Gospel Story Finder

Later in the evening, everyone in Tyler’s family, except Gena, who was away at college, gathered in the living room.
“Whose turn is it to read from the Book of Mormon tonight?” asked Dad.
Mom said, “We left off with Cherie reading from Mosiah last night. How about if Tyler starts tonight?”
Everyone took a turn reading, with Jason reading last. “The scriptures show what can be accomplished when you have the Lord’s help,” he said. “I mean, look at Tyler. He’s come a long way toward learning to walk, and he couldn’t have done it all by himself.”
Tyler smiled at Jason. “I’m glad I have the help of so many others.”
After Teri (9), one of Tyler’s other sisters, had said the prayer, Tyler hugged everyone, then Jason carried him to their room. “You’re doing great, little brother. And don’t worry—you’ll be playing ball before you know it.”
“Thanks. I just hope it’s soon.” Mom came, helped Tyler change into his pajamas, and kissed him good night. He soon drifted off to sleep.

The first time Kirby Orme of the St. Charles Second Ward really talked to Brandy Easton, he told her the story of Helaman and the 2,000 warriors.
Interesting, she thought, but strange timing. For one thing, she didn’t know Kirby well. For another, she and some friends had just stopped by.
“Somebody asked him about the Book of Mormon,” Brandy says. “And he told us his favorite story. You can’t help but be drawn into it. I was really impressed with that.”
Brandy wanted to hear more. And she liked Kirby’s family. There was something different about them.
“They were so close and they did so many things together. I wanted that for me,” she says softly.
A short time later, Brandy heard some anti-Mormon statements. She went to the Ormes to ask if the things she had heard were true. They gave her a Book of Mormon and bore their testimonies. Kirby’s younger brother Jared also answered a lot of questions over the phone.
“Something was guiding me on. I knew I was doing something right for the first time in a long, long time,” Brandy explains. The Ormes could sense the Holy Ghost at work.
“I knew she was feeling the Spirit,” Jared says. “I knew she would be fine.”
Brandy started taking the discussions. “My parents raised me with strong values, so much of what I was learning was already familiar.” But some things “didn’t make sense at first. I would go home crying, go in my room and pray, trying to understand.”
Finally one night she re-read Moroni 10:4–5 [Moro. 10:4–5]. “I felt calm, though the world seemed in a whirl. The promise came true—the Lord told me the Book of Mormon is true.”
Brandy told her parents she wanted to be baptized. “They said if I felt it was right, I could be. I told them I knew it was right. Before, when I made a mistake, I’d think, oh well, that’s life. Now I try to be an example to others.”
And her example has helped bring one of her best friends, Brandee Carter, into the Church. But that’s another story.

The author lives in Utah, USA.
Photographs by Getty Images
I had just finished breakfast when my stake president called to tell me that my mission application had been denied. My heart sank as he told me why—I needed to lose a certain amount of weight before I would be able to serve. As he explained to me what I would need to do in order to resubmit my papers, the only thing I wanted to do was climb into my bed and hide.
After the shock wore off, I called my dad at work and explained what had happened. He paused and then asked, “Well, what are you going to do?” Would I give up? Let go of my dream to serve a mission? No.
“I’m going to go for it,” I replied. “I’m going to try to lose the weight.”
Within a week, I had a solid plan of action. I learned as much as I could about nutrition and exercise and, after setting some goals, I was ready to get started. I felt so much love and support from my Heavenly Father. I knew that I was doing the right thing and that He would help me every step of the way.
As I worked hard every day, I began to see progress! It was exciting to notice the physical effects of diet and exercise, but what surprised me most was the spiritual health I was gaining. I became more confident and self-aware as I developed into the person Heavenly Father wanted me to be.
I realized that as my spiritual health increased, it actually became easier for me to improve my physical health. The sacrament was so important in helping me stay focused on my goals. It became a sacred time of reflection for me as I thought about my Savior and how much He had helped me on this journey. I knew that He would stay by my side no matter what.
Prayer also made a big difference. There were so many times when I was running on the treadmill and would just start crying because I was so tired and my lungs hurt and I just wanted to go on a mission. I would say a prayer because I knew that someone in the mission field needed me, and I knew that I needed help to get there. After every workout, I thanked Heavenly Father for giving me the strength to go on.
The gospel teaches us that our bodies and our spirits are one, but until this experience, I had never thought about how directly the health of my body could affect the health of my spirit. As I thought about my body as a temple, this connection between body and spirit began to make more sense. I knew that one reason we keep the temple so clean and beautiful is because it helps the Spirit to be there. So it makes sense that as I began to eat healthy and exercise more, I began to feel the Spirit even more.
I also noticed that I felt more energized and more willing to talk to and serve the people around me. I could feel the Spirit guide me as I put my trust in the Lord, and I discovered that I could turn to Him for help with any trial or hardship I might face.
Photograph courtesy of Jillian Pierson
After months of hard work, I finally received my mission call! I was so excited I could hardly wait. And when I entered the Missionary Training Center, I felt prepared both physically and spiritually.
I feel so blessed to have had the opportunity to learn how to take care of both my body and my spirit. Working toward a meaningful goal gave me the motivation I needed to become a better version of myself. I learned that if I rely on the Lord as I try to accomplish my goals, He will help me every step of the way.

My mother tried to teach me when a small child to sing but failed because of my inability to carry a tune. When I joined a singing class taught by Professor Charles J. Thomas, he tried and tried in vain to teach me when 10 years of age to run the scale or carry a simple tune, and finally gave up in despair. He said that I could never, in this world, learn to sing. Perhaps he thought I might learn the divine art in another world. Ever since this attempt, I have frequently tried to sing when riding alone many miles from anyone who might hear me, but on such occasions could never succeed in carrying the tune of one of our familiar hymns for a single verse, and quite frequently not for a single line. …
While listening to Brother Horace S. Ensign sing, I remarked that I would gladly give two or three months of my spare time if by so doing it would result in my being able to sing one or two hymns. He answered that any person could learn to sing who had a reasonably good voice and who possessed perseverance and was willing to do plenty of practicing. My response was that I had an abundance of voice and considerable perseverance. … I would take my first music lesson of two hours upon the hymn, “O My Father.” Much to my surprise, at the end of four or five days, I was able to sing this hymn with Brother Ensign without any mistakes. At the end of two weeks, I could sing it alone, with the exception of being a little flat on some of the high notes. …
One Sunday, at the close of a meeting, upon telling Professor Charles J. Thomas that Brother Ensign informed me that I could sing, he said: “Didn’t you tell him I said no?” I answered, “Yes.” He said, “Why, you can’t even run the scale.” I said, “I am aware of that fact, having tried for half an hour this morning and failed.” My voice at 10 years of age must have made a deep impression upon Brother Thomas, seeing that he had remembered it for 33 years. Noticing that he seemed quite skeptical, I asked him to walk over with me into the corner of the building, so as not to disturb the people who had not yet left the meetinghouse when I sang to him in a low voice, “God Moves in a Mysterious Way.” At the close he said, “That’s all right.”
At the end of two or three months, I was able to sing not only “O My Father” but “God Moves in a Mysterious Way,” “Come, Come, Ye Saints,” and two or three other hymns … (Hymns, nos. 292, 285, 30).
It required a vast amount of practice to learn, and my first hymn was sung many hundreds of times before I succeeded in getting it right.
Today, my musical deafness is disappearing, and by sitting down to a piano and playing the lead notes, I can learn a song in less than one-tenth the time required when I first commenced to practice. …

I have had a special fondness for the Book of Mormon since the days of my youth. When I was young I lived on a farm and spent many days working in the fields. My parents were not active in the Church at that time so we did not read the scriptures in our home. But one day when I was about 12 years old I found a copy of the Book of Mormon in our home and after a morning of working in the hot sun I sat down under the shade of a tree and started to read the book.

I do not remember many things from my youth, but I distinctly remember reading that book for the first time. It was like nothing I had ever read. I felt so good. I did not recognize it at that time, but the Spirit was growing in my heart.

I did not want to stop reading so I found every spare minute to continue. Even with all of my farm chores, I was able to finish reading the book in just two weeks. As a young boy, I knew without any doubt that this book was good and that it contained the pure gospel of Jesus Christ.

That testimony changed everything in my life. I came to know God the Father on a more personal level than I ever had before. He became very real. I came to love our Savior Jesus Christ with a greater purity that I ever had. I loved reading about his experience with the Nephites. Reading the book truly was a turning point in my life. The book has been and continues to be an anchor.

After returning from my mission to Spain, I felt ready for my next step in life. I wanted to experience the Church in a bigger way, beyond the borders of my home in Vienna, Austria, where members are devoted but relatively few.
I felt that I needed to be among like-minded young people at Brigham Young University in Provo, Utah, USA, and I hoped to meet a young woman there whom I could marry and with whom I could start a family. I passed the English language test and was soon admitted. My parents offered to help pay my expenses.
One nagging thought, however, troubled me. I hadn’t consulted the Lord. “Why do I need to ask?” I reasoned. Was I not “engaged in a good cause,” not needing to be directed in all things? (see Doctrine and Covenants 58:26–27). How could heaven possibly object?
But the Holy Ghost kept prompting me, “You need to pray before deciding.” Fully expecting the Lord to approve, I thought, “OK.”
An answer came swift and strong—one of the clearest answers I have ever received. I heard in my heart, “I need you here in Austria to build up the kingdom.”
I put the BYU class schedule away and canceled my plans. I thought about my family, how the Lord had helped us immigrate to Austria from Uruguay when I was young. I realized that maybe the Lord did need me here. With a new spirit, I focused on building the kingdom in Austria, which is drenched in beauty, rich in history, and home to many great musical masters, like Beethoven and Mozart.

I am very grateful to be able to read the New Era. I went to pick up my mail at the mission home today and found out that there wasn’t any mail for me. It’s been over a month since I have had a letter from home, but I was happy to see that my March New Era had arrived. I started reading it while walking down the street, and I walked into a wire that anchored a telephone pole! I read the magazine that day, and before nighttime I had read it from cover to cover. I always used to skip a few articles that didn’t seem interesting, but this time I read every article, and they were all interesting.
Elder Joseph Richard Wright, Jr.Philippines Manila Mission

All the family lifts weights together. Even Megan, the youngest, who is 12, can bench press a little more than she weighs. She blames her brothers for getting her started. And they blame their dad, Dan Brown, for getting them started.

“I was pretty skinny,” Denver says. “I asked my dad what I could do to start looking better and be healthier.” His dad had lifted weights in high school and picked it up again when his children became interested. Denver’s example got his brothers and cousins interested too.

“Denver was doing it, so I started,” says Navaar. “I found out I could break records, so I just went for it.” Navaar, who is 14, holds a national bench-press record for his age group.

The family is careful as they try to stay in shape. They don’t overdo it, and they eat healthily. “Our focus is more on health than on weight lifting,” Denver says.

Holding records in weight lifting is nice, but physical fitness is only part of being balanced. Kristopher, 16, says, “I wanted to be fit so I’d be better able to serve.” Kristopher and his brothers and sister who still live at home are eager to serve, whether it’s babysitting or just helping a friend.

Denver says service is not the only opportunity weight lifting has given him: “Anywhere you excel, people are going to notice, and that will give you missionary opportunities.” Recently at a national meet, a world-class power lifter asked Denver why he wasn’t coming to the next meet. Denver told him about his mission, and the power lifter surprised him by encouraging him to put God first. Denver later told his mother, Tammy, “I could be known as Denver the weight lifter, but I’d rather be known as Elder Brown in Mexico.”

The whole family puts a lot of effort into building their spiritual muscles. “You can’t just work out one day and expect to compete and do well,” says Sam. “Just like you can’t expect to come to church one day and then be ready to go on a mission. It takes time.”

“Weight lifting takes a lot of determination and eating well,” Jake explains. “With the gospel, you need spiritual food, and you need determination to stay with it, because it’s not always easy.”

All the boys have had instances where their physical strength was useless, and they were glad they could rely on the spiritual strength they had built up.

“When my dad had cancer, we weren’t really sure what was going to happen. We prayed a lot, and the Lord helped us through it,” Jake says.

“Prayer always helped,” agrees Sam. “That’s why we did it so much.”

Denver relied on the Lord when his best friend was killed in a car accident. “It took a lot of time and a lot of prayer. That was probably the time when I felt most reliant on Heavenly Father, rather than trying to take care of things for myself, because I felt helpless,” he says.

The whole family needed to rely on the Lord when their previous house burned down a year and a half ago. They’ve since moved to a new town and have made their new house into a home.

One of the family’s favorite scripture stories is of Ammon, a son of Mosiah, going to preach to the Lamanites (see Alma 17–20). Denver is not only impressed by Ammon’s physical strength in defeating those trying to steal the king’s sheep, but he is also impressed by his optimism. “There’s a possibility he’s going to get killed for letting the sheep get scattered, but he thinks, ‘Great! An opportunity!’”

Navaar likes the story of Ammon because even though Ammon was strong, he didn’t boast about his strength. He was still humble and trusted in the Lord. For Navaar, Ammon is an example of living a balanced life.

The Brown family keep striving to have balance in their lives and to support each other, through hard times and easier times. And they keep building up their reserves of spiritual strength because they know that no matter how strong they are physically, the only strength they can truly rely on is the Lord’s.

In my profession as an airline captain one of my routes was from Frankfurt, Germany, to Miami, Florida. On one flight we had completed our departure out of Europe and were on our assigned route for an orderly and safe crossing of the North Atlantic. Our Boeing 747 was cruising smoothly at 33,000 feet. Behind us lay the green coast of Ireland, and only four hours ahead was Newfoundland on the east coast of the North American continent. The planned flight time from Frankfurt to Miami was 10 hours, 16 minutes, and we would cover 4,955 nautical miles. The weather forecast called for an uneventful flight. We had 386 passengers aboard.
While checking the instruments and communicating by shortwave radio with ground control, we saw the contrails of two other jetliners many miles ahead. Obviously, we were faster, and soon we were close enough to recognize the aircraft types and their markings. They were on the same North Atlantic crossing route. One was 2,000 feet above and the other was 2,000 feet below our cruising level. As we slowly overtook those beautiful aircraft, my copilot mentioned how remarkable it was that because of true and accurate information entered into the navigation units at the start of our flights, all three jets were precisely on the same track, separated only by altitude. And we would continue to be so if the crews used identical navigational points leading to the same destination.
As I have contemplated the truth of this statement and its application to our lives, I arrived at the question: Do we all know our destination, and are we on the right track? It is imperative for a pilot to know his destination before submitting his flight plan. Heavenly Father has prepared a flight plan for us that will lead us back to him. We read in the Pearl of Great Price, “For behold, this is my work and my glory—to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man” (Moses 1:39). It is a plan for our happiness.
Before starting a flight, the crew has to be extremely careful and precise in entering the geographic coordinates of the point of departure into their navigational system. This information has to be true and accurate because it will be the basis for all future references and decisions. In 1979 a flight started with wrong coordinates from New Zealand to the South Pole and crashed into Mount Erebus, killing all 257 passengers.
The gospel of Jesus Christ provides the true and accurate information by which to direct our lives. If we let it enter into our system—into our hearts and minds—we will know who we are, where we came from, why we are here, and what our final destination will be. We can communicate with God daily through prayer to update and chart our course. If we have tuned ourselves to the voice of the Lord, we will feel in our heart who we are and that we are here to succeed: “… behold, thou art my son [daughter] … and thou art in the similitude of mine Only Begotten” (Moses 1:4, 6).
I received great comfort and strength as a teenager from the counsel of a young, but wise, missionary. He said to me, “You will succeed as long as you are on the Lord’s side.” Isn’t it even more motivating to realize, and to know, that we are sons and daughters of God the Eternal Father? And through His plan, the restored gospel of Jesus Christ, we know how to get and to stay on the Lord’s side.
On a shortwave radio, frequencies are sometimes crowded. So it is in daily life. Many are competing to get their messages across. We have to train and condition ourselves to hear the still, small voice. We must not give up listening or be distracted because of static on the sacred frequency.
During cruise flight, passengers visiting the cockpit would often ask, “Are you on automatic now?” Well, there is nothing really automatic in a jumbo jet. You have to initiate an action, and then you supervise the results. Like using any computer or the cruise control in a car, giving the wrong input will never get you the desired result: “Garbage in, garbage out.”
To direct your personal flight toward the right destination, the navigational points you choose must comply with your goals. If a crew inserts the coordinates of the track to Chicago, it can’t expect to arrive in Miami. President David O. McKay said, “Next to the bestowal of life itself, the right to direct that life is God’s greatest gift to man” (in Conference Report, Apr. 1950, p. 32). The gift of agency, however, does not release us from the consequences of our behavior. We all have to decide on our own to follow the righteous track in order to reach the great and marvelous destination Heavenly Father has prepared for us.
I found that one of the most important navigational points along this track is personal integrity. Webster defines integrity as an “uncompromising adherence to moral and ethical standards.” Integrity indicates wholeness or oneness. If we have integrity, we are sincere, truthful, fair, and honest. We are true to our covenants. Honesty again embraces many personal virtues: being open, without pretense, upright, frank, genuine, sincere; not disposed to lie, cheat, or steal. Integrity acts somehow like the tuner in that shortwave radio. It helps us hear that still, small voice and really feel that we are children of God.
How can we create integrity in our lives? By internalizing the moral and ethical standards we receive through guidance and clarification from the scriptures and prophets. President Spencer W. Kimball taught, “We must study the scriptures according to the Lord’s commandment … ; and we must let them govern our lives. … Access to those things means responsibility for them” (Ensign, Sept. 1976, p. 5).
If we read the scriptures daily, we receive the messages the Lord has given us through his prophets. Our Heavenly Father is updating the instructions to his children according to their needs and their readiness. From the Prophet Joseph Smith to President Howard W. Hunter, we are receiving guidance customized for our time and its special challenges. Seminary, institute, the booklet For the Strength of Youth, and general conference messages by our prophets are given to us for a purpose.
Once, before approaching Miami, we had to leave our predetermined track to avoid heavy thunderstorms north of our destination. It lengthened our flight a few minutes to keep us from harm. Entering a cumulonimbus cloud is dangerous and can destroy an aircraft. While the sun was setting we were amazed by the beauty of the towering clouds and lightning striking the sea, but we made certain to stay out of their way.
In the Book of Mormon Alma tried to help his son Corianton avoid unnecessary storms by explaining that “wickedness never was happiness” (Alma 41:10). Unfortunately, sin appears occasionally attractive but hides its destructive nature until it is too late and harm is already done. We need to understand how to recognize and avoid the evil and be prepared to detour around it in time. If we do fail, however, there is hope and relief made possible through the atonement of Jesus Christ. Sincere repentance brings us forgiveness and peace in this life and puts us back on course to live again with our Heavenly Father.
My dear young brothers and sisters, let us use our Heavenly Father’s flight plan. With it we will commence our journey based on the gospel of Jesus Christ. By using the scriptures and listening to the living prophets, we will establish integrity as a guiding way point in our lives. This will enable us to stay on the right track and safely reach our heavenly destination.

Within the city of Sete Lagoas, Brazil, is a shelter for women with disabilities whose lives have been affected by drug abuse. Each day they struggled to survive. They had a small oven they used to produce about 30 loaves of bread a day. Though the women had received some aid from a local humanitarian association, they scarcely had enough to feed themselves. When Church leaders from the Sete Lagoas Brazil Stake learned of the needs of these women, they wanted to help.
They spoke with the women about their needs. The women said that if they could produce more bread, they could not only better feed themselves but perhaps could sell a few loaves and earn some desperately needed income.
Church leaders and members worked with the local military police and a local school to improve conditions for these women. With the help of a Church humanitarian grant and volunteers from the Church and the community, they were able to create a new bakery—one that allowed the women to produce 300 loaves of bread daily.
With the proceeds they have received, the women at the bakery have been able to hire their first employee—one of the women at the shelter.

As a new member of the Church, I really wanted to serve because I constantly saw other people serving. I prayed a lot that God would give me someone to serve. One night in a dream, I saw a woman on the subway who needed help after falling off her chair. Later, while my dad and I traveled on the subway, I saw a woman fall off her chair. It was the same woman from my dream! It was a sacred experience for me to be able to help her.
“I prayed a lot that God would give me someone to serve. One night in a dream, I saw a woman on the subway.”

It was in Fayette, New York, that the Church was organized on 6 April 1830. Among the 56 friends and believers who gathered at the meeting was David Lewis, an 11-year-old boy. David said later: “[After the meeting] I went home and asked my mother if she was willing that I join the Church.”

She asked, “What church?” When he told her it was The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, she said, “Yes, David, you can do so if you please, but David, the whole world is against them, including all the good ministers.”

David replied, “I like the way Joseph speaks, he preaches baptism for the remission of sins, the laying on of hands for the reception of the Holy Ghost, etc.”

Only 29 days after the Church was organized, David Lewis was baptized on his 12th birthday by the Prophet Joseph Smith (David Lewis, reminiscence dictated to Andrew Jenson, 10 September 1908, LDS Church Archives; cited in Ensign, September 1978, 26).

I would like to close with an experience that occurred recently.
For three days in a row, my son Duffy (who is our eleven-year-old and plays on the school football team) leaped from some hidden corner of our home to throw a body block on me, in professional style. The last time he did this, in my effort to avoid the attack, I fell on the floor and knocked over the lamp and found my right elbow wedged up somewhere near my eyebrow. I completely lost my patience, and I scolded him for making me his tackling dummy.
His response melted my heart when he said with tears rolling down both cheeks, “But, Mom, you’re the best friend a guy could have. I thought this was as much fun for you as it was for me.” Then he added, “For a long time now I’ve planned what I will say in my first interview as a big time trophy winner. When they ask me how I got to be so great, I’ll tell them, ‘I practiced on my mother!’”

Photograph from Getty Images
When we moved from the United States to Vietnam, my husband and I were determined to never miss church. After a year, we hadn’t missed a single Sunday meeting, but we were frequently late and often missed the sacrament. Our sacrament meeting started at 8:30 a.m. With three little children, getting ready for church on time often seemed impossible.
As a family we decided that we needed to arrive consistently on time for church and partake of the sacrament. It was a struggle, but we made it to church on time four Sundays in a row. I noticed the difference our efforts made. We had more spiritual experiences during the week.
The following Sunday, however, we woke up late. It was already 7:30 a.m. I told my husband that it was hopeless, but then I thought about how we would be blessed if we did our best to get ready anyway. So, we hustled!
By the time we got to church, we were 20 minutes late. I felt that we had failed. We heard singing when we walked in, and when I opened the door, someone was going up to the stand to pray.
“Was that the opening hymn?” I whispered to the missionary standing by the door.
“Yes,” he said. “We started late today.”
I was stunned. I thought we had fallen short again, but we arrived at church just in time! Tears streamed down my face as I felt Heavenly Father’s love for my little family and me.
Later we learned that when the missionaries had arrived at church that Sunday, they realized that no one had brought bread for the sacrament. No store was nearby, and bread can be hard to find in Vietnam. After a momentary panic, the elders remembered they had bread at home.
A few days earlier, the elders had come to our home for dinner. That evening, I had prepared homemade bread for them. Church had started late Sunday morning because the elders ran home to get the bread I had made for them!
God sees our efforts as we strive to keep His commandments. Although we sometimes fall short, He loves us and will prepare ways for us to succeed—even when it is just to get to church on time.

Sister Beck: Last week I was shopping with my granddaughters. I noticed a sales clerk watching our fun. Later I gave her a pass-along card. She told me, “I’m at a point in my life where I’m trying to take charge, and I don’t know how.” So we talked. My closing comment to her was, “If you want this when you’re my age”—and I pointed to my little granddaughters—“you have to be really careful what you’re choosing now. The choices I made at your age determined who I am now.”

Patti Zenger, a member of the Beacon Hill Ward, Beaverton Oregon West Stake, will never forget September 26, 1998.
Patti, partially blind from diabetes, had no idea that Laura Schulthies had organized their ward to “Walk for Patti Z.” in the Vancouver, Washington, 10K fund-raiser.
When Patti got to the church, everyone was wearing red, her favorite color, and had “Patti, We All Love You” signs pinned on them.
“It was so exciting to watch Patti realize how many ward members supported her. Ours was the largest group there,” Laura recalls.

It all started when my dad got an email from a company in Utah. We were going to move there! Everyone in my family was bursting with excitement! At first I was excited too, but when I thought of leaving all of my friends, I was kind of sad about it. Since it was my first time moving, I was sure I was going to miss them. When I told them I was going to move, they were sad too. But they encouraged me that I could do it. This made me feel a lot better. I decided to play it by ear and just believe that I could do it.
The day of the move, I was excited and sad at the same time! But I knew that Heavenly Father had a plan for me, and I would start out fresh. After the long drive, we finally got to see our new home. And after only a few days, I had made two friends already! I felt grateful for all the hard work it took to move. Months later I loved my new friends, my new house, my new school, and my new city. I even discovered there would be a temple built in my new town! I felt glad that I moved and also that Heavenly Father had a great plan for me.

Picture this: You sit down to dinner and look around. Gasp! You’re alone at a table with a half dozen of your past and present school teachers. Sitting next to you is Mr. Randal, your fourth period science teacher, and he’s staring right at you. He wants to chat.
Cringing already? Hey, I am, and they aren’t even my teachers.
There’s just something about teachers that makes most of us nervous (even those of us who no longer have to face their pop quizzes and long-essay finals). In fact, they make us so uneasy that the majority of us go through our junior and senior high years without ever getting to know what our teachers are really like, and most of us never even get to say thank you for all they do.
Two groups of LDS youth in the Boston area are doing something to fix that problem. It’s June 1990, and these New England LDS students are inviting their school teachers to “Appreciation Nights” at their local ward houses. The youth are spending an evening eating with, getting to know, and then saluting their teachers. They hope the time together will straighten out some long-standing misconceptions.
The youth of Nashua, New Hampshire, invite me to watch them set up for the following evening’s teacher appreciation dinner, which sounds about as exciting as watching 18 holes of TV golf. But I put some thought into it: a group of kids who would give up a night of summer fun to set up tables and cook for their teachers can’t be all bad.
I’m right.
Dave Eberhard, 17, a tall guy wearing a little black hat that seems too small for his head, says he’s the master of ceremonies for the big night. He looks like he might be a wise guy, but talk to him for a minute and you’ll find he’s articulate and bright—full of positive energy.
He says this is Nashua’s second year in hosting an appreciation night. “Last year’s dinner changed my relationship with my teachers,” he says. “They had always seen me as a class clown, but after they saw I appreciated them they began to notice how hard I really was trying. They looked at me from a different perspective.”
Dave adds that he learned more about his teachers as well. “I found out more about what really goes on after they get out of school. It’s a one-on-one relationship, and it’s not really school related or church related. It’s just you and the teachers out on the night.”
And according to Dave, the teachers loved the attention. “Some actually cried,” he says.
Elizabeth Davis, 16, sits on the front porch of her Pepperell, Massachusetts, home, her blue-rimmed glasses and baggy sweatshirt set against an old New England backdrop—1990 meets 1790. Elizabeth is talking about teachers. She has definite opinions. She loves her teachers, enough to help organize her ward’s own teacher appreciation night.
“Teachers don’t get a lot of respect,” she says. “That really annoys me. Most of my friends don’t think of teachers as people who are there to help them learn so they can get a good job, do something with their lives. The kids can be really mean.”
But Elizabeth says most of her teachers will go out of their way to help a student in need. She says that one of her teachers goes to a student’s house if that student is sick, to teach the day’s lesson (another scary thought, but kind of nice).
“All I hope is that after this night our teachers say, ‘Wow, our students really think of us.’”
It’s Tuesday night in Nashua. Sixty teachers and their spouses begin arriving at the appreciation night. They’re talking with their students, and the youth are relaxing.
I stop 14-year-old Cyndie Munk and ask her how it’s going. Three or four of her teachers are already here. “The teachers are just so impressed that we want to honor them,” she says, grinning. She sees her vice principal walk in and waves in his direction. “He never gets to do anything,” she tells me. “I gave him his invitation and told him what it was for and he absolutely beamed. Every time I saw him around school he just started smiling, asking if he was still supposed to come.”
The meal is served and Dave, the MC, sits with one of his teachers—Mrs. Rogers. Dave looks uncomfortable, but he gets over it. They chat. It’s fun to watch.
After the meal the bishop gives a “rah-rah” education speech and then the youth hand out certificates of appreciation to their teachers. My hometown newspaper would have written, “And a good time was had by all.”
The teachers are filing out and Cyndie sums up the Nashua evening for me. “My teachers said they’ve never had anyone do anything like this for them,” she says. “But I think they work hard. They give up a lot of their own time for us. I think they deserved this.”
“Two years ago I wouldn’t have done this, invited my teachers,” Jason Hunter, 16, tells me at the Pepperell dinner on Friday. Two of his teachers are here. “I’ve learned some things, though. If I am responsible, if I get my homework done, my teachers treat me differently. I’m sure that if I were a teacher and had a student who wasn’t trying, I’d get mad. The past two years I’ve made an effort in class, and now I think my teachers like me. I make the extra effort to think of them, to say good-bye when class is over, or tell them when I’m interested in something.”
Jason’s friend, Mike Bruneau, joins him. Mike’s 15 and feels lucky to be one of eight LDS students in a high school of 1,200—many of the youth in this area are the only member in their school. Mike says he tries to set an example, do the right things at school, and show respect for his teachers.
“I invited my French teacher, who gave me a lot of help earlier this year,” Mike says. “She just kept saying, ‘Thank you, thank you,’ when I gave her the invitation. I think it really touched her to see that someone cared about the good job she was doing.”
The Pepperell youth take a different approach than at Nashua. The students choose to entertain their teachers with a play and music before they hand out certificates. The play, a comedy about a class who is given a robot teacher to substitute for a human teacher, is a big hit. “Super Teacher,” written by Rebecah Davis, 15, illustrates that for the students, there is no substitute for the individual technique, enthusiasm, and humor of their teachers.
Rebecah says that most of the kids in her ward were skeptical of the appreciation night idea, but the teachers were so excited when they received their invitations that the youth lost their anxiety. “We couldn’t believe how excited our teachers were,” she adds. “Nobody had ever done anything like this for them before.”
“This is what it’s all about,” one teacher says to me, leaning close like he’s sharing a secret. “Knowing that you made enough of a difference for someone to say thank you.”
He returns to a group of other teachers who are standing around, talking with their students. They are laughing about something I can’t hear, but I don’t move closer. There’s something happening there, something kind of nice.
Hints from the New England youth on hosting successful teacher appreciation nights:
Hold the event at a time of year when both teachers and students are not very busy. (Christmas or the end of the school year can be bad times.)
Get the support of your leaders and bishopric before organizing anything. They should have some good ideas, or at least be able to help with the planning.
Invite all your teachers, not just your favorites. If word gets around (and it probably will) that you didn’t invite certain teachers, their feelings could be hurt.
Eating with your teachers, instead of serving them, is a nice way to get to know each other.
Make your program short and focused on the goal of honoring your teachers. (Make them laugh or cry, but stick to the theme.)
Give your teachers a certificate or some other memento of the evening.

I want you to know that one of the most difficult things I ever had to do during my recent deployment to Afghanistan was not weathering incoming rocket fire several times a week, nor was it my involvement with special operations which often put a number of great American serviceman's lives in danger. The greatest difficulty for me came in the confines of my little commander's office in a quiet setting in one-on-one conversations.

It was my responsibility to often review the applications of those who would become members of my interagency team. Nearly every applicant I looked at on paper was a seasoned warrior and a veteran of multiple campaigns with a track record of leadership and courageousness. They were great Americans by any account and wanted to continue to serve in a combat zone—nearly all of them with impressive and particular skill sets. My challenge was to pick the individuals who would make the best fit, because each applicant was more than qualified on paper for the task at hand.

Once a decision had been made and that individual arrived in country, I watched him or her closely for a number of weeks to ensure what I had read on paper matched up with what I was seeing in the field.

However, on a couple occasions after careful observance and thoughtful consideration—from two inches behind my belt buckle if you will, I had to bring a new team member into that little office, thank that individual for his or her service, remind the person that indeed he or she was a great American, and simply mention to that individual that their efforts did not meet the intent of our team nor the ongoing mission at hand. I had to painfully state that I simply could not trust their actions, and that despite a stellar resume that brought that individual halfway across the world for that particular assignment, I could not further endanger the lives of my team and the mission at hand with what I saw. I wished them well, and told the individual to be on the next available flight home. In those few cases, their actions simply did not match up with their resume. I then had to begin a new search for the right person to join the team.

It has been almost a decade since my husband told me he was being investigated for a serious white-collar crime.
For a long time, no one knew what was happening except for our parents, our bishop, and our stake president. Not even our children knew. I felt as if I was living a double life, trying to smile and pretend that my world wasn’t crashing down around me.
Despite the turmoil, I had never felt closer to my Savior than I did during those months. I received a priesthood blessing and learned that I could pray to understand my husband’s feelings and needs. After months of prayer, I received confirmation that I needed to stand by my husband.
After a year of being investigated, we were financially ruined and not sure how to continue paying our legal bills.
I watched as my husband became depressed. He slowly began to shut us out, and he would often comment that he didn’t want to live anymore. Meanwhile, I had to go back to work and try to manage family life. It was overwhelming, and I was scared.
Before the court hearing, we each received priesthood blessings in the bishop’s office and felt peace. It was expected that my husband would be placed on probationary supervision for a short season. But as the judge pronounced the sentence of seven years in prison, I had a panic attack. I literally fell to the floor, and someone called the paramedics. I spent three days in bed after that, worried, scared, and confused.
My husband’s term of incarceration would begin in four months. During that time, our family searched for ways to cope and prepare. I remember how simple things like walking into church caused us debilitating anxiety, as we felt alone.
An inspired stake president started meeting weekly with us to set goals to help keep us from sinking further. Even with the generosity of family and friends, we knew nothing was going to make this go away. I was about to be a single mother! Even after years of living the gospel, I struggled to have faith that I could survive. Negative feelings and emotions flooded my mind. I felt worthless, broken, and alone.
Finally, the time came for my husband and me to travel to the prison where he would be incarcerated. I sobbed uncontrollably watching him walk into that facility. I didn’t know how I would be able to go home to my kids alone.
The challenges of supporting a loved one who is incarcerated seem to be endless. Because of the expense of traveling from our home to the prison, our family was only able to visit him about once every six weeks. After two years, he was transferred to a facility closer to our home, so our visits became more frequent. My children often missed school to see their dad and missed opportunities to be with friends and attend Church activities.
All of this took an emotional toll on the children. Our youngest child constantly worried that something bad was going to happen if he was not with me. He refused to go to activities unless he could call me, and I had a hard time getting him to attend school. He became quite defiant, especially toward his father.
So many life events took place while my husband was incarcerated. Our son got married, a missionary came home, and another missionary left. A child graduated from college, and another graduated from high school. Our first two grandchildren were born.
Going through these milestones alone was difficult. It was hard to keep our marriage intact, and at times even harder to feel close to God. Throughout it all, my children and I did our best to put our faith in God. We regularly attended professional counseling to deal with the anger, depression, and anxiety that came as a result.
The closer we got to my husband’s release date, the more excited and fearful I became. Of course I was excited to see him! But I feared that it would not be easy for him to integrate back into family life after so much time away. Everything that happened before he left came rushing back to my memory, accompanied by all the horrible feelings.
When my husband was released, he spent a month in a halfway house, which limited the time we could spend with him so he could gradually ease back into society. He was then released to home confinement for six months. Finally, he was home!
Since my husband has returned home, every single day has brought new triumphs and new struggles. We call it “cleaning up the debris.” There are still difficult moments, but we love and value each other more than ever. We are quicker to forgive and move on. Our treatment toward each other has improved as we serve each other, show kindness, and say “I love you.”
Meanwhile, we try hard to love our kids through their struggles as they continue trying to heal from this experience. Our family still has a lot of hard and painful work ahead of us. But, with help from God and professionals, we are slowly becoming unified the way we once were.
Honestly, the first six months after my husband returned home were spiritually tough. But now we feel more comfortable at church. We are again teaching the same Sunday School class we were teaching when my husband was incarcerated. Our son is in that class, and it gives him an opportunity to hear his dad’s testimony in a way that he has missed. Some Sundays are still filled with anxiety for both of us, but we are getting better.
We are forever changed. Although we have learned some good things from this experience, which I will describe below, I have to acknowledge that each member of our family is still haunted to some degree by the time my husband spent incarcerated. And we are still burdened by the aftermath of the financial, emotional, and social toll it has taken on each of us. Some days are harder than others. Some days I wonder if life will ever really feel normal. At the same time, I know that through Christ, complete healing and forgiveness are possible.
I’ve gained some things because of this experience. First of all, I have gained lifelong friends who did not allow me to get lost in this trial. I found friends I didn’t realize I had and met new friends who were in a similar set of circumstances.
Also, so much self-discovery happened while my husband was incarcerated. I learned what being committed to an eternal marriage really means. I learned to rely on God, and I gained a better understanding of His timing. I learned He answers prayers in ways that allow me to grow while still giving me light and hope.
I learned I have amazing, strong kids. I learned I can do the unthinkable: not only can I survive in the face of adversity, I can excel. I learned that it does not make me weak to need others. I learned to rely on and ask for priesthood blessings. I learned that no request is too small for my Heavenly Father.
I still have anxiety and am fearful of a lot of things, but every day brings healing. My husband and I have witnessed so many miracles these past eight years. I am no longer angry. I know Heavenly Father has been and will continue to be with us—before, during, and after this trial.
This I know to be true: friends, family, priesthood leaders, and the Lord helped my children and me make it through my husband’s incarceration.