Gospel Story Finder

Her mother expected her to continue with her university education and earn a master’s degree. “But I told her I wanted to go on a mission. She said that I couldn’t, that I mustn’t sacrifice the years I should be in school. I prayed very hard that my mom would let me go. And then I learned something very important.
“You see, we had a young man living in our home. He was about twenty-five years old and was like an adopted son to my mother. His health was poor, and my mother took care of him and supported him when he served for a time as a Buddhist monk. I was very jealous of him and of the attention my mother paid him. I wouldn’t even sit at the same table with him.
“When I prayed to Heavenly Father for my mom to let me go on a mission, I received the answer that first I would have to show her that I loved everyone, even the young man I was so jealous of. It was a very hard thing for me to accept. But the next morning when I saw the young man, I waved at him and said ‘Hi!’ It was the first word I had said to him in seven years. When I turned to face my mother, she had tears in her eyes. I knew then that everything would be all right. I told her that I really wanted to go on a mission and that her support was most important. I really appreciate all that my mother has done for me.”

Another profound influence in Elder Orton’s life was his grandmother Mildred Riggs, who lived with the family after the death of her husband. She set an example of personal righteousness and self-discipline, reading the scriptures faithfully every day and choosing to serve a mission while in her late 60s. “When the time came for me to consider going on a mission, I began to think of my grandmother and the kind of person she had been,” Elder Orton recalls. “Finally I said to myself, If Grandma Riggs can do it, you can do it, and you should do it.” Elder Orton subsequently served in the French Mission, an experience he credits with deepening his love for the restored gospel.

When our children were missionaries, they learned that when we stand as a witness of Jesus Christ, the Holy Ghost will confirm that testimony. One of our daughters had a golden investigator named JieLei. This young adult woman obeyed each new commandment she was taught, no matter how difficult. She was a student struggling to make ends meet financially, but she began paying her tithing when she learned about that law. Her part-time job required her to work on Sunday, but she had the courage to ask her employer if he could change her hours to another day so that she could attend sacrament meeting.
In spite of her diligence, JieLei still did not have a firm testimony of the Book of Mormon. Our daughter and her companion knew that she needed a witness from the Spirit to confirm its truth, so they prepared a lesson for her about the Holy Ghost. As they worked on it, somehow it didn’t feel quite right. When they prayed about it, they felt impressed to go a different direction, to give a lesson instead about Jesus Christ.
When the appointed meeting came, these missionaries began teaching JieLei about Jesus Christ. Tears started streaming down her cheeks. She kept asking, “What is this I am feeling?” Then they bore witness to her that it was the Spirit. Exactly what they had wanted to have happen did happen. It was then that our daughter remembered that one of the great roles of the Holy Ghost is as a testifier of Christ. Jesus Himself said, “The Comforter, which is the Holy Ghost, … shall testify of me.” Our daughter realized that as she stood as a witness of Jesus Christ, the Holy Ghost confirmed it. We too can stand as witnesses as “we talk of Christ, we rejoice in Christ, we preach of Christ” and look to Him as the source for “a remission of [our] sins.”

Fifty-two years ago, in July 1964, I had an assignment in New York City during the time the World’s Fair was hosted there. Early one morning I visited the Mormon Pavilion at the fair. I arrived just prior to a showing of the Church’s film Man’s Search for Happiness, a portrayal of the plan of salvation which has since become a Church classic. I sat next to a young man who was perhaps 35 years of age. We spoke briefly. He was not a member of our Church. Then the lights dimmed, and the show commenced.
We listened to the voice of the narrator as he posed the poignant and universal questions: Where did I come from? Why am I here? Where do I go when I leave this life? All ears strained to hear the answers, and all eyes were fixed on the images portrayed. A description of our premortal life was given, along with an explanation of our purpose on earth. We witnessed a touching depiction of the passing from this life of an elderly grandfather and of his glorious reunion with loved ones who had preceded him to the spirit world.
At the conclusion of this beautiful portrayal of our Heavenly Father’s plan for us, the crowd silently filed out, many visibly touched by the message of the film. The young visitor next to me did not arise. I asked if he had enjoyed the presentation. His emphatic response: “This is the truth!”
Our Father’s plan for our happiness and our salvation is shared by our missionaries throughout the world. Not all who hear this divine message accept and embrace it. However, men and women everywhere, just like my young friend at the New York World’s Fair, recognize its truths, and they plant their feet on the path that will lead them safely home. Their lives are forever changed.

For about a year I played the role of the mother of the house. I loved my family, and I wanted to take care of them, but I sometimes wondered, “Why do I have to stay home and watch the little kids, fix supper, and do the laundry?” I was only in junior high school. In those moments when I would start to cry, I’d see my father. He tried so hard to make our home happy. All day he would work hard and then come home and listen to our problems and our complaints and smile and say he loved us. I never once heard him complain or break down in front of us. He knew the whole family depended on him. If he broke down, the family would also. But if he were strong, the family would follow.
I remember those days and all the pain and testing we went through. Looking at pictures that were taken then, I can still see the pain when I look into the eyes of those in the photographs.

Getting up at 4:30 A.M. on Thursday mornings became an ordinary part of Camie Brasher’s week during her high school years. She decided to do baptisms for the dead, usually enlisting two or three friends in her Holladay 14th Ward, Salt Lake Holladay South Stake, to go with her.
The weekly treks to the Salt Lake Temple were soon life changing for Camie. “It was amazing how Thursdays were so much better than other days,” she recalls. “I loved feeling the peace of the temple and felt very close to the people I was baptized for. Now I definitely want to be married there.”

President Joseph F. Smith was six years old when his father, Hyrum, was killed in Carthage Jail. Joseph crossed the plains with his widowed mother. At age 15 he was called on a mission to Hawaii. He felt lost and alone and said: "I was very much oppressed. … I was almost naked and entirely friendless, except the friendship of a poor, benighted … people. I felt as if I was so debased in my condition of poverty, lack of intelligence and knowledge, just a boy, that I hardly dared look [anyone] in the face."

While pondering his plight, the young elder had a dream, "a literal thing; … a reality." He dreamed he was on a journey rushing as fast as he possibly could.

He carried a small bundle. Finally he came to a wonderful mansion, his destination. As he approached, he saw a notice, "Bath." He turned aside quickly, went in, and washed himself clean. He opened his little bundle and found clean, white clothing—"a thing," he said, "I had not seen for a long time." He put them on and rushed to the door of the mansion.

"I knocked," he said, "and the door opened, and the man who stood there was the Prophet Joseph Smith. He looked at me a little reprovingly, and the first words he said [were]: 'Joseph, you are late.' … I took confidence and said:

"'Yes, but I am clean—I am clean!'" And so it can be with you.

Whether it’s bringing the joy of music to the world, fixing a neighbor’s fence, or teaching the gospel, Chance has discovered the strongest and purest motivation behind it all.

“One of the most important things I’ve learned is the love God has for us,” he says. “I was going through a really tough time, and I was filled with this hatred and was blaming God for my issues. I was saying, ‘Why did you allow this to happen? Am I not worth it?’ And through this experience, I had a great moment at Especially for Youth. I learned that the number-one important thing about this gospel is that God always loves us. No matter how far gone we are, He always, always loves us and wants us to be happy and will do everything He can for us to be happy.”

2. Forbear one another. It would be wonderful if all 365 days of the year found each of us at our best. Realistically, however, sometimes we get tired and irritable, or we encounter the flu or a backache—and then other people need to “keep out of our way.” There were times when Bill ridiculed Susan for not feeling well during her pregnancy. It didn’t make her feel any better for him to say, “It’s all in your mind, Dear.” At times like that, Susan would go into her room crying—and not speak to Bill for as many as two days.

Their growing inventory of gospel insights has helped change much of that now. Susan is expecting their fifth child, doesn’t feel well, and is still sometimes a little difficult to live with because of her condition. But Bill finds guidance in Ecclesiastes 7:8 [Eccl. 7:8]: “Better is the end of a thing than the beginning thereof: and the patient in spirit is better than the proud in spirit.” He has resolved to show his love to his wife in many ways—even when conditions are not the easiest.

The Apostle Paul said it well in his letter to the Colossians: “Put on therefore, as the elect of God, holy and beloved, bowels of mercies, kindness, humbleness of mind, meekness, longsuffering;

“Forbearing one another, and forgiving one another, if any man have a quarrel against any: even as Christ forgave you, so also do ye.

“And above all these things put on charity, which is the bond of perfectness.

“And let the peace of God rule in your hearts, to the which also ye are called in one body.” (Col. 3:12–15.) Paul counsels further to “set your affection on things above, not on things on the earth. …

“Husbands, love your wives, and be not bitter against them. …

“Fathers, provoke not your children to anger, lest they be discouraged.” (Col. 3:2, 19, 21.)

Christ’s love for Bill and Susan is unconditional. Now they are trying to develop a similar love for each other, realizing that “a friend loveth at all times.” (Prov. 17:17.) They are becoming each other’s best friend.

While most quorum members are still in bed, David is up checking over his agenda for presidency meeting and preparing to conduct the quorum meeting.
Shortly before time for priesthood meeting, he calls some of his deacons to remind them of assignments or invite them to the meeting.
David’s father calls the family together for family prayer before he and David leave for priesthood meeting.
David knows that he must set an example in personal grooming as in all other ways. Before leaving for the chapel, he checks his appearance in the hall mirror.
This is a special day. It is the first day the Brampton Ward is meeting in phase one of its new meetinghouse. David and the other deacons have helped in its construction. Now they will help with the landscaping and the construction of phase two. They will always help to keep it clean and its atmosphere reverent.
David welcomes the deacons and adult leaders to the deacons quorum meetings, discusses business, and makes assignments. Then he listens intently as his adviser teaches the lesson.
After quorum meeting, he meets with his counselors, Randy Sookhoo and Terry DeGouw and his secretary, Kingsley Anderson, in quorum presidency meeting. They complete their three-month calendar, and David assigns responsibility for the activation of quorum members. They also plan a strawberry-picking party.
In Sunday School David serves as bishop’s messenger and passes the sacrament. Afterward he takes an active part in his Sunday School class discussion.
After lunch David and his father work on their talks. David’s father is a high councilor, and he and David are speaking at a ward in Toronto this afternoon.
David talks on the keys of the Aaronic Priesthood. His father talks on the importance of families. Everyone listens intently as David speaks. He has prepared well and speaks fluently.
Back home, the family relaxes after dinner by playing a scripture-study game. David does well because he studies his scriptures daily.
Before getting ready for bed, David records his day’s activities and insights in his journal.
Sunday is a special day for a deacons quorum president, but throughout the entire week, David will try to help his deacons. He says, “I feel that if I don’t do my job I’m going to be in real trouble, because the Church needs good deacons to make it strong.”

Amy explained that when her modern-day family saw the pageant performed in Nauvoo over a decade ago, they recognised the beautiful pioneer spirit there and knew they wanted to be part of it. After applying multiple times, they were accepted as part of the family cast of the Nauvoo and British Pageant to be performed in Nauvoo during 2018.
Remembering that amazing experience, Amy reminisced, “We danced and sang and worked day after day in the hot sun to learn our parts, to be ready to perform. Our kids danced and played music in the country band all while costumed from head to toe in 1840’s pioneer attire. One week of rehearsals and the next week is go time! It’s quite miraculous how it all comes together. I’ll always remember and cherish the feeling of unity we shared as a family.”

Some decisions are choices between doing something or doing nothing. I heard an example of this kind of choice at a stake conference in the United States many years ago.
The setting was a beautiful college campus. A crowd of young students was seated on the grass. The speaker who described this circumstance said they were watching a handsome tree squirrel with a large, bushy tail playing around the base of a beautiful hardwood tree. Sometimes it was on the ground, sometimes up and down and around the trunk. But why would that familiar sight attract a crowd of students?
Stretched out prone on the grass nearby was an Irish setter. He was the object of the students’ interest, and the squirrel was the object of his. Each time the squirrel was momentarily out of sight circling the tree, the setter would quietly creep forward a few inches and then resume his apparently indifferent posture. This was what held the students’ interest. Silent and immobile, their eyes were riveted on the event whose outcome was increasingly obvious.
Finally, the setter was close enough to bound at the squirrel and catch it in his mouth. A gasp of horror arose, and the crowd of students surged forward and wrested the little animal away from the dog, but it was too late. The squirrel was dead.
Anyone in that crowd could have warned the squirrel at any time by waving his or her arms or crying out, but none did. They just watched while the inevitable outcome got closer and closer. No one asked, “Where will this lead?” When the predictable occurred, all rushed to prevent the outcome, but it was too late. Tearful regret was all they could offer.
That true story is a parable of sorts. It applies to things we see in our own lives and in lives and circumstances around us. As we see threats creeping up on persons or things we love, we have the choice of speaking or acting or remaining silent. It is well to ask ourselves, “Where will this lead?” Where the consequences are immediate and serious, we cannot afford to do nothing. We must sound appropriate warnings or support appropriate preventive efforts while there is still time.

A couple of years ago my family and I moved. The first few weeks that I attended church and Mutual, I felt alone. But I prayed every day that I would be able to make new friends and feel a part of my new ward. Little by little I have come to love and appreciate this ward. I had to be the one to initiate friendships. I had to start the conversation. I had to fully participate in classes and listen to what others said. With Heavenly Father’s help, I now have close friendships with people I never pictured being friends with.
Leah V., 16, Colorado, USA

Will you join me as we look in on a typical Latter-day Saint family offering prayers unto the Lord? Father, mother, and each of the children kneel, bow their heads, and close their eyes. A sweet spirit of love, unity, and peace fills the home. As father hears his tiny son pray unto God that his dad will do the right things and be obedient to the Lord’s bidding, do you think that such a father would find it difficult to honor the prayer of his precious son? As a teenage daughter hears her sweet mother plead unto the Lord that her daughter will be inspired in the selection of her companions, that she will prepare herself for a temple marriage, don’t you believe that such a daughter will seek to honor this humble, pleading petition of her mother, whom she so dearly loves? When father, mother, and each of the children earnestly pray that the fine sons in the family will live worthily that they may, in due time, receive a call to serve as ambassadors of the Lord in the mission fields of the Church, don’t we begin to see how such sons grow to young manhood with an overwhelming desire to serve as missionaries? I am sure that family prayer motivated a letter written some years ago by a young Latter-day Saint girl attending a Colorado high school. The students had been asked to prepare a letter to be written to a great man of their choice. Many addressed their letters to well-known athletes, to a noted astronaut, to the president of the United States, and to other celebrities. This young lady, however, addressed her letter to her father, and in the letter she stated: “I have decided to write this letter to you, Dad, because you are the greatest man that I have ever known. The overwhelming desire of my heart is that I might so live that I might have the privilege of being beside you and Mother and other members of the family in the celestial kingdom.” That father never received a more cherished letter.

Why do bad things always happen to me?” grumbled Harold as he tried to pull his school backpack out from under him. It was a cold morning, and the road to school was very icy. He was late, and in his hurry, he had fallen just outside the school door and landed on his backpack.
Harold looked inside the pack. “Oh no!” he moaned. “This is worse than I thought.” When he’d fallen, he’d mashed everything in his lunch, including the little box of juice his mother had put in as a treat. It had squirted over everything. Harold pulled out his book report. It was dripping with apple juice.
“Why do bad things always happen to me?” he muttered over and over as he opened the school door and went down the hall to his class, holding the dripping book report with two fingers.
“Good morning, Harold. How are you today?” Mrs. Bennett asked as he walked into the classroom.
“I’m terrible,” he growled as he hung up his coat and sat down.
Two girls nearby giggled. “Harold is always terrible,” Katie said.
“Always,” laughed Anna.
Mrs. Bennett went over and sat down next to Harold. “Why is everything so terrible?”
Without a word, Harold showed her the soggy and sticky book report. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. He smoothed it out on the top of his desk and said, “See this? Bad things always happen to me. I can prove it because I have them all written down on this list. Now I need to add what happened on the way to school. I fell on the ice. I smashed my lunch. Juice got all over my book report, and I think I bruised my elbow.”
“Well,” his teacher said, “that is kind of a tough way to start the morning. What else is on your list?”
Harold read down his bad things list. “Yesterday I stubbed my toe. My two big brothers drank all the chocolate milk at dinner before I could get any. I didn’t get a turn on the swings at recess. On Monday I lost my favorite toy, and my pencil broke during the spelling test. Amanda spilled her milk in the lunchroom, and it went all over me.” Harold took a deep breath and was about to go on.
“I see what you mean,” Mrs. Bennett broke in quickly. “I’m wondering, though, just why you keep all of that on a list.”
“Because if I don’t, I might forget something. You see bad things always happen to me.”
Mrs. Bennett looked at Harold and then pulled a pencil from behind her ear. “Do you know what I think?” she asked.
Harold shook his head.
“I think your list isn’t long enough.” Harold looked at his teacher in surprise. He thought his list pretty much covered everything. He had kept it in his pocket and added to it all week.
“I’m really curious to see what your list looks like if you write down absolutely everything that happens to you today. You will need more than that little paper. Here, use this notebook. Start with what happened on the way to school; then add everything that happens to you all day.”
“OK,” Harold said, “but you’ll see that bad things always happen to me.” Mrs. Bennett just smiled, and he started writing. He made sure that he covered all the details about the apple juice, the ruined book report, the mashed sandwich, his bruised elbow—everything.
Math was the first class. The students worked through the problems on the chalkboard while Mrs. Bennett handed back their tests. Harold’s had a big 100% written on the top! She winked at Harold when she gave it to him and said, “Better write this down in the notebook.” Harold got out his list.
Later the students were reading aloud a play, and when they drew names, Harold drew the part of the hero! Mrs. Bennett winked again, and Harold knew that he was supposed to write that down.
As the children put on their coats to go outside for recess, his teacher noticed that he had some new boots with a warm, fuzzy lining and new gloves to match. “New boots, Harold?” she asked.
“Yep,” he said. “Mom got them for me yesterday.”
“Hmmmm,” Mrs. Bennett rubbed her chin. “That sounds to me like something that happened to you.”
“I know,” said Harold. “I’d better write it down.” While he was at it, he noticed that his coat was pretty nice and warm, too. Then he realized that he hadn’t yet written down anything about the hot breakfast his mother had made for him.
As the day went on, Harold’s list grew longer and longer. Right after lunch, he put down all about how terrible it was to eat a mashed lunch and how Robert had laughed about his funny flat sandwich for an hour. But out on the playground, he scored three baskets for his team, and Nick asked him to play after school, and he had to put that on the list too.
During art, his paint water spilled all over. That went into the notebook in big, capital letters. Jenny helped him wipe everything up, though, and Mrs. Bennett winked again, so he knew he was supposed to add “help from a friend” to his list. He was on the third page of the notebook already.
At the end of the day, Harold took the notebook back to his teacher. “Well,” he said, “I think I’ve recorded just about everything.”
“Good,” she said. “What do you think—shall we count up all the bad things now?”
Harold looked at his feet and fiddled with the old crumpled list in his pocket. It was really hard for him to say it, but maybe everything wasn’t so terrible. “Mrs. Bennett,” he said as he looked at the notebook, “I think maybe I saved up all the bad things so long that I forgot to notice the good things.”
Mrs. Bennett smiled.
“This kind of list is a lot more interesting to write than the old one. Do you think I could keep this paper?”
“Harold, you can keep the whole notebook,” Mrs. Bennett said. “I hope you keep adding things until it’s a very long list.”
Harold grinned. “Thanks,” he said. “But, you know, it still makes me mad that my apple juice ended up all over my book report instead of in my lunch.”
“I bet it does,” Mrs. Bennett said, “but at least it helped you see not only that good things happened to you, too, but also that it helps to write things down. Hmmm—I think you’ll have good things happen to you next week when we start a lesson on journals. What do you think?”
“Yes!”

One young woman, serving in a stake Relief Society presidency and at the time also laboring under the pressure of an especially challenging project, lost her temper one morning during a presidency meeting. The cause of her unhappiness had little to do with the question at hand and was related more to the fact that at the time she was laboring under intense home pressure on a major task and was feeling frustrated and frazzled. Afterward, she was embarrassed at her behavior and immediately called to apologize for her outburst. Her friends in the presidency were generous and told her not to think another thing about it. Still she wondered if they might think less of her, now that they’d seen her at less than her best. But that evening the doorbell rang around dinnertime, and there stood the other members of the presidency with dinner in hand. “We knew when you lost your cool this morning that you must just be worn out. We thought a little supper might help. We want you to know we love you.” The young woman was amazed. In spite of her outburst that morning, her friends were there to offer support rather than criticism. Rather than seize the opportunity to bash her, they were filled with the spirit of charity.

She was sure it was late fall of 1993. At least that’s what Amy Westerby thought when she left Provo one morning to travel to Antelope Island located in the middle of the Great Salt Lake in Utah. Somewhere along the way, she seemed to go back in time 600 years before Christ.
Amy had been selected to play the character Susan in the new seminary videos where truths from the Book of Mormon are played out in modern scenarios. This day she was there to participate in the opening shots of the video called I Will Prepare the Way, where her character walks along a long, white sand beach. She was also going to get the chance to see Nephi’s boat being built.
According to Amy it was amazing to see a huge wooden boat being constructed before her eyes. And the men playing Nephi and his brothers were so realistically dressed. It felt a little like a time machine. “It was great just to be there,” said Amy, “and watch the whole thing happen.”

“I’m hungry,” Becky grumbled as she plodded along behind the wagon.
“Me too!” Jonathan said. “Do you think Pa would mind if we stopped to pick some berries?”
Becky shook her head. “We’d better not. Pa says that if we don’t keep up with the rest of the wagons, we won’t be able to get down the mountain.”
“I wish Ma were here.” Jonathan’s eyes filled with tears. “She’d find us something to eat.”
From the front of the wagon came the sound of music, and Jonathan perked up a little. “Jacob’s hungry, too,” he said. “He always plays that harmonica when his stomach growls.”
Laughing, they hurried along. Sure enough, Jacob Brewster was tapping his foot and playing as hard as he could. With one hand he guided the oxen; with the other he played a tune on his harmonica.
Jacob Brewster was seventeen years old and an orphan. He had asked to join the wagon train in North Platte, and Pa had offered him meals and a place on their wagon if Jacob would help with the oxen.
Soon the signal came to stop for the noon meal. Becky made a thin gruel from a small handful of cornmeal, sweetened with a few drops of the carefully hoarded molasses. Pa cut each of them a small piece of a tough biscuit, and they dipped it into the gruel.
“Brother Snow says that we’re almost there,” Pa said. “He thinks that we’ll make it in the next two days.”
Jonathan jumped up and down. “Really, Pa? Does he really mean it?” Pa just smiled and nodded.
When the meal was over, Becky and Jacob quickly repacked the wagon and stomped out the small campfire.
Just after the family had left Omaha, Nebraska, Becky’s mother had a bad fall from the wagon. Within a week she had died. Now fifteen-year-old Becky had to fix all the meals, take care of the wagon, and help young Jonathan get over their mother’s death. It wasn’t easy when she still missed Mama terribly herself.
While they were stopped, Becky hurried to fill the water cans at the small stream. With a gentle touch she watered the tiny lilac plants in the back of the wagon. Her mother had taken care of them so carefully. In her mind she could hear her mother’s sweet voice tell Pa: “Why, it won’t be home without lilacs around the door! Don’t you worry, Becky and I will take care of them.”
“Time to go, Becky.” Pa’s shout broke into her thoughts.
“I’m ready, Pa. Jonathan, why don’t you ride for a while.” She helped her seven-year-old brother into the back of the wagon, knowing that in a little while he would be asleep.
The trail up the mountain grew steeper, and the pace began to slow. Anxiously Becky watched the darkening sky. A thunderstorm is one thing that we don’t need today, she thought.
The huge clouds grew darker. The slight breeze gusted fiercely, then became a stiff wind. From the north came the first flashes of lightning.
“Becky! We’ll have to lighten the load if we want to get up this mountain.” Pa’s words were all but lost in the wind. “Wake Jonathan and unload everything that we can possibly leave behind.”
“Yes, Pa.” Becky hurried to obey.
Out went the extra washtub and the small chest of linens that her mother had so carefully packed for Becky’s hope chest. Jonathan tearfully dumped his precious rock collection, and Becky resolutely removed the extra bedrolls and cooking pots.
“What about these?” Jonathan asked.
Becky turned to see the bucket of lilac plants in the young boy’s hand. “No, not those, Jon!” she cried. “I promised Mama that we’d plant those by our new home.”
Pa put his arm around Becky’s slight shoulders and gave her a hug. “Yes,” he said. “The lilacs stay.”
The sky became an angry black, and the thunder rolled from mountain to mountain.
“We’ll have to stop, Brother Webster,” Jacob called. “The trail will turn into a slippery mud slide as soon as the rain hits.”
Looking around, Jacob spied a level clearing off to the left of the trail and guided the wagon over to it. The other wagons followed.
As if on signal, the rain began. Great, heavy drops splattered here and there at first, then came down in a torrent. The north wind blew, the thunder roared, and the lightning blazed continually across the sky.
Inside the wagon the four shivered as they listened to the storm. Jonathan’s eyes were round with fear and Becky held him close. They could hear trees being split by the lightning, and the wagons creaking with the wind.
Suddenly the tether holding the oxen snapped. The freed animals headed for the meadow below. Pa and Jacob leapt from the wagon. “Stay here with Jonathan, Becky!” Pa called. “Jacob, you go straight down, and I’ll circle around behind them.”
The men disappeared into the driving rain. Becky and Jonathan anxiously waited. Finally the rain began to lessen, and the thunder grew more distant. When Becky peered from the wagon, she saw limbs strewn like kindling and several trees completely uprooted. Although most of the other wagons had come through the storm without serious damage, some of the smaller ones had lost their canvas tops. There was no sign of Pa or Jacob.
Night was approaching, and Jonathan was hungry. “When’s Pa coming, Becky?”
“He’ll be here soon. Don’t worry.” Becky tried to sound calm, but inside she trembled at the thought of a night alone. There were other wagons nearby, but those folks had troubles of their own, and Becky knew that Pa would want her to stay put.
She gave Jonathan some dried beef and tried to bed him down for the long night ahead. It was chilly in the wagon with its damp canvas, and Becky wished that she still had the discarded bedrolls. Finally she managed to get Jonathan to sleep.
Around midnight Jacob returned, leading one of the oxen. “I had a terrible time getting up the mountain in the mud,” he said weakly. “Where’s your father?”
“He hasn’t come back yet. Oh, Jacob, do you think he’s all right?”
Jacob could see the worry in Becky’s face. “He is probably waiting until morning,” he said consolingly. Then he added as he slumped wearily onto the wagon floor, “Be sure to wake me when he comes.”
Morning brought no sign of Pa. Search groups were hastily organized, with Jacob leading the main one. “We’ll find him,” he said, patting Becky gently on the arm. He gave Jonathan a loving hug and was on his way.
At midmorning Jonathan spotted the first searchers returning. “Here they come, Becky. Do you see Pa?”
Becky looked into the bright sunlight and carefully scanned each group as it appeared. The men were downcast and returning slowly. Suddenly she spotted Brother Snow’s brown mare being led by Jacob. Across the saddle, like a huge rag doll, lay the form of a man.
“No! Oh, no!” she cried and broke into a run with Jonathan right behind her.
“Pa, Pa,” Becky moaned. “Oh, Jacob, how did it happen?”
Jacob’s eyes were red with grief. “Lightning.” He held Becky close. “At least it was quick.”
Becky gazed at the stiff form, then quietly slipped to the ground in tears.
Pa was buried near the edge of the small clearing. Becky planted two of the precious lilac plants near the makeshift marker, just as they had planted two on Mama’s grave a few weeks earlier.
Becky stood in the mountain sunshine with Jacob and Jonathan as the simple service was completed. Tears streamed down her face as she held Jonathan’s hand. Jacob’s hand under her elbow steadied her. “Oh, Jacob,” she murmured. “What will I ever do? How can we manage without Pa?”
“Don’t you worry, Becky. I’ll take care of both of you.”
The rest of the afternoon was spent repairing the damage caused by the summer storm. Wheels were mended and canvases tightened. Bedrolls were laid out in the sun to dry.
About dusk one of the scouts arrived leading the other ox. “Found him a good three miles up the trail,” he said.
Jacob gratefully tethered the animal next to its mate. Women from other wagons prepared a dinner from their own precious food stores for the grieving trio.
As Becky helped Jonathan prepare for bed, she watched Jacob build up the fire and check the wagon. We’ll arrive in the valley the day after tomorrow, she thought. She didn’t know what the future would bring, but she didn’t fear. She had faith that Heavenly Father would watch over Jonathan and her. As she carefully watered the remaining lilacs, she thought, Soon we’ll have a home, and these lilacs will remind us of Mama and Papa. She pulled her shawl tighter around her slim shoulders and went to sit with Jacob in the glow of the dying campfire.

I recently read the article titled “Last on the List” in the November 1997 issue. I especially love this article because I can relate to it. I have just been chosen to serve as the new Beehive president in our ward, and I faced the same challenges Lisa did in the story. It was a hard choice because everyone was so perfect for the spots. I prayed and asked my Heavenly Father to help me make the right choices. I was given the answer to call as my second counselor a girl who doesn’t have very many friends. Now I know that she is truly right for the position. Thank you once again for that wonderful message.
Name WithheldUtah

When I was a child, my dad made decisions that hurt our family. After years of prayer, counseling with church leaders, and other resources, my mom filed for divorce.
Despite her struggles, my mom remained faithful in the gospel, and three years after her divorce, she remarried in the temple to my stepdad. They are two of the most Christlike people I have ever known, and I was lucky to be raised by them.
Growing up with divorced parents was difficult. My dad remarried, and I enjoyed spending time with my stepmom and her kids. But even in the best of times, I carried the weight of my family’s situation.
I worried about my future family. I was afraid my marriage would fail and cause me so much pain. This fear made me extra careful when I started dating in high school. I didn’t want my heart broken, which made it impossible to open myself up to people, even to my good friends. When I went to college, I guarded my heart. I was extremely cautious and most of the time never made it past a first date because I was terrified. I thought I would never get married.
My fears about commitment took another bad turn when my dad got divorced a second time.
I was heartbroken by the news. I had suppressed my feelings about my parents’ divorce for most of my life out of love for my dad, but this news made all my anger, sadness, resentment, abandonment, and pain come out.
As I prepared to leave on my mission soon after, I counseled with Heavenly Father to help me let go of the hurt and have hope for a future marriage. I learned that healing takes time and continually seeking the Savior.
I carried that hope of healing with me throughout my mission, and I was blessed to meet people from all walks of life who could empathize with my struggles. These people helped strengthen my faith to trust in what the Savior could do for me.
But then I had a companion I struggled to get along with. After a hard day of disagreements, I wondered if the contention I had with my companion was a sneak peek at my future marriage.
“If she got tired of me in just a few short months, will my future husband dislike me too after marriage?” I thought.
Shortly after coming home from my mission, I remembered what I learned from the wonderful people on my mission. I was hesitant at first, but I relied on the Savior to help me overcome my fears and start dating again. It took some time, but I eventually got engaged to my best friend from high school. He knew everything about me, including my fears and my experiences, and I was overjoyed to be with him.
But I was terrified. He was one of the kindest, most thoughtful people I knew, but I still worried that my marriage would fail as my parents’ did. My faith in an eternal marriage was faltering.
With these thoughts swirling around in my head, I turned to prayer and was prompted to talk to my mom about her experiences. I asked her why it was worth getting married when I could avoid the potential pain by not getting married.
That’s when my mom bore her powerful testimony of the Atonement of Jesus Christ. She reminded me that no matter how we struggle in life, the Savior is always there to buoy us up. If we trust in Him, then we have no reason to fear for the future.
My mom’s advice brought Doctrine and Covenants 6:36 into my mind, which says, “Look unto me in every thought; doubt not, fear not.”
If we live in fear of what could happen, we will never get to experience anything, good or bad. The whole point of being here on earth is to have a body and to be tested, but the Lord also wants us to experience the great joys that He has in store for us.
A few months later as I focused on Christ and pressed forward with faith, my husband and I were sealed in the temple. Even though we have our challenges, we focus on Christ. Keeping Him at the center of my life and my marriage has made all the difference, and I have experienced more joy than I thought possible. My life has gotten better every time that I’ve put my trust in the Lord over my fears.
President M. Russell Ballard, Acting President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, recently taught: “There is hope in the Lord Jesus Christ. There is hope for all in this life. There is hope to overcome our mistakes, our sorrows, our struggles, and our trials and our troubles. There is hope in repentance and being forgiven and in forgiving others. I testify that there is hope and peace in Christ.”1
As we keep our covenants and strengthen our faith in Him, I know that He will bless us. I am so thankful for His Atonement, which has allowed me to heal from my trials and my past, and has given me the strength to experience courage, hope, and anticipate miracles in my future. When we keep Him as our focus, regardless of our fears, we can always have hope for our eternal relationships.