asked Bermi to turn to verse 27: “But behold, if ye will awake and arouse your faculties, even to an experiment upon my words, and exercise a particle of faith, yea, even if ye can no more than desire to believe, let this desire work in you, even until ye believe in a manner that ye can give place for a portion of my words.”
As Bermi read those words, the Spirit confirmed to him that his desire to believe was enough for him to say that he had a testimony—a small testimony, but a testimony nonetheless. The elders reassured him that not everyone needed to have an experience like Joseph Smith or the Brother of Jared to say that they had a testimony. Even a desire to believe was the start of a testimony. Bermi prayed and expressed his desire to believe to the Lord. A short time later he was baptized and confirmed.

In fast and testimony meeting, Brother Johnson told an experience he had while driving across a lonely stretch of highway. The still, small voice told him to take a different route home, one that would add about 10 kilometers to his trip. Although he had been eager to get home from his business trip, he obeyed the prompting. On his detour, he came across a car accident. A young family had been traveling to visit relatives. When the father, who was driving, fell asleep, the car drifted too close to the side of the road and rolled down a steep hill. Brother Johnson was able to call for help and administer first aid.

As I arrived at the hospital, the young doctor who was attending me did what he could. But I had expanded so much, almost twice as big like a blister, that it was very difficult to tell if I was lying on my back or my stomach. And with all that, he tried to find some life signs and couldn’t. He declared me legally dead. He covered me with a sheet and took me back down to the entrance to the emergency care center. And there I was left on a cot. A nurse walked by. She was just beside the cot when my arm jerked slightly under the sheet. She became quite alarmed. They gathered all their resources and took me back up to intensive care.
Seven weeks of excruciating pain followed. Peter was given no chance to live. Teams of nurses and doctors had to relieve each other. Gradually Peter approached the threshold of consciousness.
I could hear them talking. It was like a fantasy because of all the pain. It was like a cloud around my mind. I heard the doctor say to my mother, “There is no chance that Peter will live.” When I heard him say this, I became very angry. I wanted to get up and hit the doctor. I remember trying to get off the bed, but I was tied down. I’ll never forget that feeling when the doctor said, “I don’t know how he has survived this long. There’s no chance that he’ll live.”
I remember thinking as I was slipping into a coma that I felt like I was dying. This happened many, many times, only I couldn’t remember the other times. I could only remember the time I was going through. As I was slipping away, I was so mad at the doctor that I said, I’ll prove to you I’m not going to die. I’ll keep living.”
The pain was so severe that I made a commitment to myself that before I gave up I would count to ten. I would see if I could make it to ten before I died. I’d get to five or six and feel myself slipping, and I’d say, “I’ve got to get to ten.”

—A key turned, a hatchback rose, and a light went on in the back of a car. Young Women from the Woodstock Ward, Marietta Georgia East Stake, were tromping through the rain to fill the car with the Thanksgiving feast they’d prepared for a mother and four children who recently left a battered women’s center and moved into a small apartment of their own.
“We were going to deliver it on Thanksgiving,” said Brenda Bain. “But we found out they could be hungry right now, so we didn’t want to wait. We’re going to continue helping them through the rest of the year,” she added, as she pushed the car hatch down.

One night after I went to bed, my baby brother was having trouble breathing. He had to go to the hospital. I got really nervous and decided to say a prayer. My younger sister and I prayed that Heavenly Father would help my brother breathe better, and that he would come home safely from the hospital. Our prayer was answered in the way we hoped. I know that Heavenly Father loves us.Sara Bailey, age 8Columbia, Maryland

I was baptized in May 2016. My first year of seminary started later that year. I was skeptical at first, and I wasn’t ready to get up early, but I was prompted to go. I was still a little unsure about recognizing the voice of the Spirit, but being in seminary has helped me recognize that voice. Through the Spirit, I’m able to know the scriptures are true. I know that the Spirit prompts me to highlight scriptures with meaning and that there’s always a reason. The scriptures guide me when I’m lost, and they teach me. Whenever I’m having a bad day, I can open them up and make my day better.
Shelby L., age 16, Montana, USA

César likes Oaxaca, but it is not his lifelong home. As an officer in the Mexican Air Force, Brother Arzate has been transferred all around the country, and César has attended eight different schools in four cities. “It’s a little hard at first, because no one knows me and so I don’t have any friends,” he admits. But then he quickly adds, “I pray to Heavenly Father and ask Him to help me make new friends and get good grades.” César loves his country and is proud of his father for helping to defend it.
César used to be rather shy, but Church activities have helped him to become more outgoing. Although friendly with everyone, he chooses close friends carefully. And these friendships last. He receives letters and telephone calls from all over Mexico. His best friends are his brother, Daniel (5), and his sister, Diana Gisela (2). His parents can leave them in his care with total confidence that he will keep them safe and happy. Even when the family goes on an outing, César pays attention to what the younger children are doing. He does this in a caring, not-at-all bossy way, and his little brother and sister love him dearly.

The first two days of the open house were set aside for state and local civic leaders, clergy of other faiths, business and education leaders, as well as for the media and the press. Several hundred accepted the invitation. It was my privilege, along with others, to welcome and speak to these guests and answer their questions.
Early in the morning on the first day, ignoring the rain, these invited guests stood in line to enter a house of the Lord. They quietly and reverently walked through the temple, gazing in amazement at the architectural beauty and appointments fitting a house of the Lord. They came to see for themselves what they had heard and read about.
Rabbi Wayne Dosick wrote in the San Diego Jewish Times:
“The Temple is built … of earthly materials to construct a place that inspires heavenly awe. This Mormon Temple uses sweeping architecture to create a space that invokes the celestial heavens that is awesome.” He continued, “We thank them for reminding us how holy a place a mere building can be” (“Open House Update,” San Diego Jewish Times, 20 Mar. 1993).
Many moving accounts have come to our attention as a result of this open house; countless hearts have been touched. Over eight thousand individuals with special needs came in wheelchairs, bringing relatives or friends to assist them. One young son paused at the entrance to the temple to carefully clean and polish the wheelchair his father was in before entering the sacred interior of the temple. A devoted father lifted his frail fifteen-year-old daughter in his arms as he carried her from her wheelchair into the brides’ dressing room. She looked around and said, “Oh, this is so beautiful.” With a smile on her lips and with tears in her eyes, she gently laid her head on her father’s shoulder and said, “This is where I want to come to be married someday.” This young girl had come to the temple from the hospital, where she has spent most of the past five years, her wish to see the temple fulfilled.
Those who have attended the open house not only have been touched by its beauty, but notes and comments indicate that many have felt a deep reverence and profound emotional impact.

Carrie settled down on the floor in front of a display case full of Christmas jewelry. She waved to her big brother, and he grinned. He was standing on the risers with other members of the children’s choir waiting to begin their Christmas concert at the mall. She thought he looked very handsome in his choir uniform. The boys in the choir were all dressed alike in white shirts with red-striped ties. The girls all wore blue dresses with lacy white collars and a red rose. They looked very dressed-up.
Carrie thought back to earlier in the day, when the choir had given a concert in a local church. The church had very tall stained-glass windows that reflected a softly-colored rainbow of light across the children’s faces as they sang. Their beautiful voices rose to the high rafters of the church. Mom had said that they sounded just like angels. Like the angels that announced the birth of Jesus Christ to the shepherds long ago, Carrie hoped.
Now the choir was giving the same concert at the shopping mall, but things felt different here. Carrie looked around. She was impatient for the concert to begin, but not if it was going to be this noisy. A nearby cash register was making loud beeps as a store clerk rang up sales. There was a person in a teddy-bear costume entertaining some giggling children. People were talking loudly around a large Christmas tree decorated with gifts that could be bought at the different stores in the mall.
Finally the concert began. A boy in the choir stepped forward and began to sing a solo with a violin accompaniment. When Carrie had heard this song in the church, it made her feel joyful. At the church, everyone had listened quietly. She had even noticed tears in the eyes of some of those in the audience. As she looked around the shopping mall now, few people were listening. Most were busy shopping or chatting or eating. She didn’t see reverent tears in anyone’s eyes.
When the concert was over, she was sad that hardly anyone had really listened to the beautiful music. Taking her mother’s hand, she walked out of the mall to meet her brother.
“Did the shepherds listen to the angels, Mom?” she asked. “Or were they too busy tending the sheep?”
Mom smiled. “They listened, Carrie. That’s how they knew where to find Baby Jesus.”
“Did the angels sing for anyone besides the shepherds?”
“I don’t know. The scriptures don’t tell us about anyone else.”
“What about all the people staying near the stable? You told me that there were so many people in Bethlehem that there wasn’t any room in the inns for Mary and Joseph.”
“The city was very crowded that night. But I suppose those people were too tired to listen to angels after their long journey to Bethlehem. Or maybe they were busy finding a place to sleep, preparing food, or thinking about the taxes they’d have to pay.”
Carrie thought about that for a few minutes, then sighed. “Mom, I hope that no matter what I’m doing, I’ll always be able to hear the angels sing.”
“Me, too.” Mom gave Carrie a hug. “Me, too.”

Caliana McMurtrey of Big Thompson Ward, Loveland Colorado Stake, shows this spirit in her own way. Caliana knows what it is to give of herself. To celebrate her ninth birthday, she decided to have her first real haircut.

The hairstylist, Jill Harris, also a member of Big Thompson Ward, braided Caliana’s hair from the middle of her back to her hips, then cut 15? (38 cm) from the 30? (76 cm) length. Caliana donated her hair to an organization that makes wigs of real hair for children who have lost their hair because of cancer treatments, burns, or other medical problems.

Before the big moment, Caliana had never had a real haircut, just trims and snips. She decided to donate her hair after her mother told her about seeing a television program on charities that make children’s wigs.

“I want to do that because I have such long hair,” Caliana said.

During a summer visit to my boyhood home in southern Alberta, one of the old-timers who was teaching a Sunday School class related an incident that occurred in nearby Waterton National Park in 1922. It was a happening with which most of us were familiar.
A young man who held the office of teacher in the Aaronic Priesthood was employed during the summer by the park administration. One August morning he was given the responsibility of packing fingerling trout to the Belly River Lakes for the purpose of stocking those waters with fish. It would require a day-long hike along a poorly defined mountain trail. His pack consisted of several gallons of water, into which hundreds of fingerlings were placed.
It was a beautiful day for a hike, and the young man was excited to begin the journey. He followed the course of the river, and as he rounded one bend and approached a wild berry patch he found a large grizzly feasting upon the ripe berries. The bear stretched on its hind legs to its full eight feet and roared disapproval at the sudden intrusion.
The young man was unarmed. The terrain and heavy growth of the mountainside was such that he could not make his way around the grizzly. He knew that it would be foolish to challenge the bear directly. At this point the young teacher could have cast the fingerlings into the bushes and beat a fast retreat to camp, and he probably would not have been criticized for his conduct. But this thought did not seriously enter his mind.
Almost without thinking he dropped to his knees on the mountain trail, in full view of this giant bear, and offered a simple prayer to his Heavenly Father. He explained in simple, but urgent, words that he had been given an assignment to deliver fingerlings to the lakes. There was no other possible trail for him, and in order to continue his mission, it was necessary that the Lord intervene to remove the bear.
When he finished the prayer he rose slowly and looked squarely into the eyes of this huge creature. The grizzly swung his head from side to side a time or two, then dropped to all fours and lumbered off through the berry patch, leaving the trail free for the young teacher.
This young man undoubtedly felt fear, but displayed rare courage. He had lived his life in such a way that at the very moment he needed help, he knew that he could be in immediate touch with Heavenly Father. His safety did not depend upon a high powered rifle, but on unwavering faith that he could count on the Lord for protection.

Now, once you receive it, be obedient to the promptings you receive. I learned a sobering lesson as a mission president. I was also a General Authority. I had been prompted several times, for the good of the work, to release one of my counselors. Besides praying about it, I had reasoned that it was the right thing to do. But I did not do it. I feared that it would be spiritually harmful to a man who had given long service to the Church.
The Spirit withdrew from me. I could get no promptings on who should be called as a counselor should I release him. It lasted several weeks. My prayers seemed to go no further than the room where I offered them. I tried a number of alternate ways to arrange the work, but to no avail. Finally, I did as I was bidden to do by the Spirit. Immediately, the gift returned! Oh, the exquisite sweetness to have that gift again. You know it, for you have it, the gift of the Holy Ghost. And the brother was not harmed, indeed he was greatly blessed and the work prospered.

When he was eight years old, he wanted to be baptized. His nonmember father felt that Howard should be older before he chose to join any church. Even though he knew Heavenly Father wanted him to be a member of the Church, young Howard also knew it was important to do what his father wanted him to do. He honored his father by waiting for his permission. Five months after his twelfth birthday, Howard was baptized.

A few years ago, when I was 17, I was depressed and aimless. I wasn’t hanging out with good friends or doing good things. One day my dad told me that he had signed me up to attend a For the Strength of Youth conference in a nearby country. I didn’t want to go, but knowing that he wanted me to, I reluctantly went.
Surprisingly, the spiritual experiences I had at that conference changed my life completely.
At FSY I really saw what it means to be a disciple of Christ—to live differently than the world. All these faithful young people were such a contrast to the negative influences I was usually surrounded by. I felt like I actually saw the light these disciples were carrying. Each day, I felt the Spirit so strongly as I spent time with good people, studied the scriptures, learned more about the gospel, and got to know Heavenly Father and the Savior better.
I realized I needed to change my behaviors and really start to understand what the gospel of Jesus Christ could bring to my life.
After I went home, I didn’t want to lose the connection to the Spirit that I had felt during the conference, so I made a goal to do what was necessary to keep my newfound foundation in the gospel firm and keep the Spirit with me.
Making changes was a little hard at first. I had to stop spending time with certain friends because they were not a good influence on me. I worked to give up some bad habits. I started taking church seriously. Making these decisions helped me fill my life with goodness. What has helped me stay consistently connected to the Spirit is setting aside time each day to study the scriptures, especially the Book of Mormon.
The teachings in the scriptures remind me what is really important in my life. When I feel lonely in my faith, especially with so few members here in Bulgaria, I allow the truths of ancient prophets to deepen my faith in Jesus Christ.
One of my favorite verses is Moroni 10:32: “Come unto Christ, and be perfected in him, and deny yourselves of all ungodliness; and if ye shall deny yourselves of all ungodliness, and love God with all your might, mind and strength, then is his grace sufficient for you, that by his grace ye may be perfect in Christ.”
It’s scriptures like this one that remind me of the light the gospel offers and keep me strong when I’m having a hard time. The scriptures always strengthen my foundation of faith.
Right now, I’m preparing to serve a mission, and I still face unknowns and challenges (like recently being diagnosed with type 1 diabetes). But prioritizing spiritual habits helps me feel Heavenly Father’s love more than ever.
President Russell M. Nelson recently reminded us that “thinking celestial means being spiritually minded.”
Striving to do the things that keep the Spirit with me each day really helps me to think celestial—to be spiritually minded. I’ve felt myself become more like Christ as I think about what He would do. Keeping the Spirit with me helps me have hope and remember the blessings Heavenly Father has in store for all who choose to follow Him.
Living in a wicked world where things feel dark can be hard at times. But it also helps me better realize the bright, contrasting warmth and light of the gospel of Jesus Christ. I was missing the significance of this amazing blessing in my life for years. I’m so grateful for the spiritual experiences Heavenly Father can lead us to, because now, I cling to the light and joy of the gospel more than ever.
I testify that if you trust the Lord and study from the Book of Mormon every day, your life will become much easier. You will begin to see the blessings our loving Heavenly Father gives us every day, and you will realize who you can become with the help of the Lord.

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

Several years ago, as this Conference Center was being built and nearing completion, I entered this sacred building on the balcony level in a hard hat and safety glasses, ready to vacuum the carpet that my husband was helping to install. Where the rostrum now stands was a front-end loader moving dirt, and the dust in this building was thick. When it settled, it did so on the new carpet. My part was to vacuum. And so I vacuumed and vacuumed and vacuumed. After three days my little vacuum burned up!

The afternoon before the first general conference in this beautiful building, my husband called me. He was about to install the last piece of carpet—under this historic pulpit.

He asked, “What scripture should I write on the back of this carpet?”

And I said, “Mosiah 18:9: ‘Stand as [a witness] of God at all times and in all things, and in all places.’”

Years ago when I was vacuuming this carpet—trying to act well my small part—I didn’t realize that I would one day stand with my feet on the carpet under this pulpit.

As Tim took one last swing at the pine tree, the ax resounded and a slow snapping sound sang through the small valley. “Look out!” Tim shouted.
Jeff sidestepped the falling tree, then he noticed Tim had lost his footing and was tumbling down the long, steep hill just beyond the fallen tree. Jeff slid to where his brother lay against a huge rock, his leg twisted into an unnatural position beneath him. “Tim! Tim! Are you all right?” But there was no answer.
Snow was beginning to fall in huge soft flakes, and Jeff fell to his knees to brush it off Tim’s face. “Wake up, Tim,” Jeff urged.
After a long moment, Tim slowly opened his eyes.
“Thank goodness!” Jeff said. “What happened?”
“I slipped trying to get out of the way of the tree,” Tim answered slowly.
“Can you walk?” Jeff asked as his older brother slowly rolled over and tried to sit up.
“Oh, boy!” Tim cried. “Something’s wrong with my leg. I can’t put any weight on it.”
“Maybe it’s broken,” Jeff said, afraid to think what that might mean. His heart felt as though it were made of lead. He and Tim had come to the mountains early to open the cabin and to cut a Christmas tree. Tomorrow would be Christmas Eve and the rest of the family wouldn’t arrive until then for the family’s traditional holiday in the mountains.
“I don’t know,” Tim replied. But the pain in his voice said more than the words.
Jeff looked across the white and green patchwork on the mountain. The sun disappearing on the other side meant that there was probably an hour left before total darkness settled over the valley. The cabin was about fifty yards away. Tim’s so heavy, how am I ever going to carry him there? Jeff wondered. And once we get there, then what? There’s no phone in the cabin and nobody around for miles. I’ll probably have to get to the main highway to find help and that’s ten miles away!
Tim must have been thinking the same thing. “Jeff, there’s no time to waste,” he said. “I think I can drag myself back to the cabin. If you take off now and hurry, you’ll make it to the highway for help just after dark. Think you can do it?”
“But I can’t leave you alone like this!”
Tim’s face was pinched with pain. “You have to, Jeff,” he urged. “I need help!”
Jeff hesitated, but only for a moment. “All right. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Then he turned and began to carefully make his way down the snowy mountain. When Jeff tried to go faster, he slipped and fell. Picking himself up he glanced back up the hill.
Tim had moved about fifteen feet. “Hurry,” Tim called. “I’ll be all right.”
Jeff zipped his coat up around his neck to keep out the snow and went on. Soon he reached a narrow winding roadway. The road wasn’t as steep or rocky as the mountain path so he started jogging. He looked back, but Tim and the cabin were out of view.
Dusk settling over the quiet valley gave the towering pines a spooky look. The snow muffled any sounds except the thud, thud, thudding of Jeff’s feet. “Faster, faster, faster,” he kept repeating, his breath looking like smoke in the cold air. And his feet did move faster and faster, even though they slipped and stumbled on the road. Then a pain in his side forced him to slow to a walk. The falling snow had covered the narrow road, making it hard to tell which way to go. And now Jeff realized the darkness was coming faster than expected. The whole valley was suffused in shadows and deadly silence, with the mountains towering on either side like giants. Jeff had never felt so alone, so helpless, so scared. “What if I don’t make it?” he whispered then stopped himself. “I can’t think like that,” he said to convince himself. “I have to make it. I will make it!”
The dark world around him became colder and more frightening, and there was no moon yet. But fortunately the snow had stopped and a few stars were showing through the cloudy black sky.
Jeff began to run again as he searched his mind for something to think about to keep away the fear. Suddenly a cracking noise stopped him. He listened intently but there was only silence. “Must have been a limb breaking under the weight of the snow,” he mumbled, looking around. In the darkness everything seemed huge and threatening. But the worst feeling was that of loneliness.
Quickly Jeff’s mind reached for a thought, any thought. Slowly some familiar words began to form in his head. What were they? Night … star … brightly … then he remembered. They were words from one of the songs he’d sung for the Christmas sacrament meeting program: “O holy night! The stars are brightly shining; it is the night of the dear Saviour’s birth. … ”
Jeff hadn’t thought much about the words then, but now in the cold darkness they were taking on new meaning. He looked up. There was only one star shining mistily through the clouds. As he stared at it, the song became more than mere words. And finally he began to understand what the words meant.
Slowly more of the song drifted through his mind. “In all our trials, born to be our friend … ”
It was starting to snow again. “This certainly is a trial and I sure need a friend,” he murmured.
He watched the snow, letting the thoughts float freely through his mind. “He was born and He died because He loved me so much,” Jeff whispered into the darkness. “He is my friend.”
A beautiful feeling of comfort replaced the fear and worry in Jeff’s heart.
“I’m not alone,” he said loudly, “and I know Tim is going to be all right.”
With snow falling again, Jeff dropped to his knees. “Heavenly Father, I thank Thee for Christmas and for Thy Son and for being with me. I know Thou wilt be with my brother too. Please lead me to someone who can help us …”