Gospel Story Finder

President Archie Brugger of the San Antonio East Stake in Texas shared an experience worthy of your interest. While he served in the military (in Germany, I believe), a young officer came to him one day and said, “Colonel Brugger, do you know there are only eight straight arrows in our entire company?” A straight-arrow is a soldier who does not have an illicit affair with a woman. He said, “I know you are a straight-arrow and so am I.” A few weeks later this young officer returned again and said, “Colonel Brugger, now there are only four.” It was only a matter of a few more weeks and he returned a third time and said, “Colonel Brugger, there are only two, you and me.” President Brugger said to this young man: “I intend to remain clean. I am a Mormon and I have a wife back in the United States who is keeping herself clean also while I am away. I trust her and she trusts me, and we both honor the teachings of the Church.” The young man said: “You are leaving in six weeks to go back to the United States and I will remain here. I don’t know how much longer I can hold out.” President Brugger said, “My young friend, if I can do it you can do it. The Lord will help you.”

One spring afternoon I was packing my car to begin shuttling my five young children to and from lessons and practices. As I loaded football cleats and dance bags, I noticed a mother duck and her ducklings waddling down the sidewalk of our suburban neighborhood.
As I watched, she began to cross the road. Unfortunately, she chose a gutter grate for her crosswalk, and as she passed over it, her babies followed. Four of her ducklings slipped helplessly between the bars of the grate.
When the mother reached the other side, she realized she was missing some of her little ones and could hear their muffled peeps. Totally oblivious of her mistake, she crossed back across the drainage grate, looking for her missing ducklings and losing two more. With horror and some disgust at her poor judgment, I went to the grate to see if I could lift it. Although I used all my strength, the grate barely budged, and I was late to pick up one of my kids.
Figuring I would have to fix the situation later when I wasn’t so rushed, I hopped in the car while muttering self-righteously, “She doesn’t deserve to be a mother.”
During the next hour and a half, I made many of my recurring parenting mistakes. These are mistakes I have begged forgiveness for many times from both my children and my Father in Heaven. Each time I resolve to do better and not to fall prey to these weaknesses again. When I snapped at one of my kids for teasing another, my words echoed loudly in my ears, “She doesn’t deserve to be a mother.”
Suddenly I felt overwhelming compassion for that mother duck. She was trying to navigate the world with the instincts she was given, just as I was. But sometimes those instincts simply weren’t enough, and it was our children who suffered.
I resolved to get the grate off somehow and lift the ducklings out. As I rounded the corner to our street, I saw a small group gathered. My neighbor had lifted the grate, climbed inside the drainage tunnel, and was gently lifting the ducklings out to safety. The frightened little birds scrambled to find their mother, who was pacing nervously in a nearby bush. She hadn’t asked for help, but my neighbor had stepped in when her protection was simply not enough. I was overcome with emotion as I thought of the Savior doing the same for my children and me.

During a general conference session President McKay told of a personal experience from his life that illustrates this point. He said that he was out hunting cattle and while climbing a steep hill he stopped his horse to let it rest. In his words,

An intense desire came over me to receive a manifestation of the truth of the restored gospel. I dismounted, threw my reins over my horse’s head, and there, under a serviceberry bush I prayed that God would declare to me the truth of his revelation to Joseph Smith. I am sure that I prayed fervently and sincerely and with as much faith as a young boy could muster.

At the conclusion of prayer I rose from my knees, threw the reins over my faithful pony’s head, and got into the saddle. As I started along the trail again, I remember saying to myself, “No spiritual manifestation has come to me. If I am true to myself I must say I am just the same ‘old boy’ that I was before I prayed.” I prayed again when I crossed Spring Creek near Huntsville (with the same result). [Conference Report, October 1969]

Then he added that much later on, when he was in the mission field, a singularly spiritual experience came during the equivalent of a zone conference today. A powerful, unmistakable witness came in answer to his supplication. It came when he needed it, when it was more important to confirm other promptings of the spirit.

Walking home from school is usually not very exciting. Sometimes I think about my math homework, sometimes I think about what we did in gym class, and sometimes I walk without thinking about much at all.
But this day was different. My mind was racing. Ahead of me I could see two of the guys I sometimes played with—Josh and Marcus—making snowballs and pointing at me.
“Hey, David, come here!” Josh yelled, laughing. “We want to show you something.”
Marcus laughed too.
Josh and Marcus were both a year older than me, and they could throw hard. I knew it was only a matter of time before they would start hurling snowballs my way. Even though they were usually nice to me, I thought maybe they had even packed ice into the snowballs.
I started to think of ways I could stop their attack.
Run across the street to avoid them? No, they would make fun of me and call me names.
Run as fast as I could past them? No, they were faster than me and would catch up to me in no time.
Mount a snowball attack of my own? Not a good idea, considering there were two of them and only one of me. They also had the advantage of being at the top of the hill, and I had no place where I could take cover at the bottom.
I decided to do the only thing that made sense—walk calmly past them and wait for the snowballs to fly.
As I neared the hill, a thought came to my mind. I remembered Samuel the Lamanite, who preached the gospel while standing on a wall. When the people didn’t like what he was saying, they threw rocks and shot arrows at him.
I knew the Lord protected Samuel from the rocks and arrows. Perhaps He could make the snowballs miss me.
I said a prayer in my mind, asking Heavenly Father that the snowballs would not hit me. I knew I needed to be brave and not doubt—just like Samuel. As I reached the hill, I felt confident that I wouldn’t get hurt.
Just as I expected, the snowballs began to fly. A couple of snowballs whizzed past my head so close that I could feel the breeze as they zoomed by. Some of the snowballs flew past my arms, and a few landed right at my feet, but none of them hit me. Not one!
The boys kept throwing until I was out of range, but I knew I was safe. The rest of my walk home was not very exciting—and I couldn’t have been happier about it. I had been protected like Samuel the Lamanite. I knew that praying and exercising faith in the Lord had blessed me.

As the sun set on another Sunday in 1948, I found myself walking down the side of the Trent River in Nottingham, England. As a 20-year-old missionary, I had recently been called as district president. It had been a long, exhausting day filled with meetings and ministering, but I was happy and satisfied in the work.
As I walked along the river, I said a prayer in my heart. Hoping to feel some guidance from the Lord, I asked, “Am I doing what You want?”
An overwhelming feeling of peace and understanding came over me. At that precise moment, I came to know that Jesus Christ knew me and loved me. I didn’t see a vision or hear a voice, but I could not have known of Christ’s reality and divinity any more powerfully had He stood before me and called out my name.
This sweet and tender experience has shaped my life. From that day to today, every significant decision I have made has been influenced by my knowledge of the Savior. Over the years and throughout most of the world, I have testified that Jesus Christ is the Son of God, the Light of the World. It is a privilege for us to come unto Him, to follow Him, and to feel His light in our lives.

Sharing the gospel message is one of the most rewarding ways we can render service to those who are not of our faith. I recall a childhood experience with someone I will simply call Uncle Fred.
When I was six years old, Uncle Fred was my worst nightmare. He was our neighbor, and he was always drunk. One of his favorite pastimes was to throw rocks at our home.
Because my mother was a great cook, single adult members from our small branch frequented our home. One day when Uncle Fred was sober, these members befriended him and invited him into our home. This development terrified me. He was no longer just outside but inside our home. This happened a few more times until, finally, they were able to convince Uncle Fred to listen to the missionaries. He accepted the gospel and was baptized. He served a full-time mission, returned with honor, pursued further education, and was married in the temple. He is now a righteous husband, father, and priesthood leader. Watching Uncle Fred today, one would find it difficult to believe that he once brought nightmares into the life of a six-year-old boy. May we always be perceptive to opportunities to share the gospel.

It was going to be a rough night. I figured I had about three hours of homework to do, including chemistry and Spanish homework, which I dreaded. I had just enough time to study, eat, and still get to bed at a (somewhat) decent time.
As I sat down to start my chemistry homework, my mom reminded me that I hadn’t practiced the piano for an entire week and that I needed to get some done tonight. Grudgingly, I sat down at the piano, frustrated because practicing now meant I was going to get to bed a half hour later. I played through some hymns, but I was just going through the motions without really paying attention to what I was playing.
After I’d practiced for a bit, I started to play “Where Can I Turn For Peace” (Hymns, no. 129). It hit me that I was definitely not feeling much peace; in fact, I rather felt like I was going to explode. I realized that if I wanted to feel peace, then I needed to turn to my Heavenly Father and ask Him for help. So I did. After my prayer, the Holy Ghost testified to me so strongly that it brought tears to my eyes.
I continued to play the hymn, but I was now feeling grateful that I could play the hymns and that I could experience the Spirit that comes with them. Afterward, I was able to sit down and finish my homework, eat, and somehow still get to bed around the time that I’d originally estimated.
I know that Heavenly Father was watching out for me, just as He is watching out for all of us. He wants to help us; all we need to do is ask. I am very grateful for my mom and for her reminder to practice that night; otherwise, I may not have experienced my Heavenly Father’s love like I did at that moment. I’m especially grateful for a loving Heavenly Father who knows each of us personally and wants the best for us.

Six weeks later I was baptised and committed to becoming the very best I could be. My testimony was much bigger than my actual knowledge of the gospel, so I was frantically studying and seeking answers. Trying to keep the Sabbath day holy was difficult with a husband who was not a member.
I asked a visiting District Presidency member to give me a list of things to avoid—what I was not allowed to do. He told me to avoid any activity that would pull me away from God. So I asked him for a list of things I must or should do. He told me to do all those things that would help me draw nearer to God.
At the time I didn’t think he was very helpful at all, but keeping the Sabbath day holy isn’t about lists of do’s and don’ts. There is no scorecard where we add up the ticks to pass. For me it is about learning and growing, recharging my spirit and refocussing myself and my life on achieving my eternal potential—striving to become more like the Saviour. This week I may spend six hours working on family history; next week I may lie on cushions in the lounge reading Book of Mormon stories with my granddaughter. The 2-hour church schedule gives us a little more time to work on the areas where we need the most growth. The new curriculum materials are designed to empower us as we teach our families AND strive to perfect ourselves. We all have different strengths and weaknesses, and we’re all at different stages of our development, so our choices will be personal and may be totally different from those of another family.

I’m very happy with my name, Janetta Ann McBride. Brigham Young gave me that name and blessed me when I was a baby. He was one of the elders who visited at my parents’ home in Church Town, England, where I was born on Christmas Eve in 1839. It isn’t everyone who can claim that a prophet gave them a name and a blessing.
My father was originally from Scotland. He came to England for work. There he met my mother and married her. They joined the Church just a few years later.
When I was six years old, my family moved to Island of Bute, Scotland. I at-tended the School of Industry, where I learned how to sew and keep house. I graduated when I was eleven years old. That’s when most children began working to help their family with expenses.
I, too, would have gone straight to work, except I got sick. Instead, I was sent to live with my grandmother by the seashore. It was thought that the sea air would be good for my health. It must have been, because I got well. But Grandmother had a serious accident one day and died. By that time, my family had moved back to England, and I moved there to live with them.
At the age of fourteen, I was apprenticed to a dressmaker and learned how to make beautiful dresses. I worked for her for two years. Then my family made the decision to move to America. Times were hard in England. Jobs and food were both scarce. Also a call had gone out from the Church for the Saints to gather to Zion.
At age sixteen, I was the oldest of the children in our family. Heber had just turned thirteen. Ether was eight, Peter six, and Margaret was still a baby, not quite two years old. We loved the Lord with all our hearts. We had been commanded to gather to Zion, and so we began our journey, one step at a time. Little did we know what would face us on the journey ahead. I think, though, that even if we had known, we still would have gone.
The Church had a special fund at that time that loaned money to members for travel to Salt Lake City, Utah. In 1856, however, there wasn’t much money in it. To cut expenses, it was decided that my family, along with many others, would travel across the plains by handcart. The journey from Liverpool, England, to Salt Lake City would then only cost about forty-five dollars per person—much less than the cost of using wagons and ox teams to cross the plains.
But first we had to sail to America!
I was excited when my family packed up their belongings and headed for Liverpool. It was a great seaport, teeming with ships of every kind. I loved watching the ships being loaded and unloaded with every kind of article you could imagine. Spices from India scented the air. Passenger ships were a hive of activity as their holds were loaded with food and water. There was so much to see!
Our ship was the Horizon, a good ship. We had fine weather all the way across the Atlantic, except for a few days when it was so foggy that we couldn’t even get candles to burn! On June 30, 1856, we safely landed in Boston, Massachusetts. We were thrilled to be in the land where the gospel had been restored!
I don’t think any of us had any idea how big America really was. When we landed in Boston, we didn’t realize that our long journey was just beginning, rather than nearing its end.
From Boston, we traveled to Iowa City, Iowa, by railroad. The new railroad saved us weeks of traveling by wagon. The cattle cars were crowded, but we endured the journey well. The train stopped in Buffalo, New York, on the Fourth of July. We could only watch the people celebrate. How I wanted to join them!
Finally we arrived in Iowa City. From the train station, we walked three miles in rain and mud to the place where we were to meet the Church’s agent in charge of organizing the trek. We had been assured that everything would be ready for us when we arrived, but it wasn’t. The handcarts hadn’t even been built! We camped and worked at preparing for the journey until all was ready.
Eventually the handcarts were obtained, and our family was assigned to Captain Edward Martin’s company. Near the end of July 1856, we cheerfully began our journey to Zion. Our family had three carts when we started out. Each cart could carry about 120 pounds of baggage, 100 pounds of flour, cooking utensils, and additional food. There were 576 people in our company. I’d never been with so many members of the Church!
Pulling the handcarts wasn’t bad at first. But many of them broke down because they were built of green wood. We pulled those carts three hundred miles to Florence, Nebraska. The last members of our company, and the Willie company, arrived there on August 22. As soon as we arrived, there was some disagreement as to whether we should continue on. Some said that it was too late in the year. They felt that we should set up a winter camp in Florence and wait until spring to travel to Salt Lake City. But most of the Saints were for starting immediately. After much discussion, it was decided to continue on. We were anxious to finish our long journey. About a thousand miles remained ahead of us, but we had already come so many miles that another thousand seemed like a short trip. We didn’t know that the worst part of our journey was still ahead.

I remember thinking as a young boy, "I wish I could be like these men someday. I wish I had their great strength, courage, and conviction." I had absolutely no idea how someone would gain such things and it was difficult at the time to see myself ever having these virtues because I was a somewhat anxious child. When I was in first grade, I was afraid to play kickball with the other kids because I feared I might make a mistake and everyone would laugh at me. So I timidly stayed on the sidelines and just watched the game each day. My mother learned about this and explained to me that, if I just had the courage to try, she knew I would be able to succeed. Those words of encouragement, and the promise of a substantial cash bribe, convinced me to give it a shot. As you can imagine, I quickly learned that my mother was right. Having the faith and courage to act, to try, to do something difficult rather than sit on the sidelines of life was an important lesson that I have never forgotten and have needed to revisit when facing things much more terrifying than a kickball game.

This was the greatest lesson I learned as a missionary in Argentina many years ago. Throughout my mission I did my best, and we were blessed with success, but my first year was different from my second year. The first year my motives were not completely pure. I wanted to lead the mission in baptisms, to move up the mission ladder, and to impress others. Thankfully, I was matched with a more consecrated companion, who showed me how to love and enjoy the people more, how to serve them with heart and soul, and how to forget myself and go to work with love. My focus and motives changed—I truly got a new heart—and I came home different than when I left.

Here's an example you may relate to. Years ago I was called away from my home ward to serve on this campus. A week or so after being set apart, a sister came in for an interview and expressed some concern about a calling she had received at the beginning of the semester. As I recall, she said something like this: "I came here to Ricks College and was excited to participate and serve. When the bishop called me into his office, I knew he had a calling for me, and I secretly hoped that it would be something that stretched me and helped me to get to know people. As it turned out, my calling was to be the centerpiece coordinator in Relief Society. I've been doing it, but I know it's not important and no one really cares. What do I do?" First of all, I had no idea what a centerpiece coordinator did. It wasn't in the handbook, and there was no manual I could give her. She explained that she was to call the teacher each week, find out what the lesson topic for that Sunday was, and then create a centerpiece befitting the lesson. We don't do this in priesthood meeting because if it's on the table and it's not edible, the brethren don't care. (Although I did Google "LDS centerpieces" the other day, just for fun, and saw an orange Powerade bottle that said, "Orange you blessed to have the priesthood "Power" to "Ade" you in your life?")

Anyway, regardless of how you feel about the need for centerpieces in our meetings, this good sister felt underwhelmed, and questioned how much she was worth to the Lord. I can't remember exactly what I said to her then, but I have some counsel for any of you, students and faculty alike, who may be struggling with similar feelings now.

This advice was found and followed by Joe, who had been asked to get up at six in the morning and drive a crippled child 50 miles (80 km) to a hospital. He didn’t want to do it, but he didn’t know how to say no. A woman carried the child out to the car and set him next to the driver’s seat, mumbling thanks through her tears. Joe said everything would be all right and drove off quickly.
After a mile or so, the child inquired shyly, “You’re God, aren’t you?”
“I’m afraid not, little fellow,” replied Joe.
“I thought you must be God,” said the child. “I heard Mother praying next to my bed and asking God to help me get to the hospital, so I could get well and play with the other boys. Do you work for God?”
“Sometimes, I guess,” said Joe, “but not regularly. I think I’m going to work for Him a lot more from now on.”

Part of being worthy to enter the temple is obeying the Word of Wisdom. Seth Robinson, a teacher from Reno, Nevada, decided to share the benefits of the Word of Wisdom as part of his Eagle Scout project.
Seth—at left with fellow Scouts Greg Handlon and Caleb Sumrall—set up a display on the dangers of tobacco in a busy shopping mall near his home. He then talked specifically to teenagers walking through the mall, answering questions and distributing information.
“Meeting with the general public made me aware that many people think the use of tobacco will not harm them,” says Seth, who spent a lot of time telling people that nothing could be farther from the truth. “I think this project was a success.”

For 67 years, Marjorie Pay Hinckley kept pace with her husband, President Gordon B. Hinckley, as he traveled the world. On 6 April 2004, her mortal journey ended. Surrounded by family and loved ones, Sister Hinckley quietly passed from this world to the next due to causes incident to age. Born on 23 November 1911, she was 92.
Often expressing surprise at the course her life had taken, Sister Hinckley often joked, “How did a nice girl like me end up in a mess like this?” In an interview with Church magazines several months before her death, Sister Hinckley said, “Well, it turned out better than I expected. It has been a good life.” Known for her caring heart and quick wit, she told Church magazines, “If we can’t laugh at life, we are in big trouble” (see “At Home with the Hinckleys,” Liahona, Oct. 2003, 32–37; Ensign, Oct. 2003, 22–27), and at her funeral services she was eulogized as “charity personified.”
As evidence of the countless lives she touched, thousands attended a public viewing, some of them standing in line outside on a blustery spring day for more than three hours. Thousands attended the funeral held in the Tabernacle on 10 April, and tens of thousands more watched on television and by satellite broadcast.
“She conversed with kings and queens. She loved little children,” President Thomas S. Monson, First Counselor in the First Presidency, said of Sister Hinckley’s ability to relate to people from all walks of life. “There was no flaw in her character. … Like the Master, Marjorie went about doing good.”
“She had such a good life,” said President James E. Faust, Second Counselor in the First Presidency. “All of us would benefit from following her faith, commitment, and devotion.”
During the funeral services, the Hinckleys’ five children—Kathleen, Richard, Virginia, Clark, and Jane—shared quotes from Sister Hinckley and gave expressions of gratitude to their mother. Clark Hinckley read a letter written by President Hinckley to his wife after nearly 60 years of marriage. “My darling, … I have known you for a long time … and it has turned out as I had hoped it would. … Now we have grown old together. … And when in some future day the hand of death gently touches one or the other of us, there will be tears, yes, but there will also be a quiet and certain assurance of reunion and eternal companionship.”
Sheri L. Dew, former member of the Relief Society general presidency and biographer of President Hinckley, said that while 12 million members together cannot take Sister Hinckley’s place, each would be praying that President Hinckley would have the strength to carry on. She said that each member would try a little harder in order to ease the prophet’s burden.

Cody Cart knew when he was only four years old that he wanted to be an astronaut. He had a little bank shaped like a spaceship that he put his tithing money in, and each time he dropped in a penny, a light would go on as if the rockets were firing. As he grew older, his school friends kidded him about being a spaceman, but Cody was serious. Those were the days of the birth of the manned space program, and he listened to every minute of every flight.
Naturally, his twin interest was astronomy. He received a telescope for Christmas and began getting up at 3:00 or 4:00 in the morning to look at the stars. “The night sky always fascinated me,” he said. “The whole universe is God’s creation, but we don’t know very much about it. I have often thought that if there were another frontier left, I’d be out exploring it. But the only one left is outer space, and there’s only one way to get there—by becoming an astronaut.”
In school, Cody took all the science and electronics classes he could. “I didn’t think electronics had much to do with space exploration, but dad suggested it, and I loved it!” He became a finalist in a statewide electronics competition.
Part of Cody’s goal to become an astronaut included a goal to become an Air Force Academy cadet. As he progressed through high school, he counseled with his father and mother and prayed about each step along the way. He had three great goals in life. The first was to keep all the commandments of his Father in Heaven. The second was to serve a full-time mission. “All my life we have talked about a mission and the things pertaining to a mission. It was never ‘if you go on a mission’ but always ‘when you go.’” The third great goal was temple marriage.
“Every night before we went to sleep, mom or dad would come around to our beds and ask each of us in turn, ‘What do you want out of life? What do you want to do? What do you want to be?’ Those goal-setting sessions really helped me keep my head on straight. Every night I said those three things and sometimes others—like the astronaut plans—but always those three. We would talk about what I needed to do to achieve those goals, and then we would talk about any problems or questions I had.”
But two of Cody’s goals conflicted with each other. To go on a mission, he would have to resign from the academy after his first year—there was no such thing as a leave of absence for a mission. If he left, he was probably out of the program. To get back in, he would have to be renominated, and the mere fact of his resignation might work against him. What were the odds?
The preparations continued. Cody ran four or five miles each night to condition himself. As a junior, he spent one whole day taking college entrance exams, including the ACT (American College Test), SAT (Scholastic Aptitude Test), an Air Force engineering aptitude examination, and a physical fitness test. He was also interviewed and appraised for leadership potential.
The first year at the academy wasn’t spent just waiting for a mission call. “It was hard,” he remembers. “After the first four months I started asking myself ‘Is this what I want to do in life?’ But then I would think back to the confirmations I had received through the Holy Ghost. I knew I was doing things, as President Kimball says, in their proper season and order, and I prayed, and the plan was reconfirmed. I knew I was right where I should be, and that really helped me.”
As the first year drew to a close, Cody had to reaffirm in his own mind his decision to go on a mission. To survive the toughest year in the academy and then give it all up took a lot of courage. And it might also mean abandoning his lifelong dream of becoming an astronaut. “But I had already made the decision to resign eight years earlier. I had no doubt what I was going to do even though I agonized over it.”
In March, during spring break, Cody had his mission interviews with his bishop and stake president. At the end of the summer, following SERE training (survival, evasion, resistance, and escape), he resigned. As with any cadet who asks to leave the academy, he was sent to interviews with several different counselors and officers.
“All of them would drill me at first,” Cody said, “but as soon as I told them my reasons for resigning, their attitude changed. They all expressed their respect for the LDS people they knew, and when I told them I was going to try to come back, which was something of a shock in itself, they said fine.” His written statement included a full explanation of what a mission is and why he wanted to serve a mission.
The officer who had to sign the paper as a witness commented, “I’ve never read anything like that before in my life. Is that really what you believe?”
“I sure do,” Cody replied.
“A lot of them didn’t understand,” Cody explains, “but they accepted my explanation. They were feeling something they’d rarely felt before.” In May Cody received his call to the Switzerland Zurich Mission. He entered the Missionary Training Center in August. Concentrating on studies was second nature, and obedience was ingrained. “I wanted to use my time wisely because I knew I was paying a price for my mission,” he said.
At first the thought of not being readmitted hung over him, but the time finally came when he stopped worrying and left it in the hands of the Lord. Besides missionary work presented its own challenges. “For the first six or seven months, I found myself going through the motions. I knew the Church was true and that the work was important, but I didn’t love it as I should. My academy experience came to my aid. I was used to doing difficult things. I worked hard and prayed every day that the work would become a joy instead of a burden. In the course of about a week, the whole thing turned around. Suddenly I was happier; I was working out of desire, not just duty. I knew my mission would be worth it even if I never got accepted back into the academy.”
Then a letter from home told Cody that Ted Parsons, another cadet who had resigned from the academy to serve a mission, had been readmitted! Maybe there was a chance after all!
Cody took the necessary exams at a U.S. military installation. “My mission president gave me a blessing. He told me I had served an honorable mission and that the Lord would help me accomplish what I needed to.”
Shortly after the blessing, Cody had a head-on bicycle collision, shattering his nose on the handlebar. “Qualifications at the academy are stringent. With an impact like that you would normally lose pilot qualification. If I had hit my eye or forehead or even my teeth, it would probably have disqualified me.” Cody is convinced he was protected.
When the test results arrived, they showed a score higher than the first time Cody applied for admission, which was advantageous because the competition was tougher.
“I had done everything I could. I made sure my end of things was in order. I wasn’t expecting the Lord to meet me more than halfway. Then I left it up to him,” Cody said.
Cody was renominated by his state senator. His faith had paid off. Two weeks after returning from Switzerland and two years after leaving Colorado Springs, Colorado, Cody Carr entered the Air Force Academy once more. His dream of being an astronaut was fully intact, along with his other goals of keeping the commandments, marrying in the temple, and being a lifelong missionary.

As a teenager, I especially liked driving the furniture delivery truck. One evening when I was backing the truck out of the driveway to go back to the store, I came to a sudden stop accompanied by a loud crash. I pulled forward and then backed up only to crash again. When I got out to inspect, I discovered that I had left the tailgate down, and it had punctured the door of a car parked across the street from our driveway. When I had pulled forward and then backed up to see what had happened, I had crumpled the fender of another car. I waited until I got home later that night to tell my dad and was relieved that he only gave me a stern talking to rather than a licking. Actually, I think he was pleased that I had told the truth.

Patience is an important part of missionary work. Both Cindy, 15, and her sister Tina Doxstater, 14, were involved in Church activities for two years before they were baptized. Cindy explained that she was impressed by the closeness of Mormon families and by the Church activities that her friends took her to. But she wasn’t ready or sure about making a commitment.

“The members of the Church accepted us for what we were,” she said. “They didn’t push, and that helped.” Cindy’s friends didn’t give up on her. When one of them said, “Why don’t you take the missionary discussion?” She said, “Yes.” With the encouragement of their friends and a science teacher at school, Cindy and Tina were baptized this year. The science teacher, Larry Anderson, baptized them.

This story took place in the Philippines.
Spencer heard the door open. His dad was home! Dad’s arms were full of groceries from the store.
Dad put the bags down and gave Spencer a hug. “I’m happy to see you!”
Mom pointed at a big box Dad had brought in. “What is that?”
“I saw a box of face masks on sale,” Dad said. “I had a feeling we could use them.”
Spencer was confused. Why would they need so many face masks now?
A week later, Spencer came home from school with his siblings. When they went inside, Mom was organizing piles of things all over the counter.
“Mom, what are you doing?” Spencer’s brother asked.
“I’m replacing the supplies from our emergency bags,” Mom said. “I saw them on the shelf today and thought I should check them. This food is almost five years old! Will you help me?”
Spencer and his siblings helped Mom put water bottles and packages of food in the bags. Then Spencer helped Mom put them back on the shelf. They were heavy!
They put the box of face masks on that shelf too. After a few days, Spencer forgot all about them.
A few months later, when Spencer and his family came out of church, there was dark, thick air all around them. They coughed as they rode the jeepney home.
When they got home, Dad turned on the TV to see what was happening. The family gathered around to watch.
“Taal Volcano started erupting ash today,” the reporter said. “The ash is dangerous to breathe. Please wear a face mask. Everyone should stay home tomorrow.”
Spencer looked around at his family. Everyone was surprised.
“Oh!” Mom said. “That box of face masks!”
Dad grinned. “I knew there was a reason I bought them!”
“Dad, did you know the volcano was going to erupt?” Spencer asked.
Dad shook his head. “No,” he said. “But Heavenly Father did. And He sent the Holy Ghost to tell me to buy the face masks. We have plenty to share with others too.”
“And I think the Holy Ghost gave me the idea to check our emergency bags,” Mom said. “Now we will have plenty of water and food while we are at home waiting for the ash to clear.”
Spencer felt warm inside. The air was dark, but their home was safe, and they had what they needed. He knew Heavenly Father would keep helping them. Spencer was glad his family listened to the Holy Ghost!

“Before we went to the temple, it was like we had cut an apple and it was apart. But then when we went through the temple, it was like the apple went together.”
That’s how nine-year-old Amanda Baum described her family after they were sealed in the Salt Lake Temple last February. She said that they are closer now because they talk with one another and share their feelings more than they did before. Her parents agreed, saying that their home is more peaceful and that the children seem more special to them now.
For a long time the Baum family—Brandon (12), Amanda (9), Laura Lee (7), James (3), and their parents, Terry and Karla—had been working on their goal of going to the temple to be sealed. It wasn’t an easy goal, but something happened that made them realize just how important that goal was.
Preparing for the special day meant that they had to start doing things like praying more, both individually and as a family, and paying their tithing. Now prayers are a very important part of their day, and the children are usually the first to volunteer for family prayers. Another big help was the encouragement that they received from their bishop and home teachers.
Brandon admitted that at first he was a bit nervous when the day finally came to go to the temple, but they all agreed that they felt a loving spirit and were very happy to be there.
It is hard to imagine how something can go on forever and ever, but Brandon said that as he looked into mirrors in the sealing room, he saw his family reflected there in a never-ending line for as far back as he could see. That gave him some idea of what eternity is all about.