Gospel Story Finder

When I was 15 years old, my parents were hit by a drunk driver on their way to the Los Angeles California Temple.
When my brothers and I arrived at the hospital, we were informed that my dad had already passed away and that my mom had suffered massive traumatic injuries.
My mom ended up surviving, but her life was nothing like the one she had before. After the accident, she was no longer able to move, speak, eat, or drink. For the next 18 years until her passing, she lay in a hospital bed, staring at the ceiling, or propped up in a wheelchair.
For years, I thought it was my unrighteousness that had caused my parents’ accident. I had the mistaken belief that I had done something wrong to incur the displeasure of a wrathful God upon me. I thought that no matter how hard I tried, God was against me, and I was doomed to a constant state of misery.
That was the story I told myself, and it was extremely destructive. That narrative colored the way I viewed everything in life.
Like Laman and Lemuel, I also told myself a false narrative for a long time. I believed I had been wronged and robbed, mainly by God. I had sought my whole life to do the right things and felt I was being presented with one trial after another. I too felt angry.
I lived with this perspective until a friend explained to me that we all suffer and said that I should consider how I am labeling my suffering.
My first impression was, How dare he? How could he understand what I had been through?
But then my thoughts slowly changed, and I felt embarrassed at the rage I felt as I pondered.
I wondered: Do I really think Heavenly Father is punishing me? Do I think everything in life is unfair? Do I only focus on my suffering and nothing else? Do I see the world like Laman and Lemuel did?
Hoping to better understand my mindset and the narrative I had been telling myself, I started writing. I wrote and rewrote my life story, exploring different life choices to see what might have happened if the accident that transformed my life hadn’t occurred.
As I looked back on my life and considered alternative paths, I realized that if I had been able to pursue my own interests, I likely would’ve gone down some wrong paths and may not have gained the strong testimony that I have today. As extremely hard as it was to go through the experiences I did, I wouldn’t have gained the strength, courage, and faith in Jesus Christ that those years of hardship had developed.
Due to my parents’ accident, I was forced to make critical, life-altering decisions at a young age that caused me to stay true to Heavenly Father. And though I chose Him over and over again, I was furious about it because I thought He was being unfair and punishing me.
However, after 20 years, when I decided to stop kicking and screaming and told myself a new story, I started viewing myself through the eyes of a loving Heavenly Father. I realized Heavenly Father would guide me in and through tragedy. Knowing this gave me great hope and confidence in Him and how I could live my life. If I was on Heavenly Father’s side, then who could be against me? (see Romans 8:31). With this perspective in mind, I started to make changes, and my life got infinitely better in numerous ways—and with surprising speed:
I began to love, support, and care for myself as a loving parent would.
I made it a daily practice to exercise, journal, and immerse myself in the scriptures.
I sought meaningful relationships that brought connection and community into my life.
I met with a therapist to better understand myself and the consequences of my choices.
I developed my talents and pursued my goals.
I served others and attended the temple often.
I stopped blaming God and others for the circumstances of my life and started taking responsibility for them.
I woke up each morning excited to start the day; life became joyful.
I have experienced change firsthand through the actions I’ve taken. As I have relied on the Savior, He has helped bring true joy into my life.

I had a wonderful summer job as a high school student. I worked for the Salt Lake City & County Parks and Recreation Department. My job, along with my fellow co-workers, was to drive around to all the parks in the Salt Lake Valley and play games with the children in the surrounding neighborhoods. Our games were very low-tech. We would bring along large parachutes, balls of all sizes, Frisbees and other such basic items. As I worked over the summer I began to notice some interesting patterns. When we would show up at a park located in a lower-income neighborhood, the kids would flock to our activities and a great time would be had by all. However, when we would show up in a high-income neighborhood, we were not very successful in enticing the children out of their homes and those who did show up soon became very bored with our planned activities. These children were very hard to engage, they proved more difficult to manage and were not easily entertained by our simple methods.

I came to learn that those who could afford the latest and greatest amusement devices were less inclined to be amused or drawn into simple play and interaction than those who could not afford such luxuries. This was an important lesson for me to learn as a teenager and something that I have not forgotten as I have raised my own children.

When I was early in my graduate studies at a venerable Midwestern research institution, I passed a prominent inscription that stopped me in my tracks:
Whatever may be the limitations which trammel inquiry elsewhere, we believe that the great state University of Wisconsin should ever encourage that continual and fearless sifting and winnowing by which alone the truth can be found.
I knew the plaque was not intended as a religious message, but it resonated with my religious self. “Truth” named a quest that I had long invested in, and I came to feel quite at home in that secular university community.

The big day Neal was waiting for finally arrived. All week long he had anxiously watched his dad build a tree house for him, and now it was almost finished.
“Can I sleep in it tonight, Dad?” Neal asked, dancing around the tree trunk while waiting for the answer.
The door of the tree house opened and his dad, crouching low, came out and climbed down the ladder. “Well, it’s done,” he said, collecting his tools. “Do you think you’re ready to sleep up there?”
Neal’s face lit up. “I sure am. Can I?”
“I guess a boy who has just turned seven is big enough to sleep out all night,” Dad answered. “Get your sleeping bag and whatever else you need and then wash up for supper.”
After Neal finished eating, he rushed out and climbed up into his tree house. What a great place! he thought. When Neal looked out of either window, he could see the branches waving in the gentle breeze. He rolled his sleeping bag out on the wooden floor and plumped up his pillow. He was set!
To help pass the time until darkness and bedtime, Neal played in the sandbox that his dad had made under the tree house. Long shadows crept across the grass as he finished making the last road for his small cars. By the time he had all his things put away, the sky had darkened, and a few stars were blinking brightly.
Neal crawled into his sleeping bag and zipped it up halfway.
“You all settled?” Dad asked, opening the door a crack.
“Yeah, Dad,” Neal answered. Even though he was happy to finally be sleeping in his tree house, he felt lonely when Dad left. Soon his eyes became used to the dark and he could see the shadows of the trees dancing on the inside walls of his house. Neal played a game, trying to find the shapes of animals in the strange shadows. But before long his eyes became heavy and he drifted off to sleep …
During the night Neal was awakened by a loud clatter. His blue eyes widened with fear as he lay still, waiting to hear the sound again. Then he heard a garbage can rolling around in the wind. The tree house creaked.
“Whew!” Neal said, crawling further into his sleeping bag. “It sounds like a storm coming.”
The rain began to pound on the roof and against the windows. And the tree branches scraped the sides of the tree house, making a scratching sound.
Neal huddled in his bag and wished he were in his own bed. But he was too frightened to climb down the ladder and run to the house that seemed so far away.
Neal’s ears perked up when he heard a new sound. One of the boards on the ladder was creaking. He saw a yellow light bobbing through the window. Neal’s eyes darted from the light to the door. It rattled slightly and slowly began to open.
The frightened boy scooted back into the corner, his sleeping bag pulled up to his chin, a scream frozen in his throat. Through the opening door appeared a bright light. Then, with relief flooding over him, Neal saw it was only a lantern, and Dad’s smiling face was behind it.
“Hi, Neal,” Dad said. “I couldn’t sleep in the house so I thought I’d come out here. Do you mind?”
Neal smiled. “Nope, I’m glad you came,” he replied and slid his bag over so Dad could spread out his sleeping bag.
The lantern’s soft glow made everything in the tree house look friendly and safe. The storm seemed less scary as the two slid down into their bags. They could still hear the rain beating on the roof, and Neal said, “That storm is really loud, huh?”
“Yeah,” his dad answered. “I like to be with someone when it’s storming, don’t you?”
But Neal only mumbled an answer, “Uh huh,” because already he was drifting off to sleep, snuggled up next to his dad.

More than a decade ago a major in the U.S. Air Force told of his test flights. He was born of goodly parents who taught him righteousness. He had flown 25 different types of military aircraft in 4,000 hours in the air. He had flown 142 combat missions in Korea and had received many distinguished medals. He told us that “before takeoff every pilot takes a few moments to make a last-minute check of his engine, flight controls, hydraulic and pneumatic systems and other essential subsystems of his aircraft to be sure the flight can at least begin safely. … His reactions to emergency conditions must be instinctive and as infallible as human thought and reflexes permit.

“… Yet, there is something missing on the printed checklist which to me has become as necessary to a successful flight as lowering the wheels for a smooth landing. It is a prayer to ask my Father in heaven to bless me that my best judgment and skill will guide my actions, especially in periods of stress. There have been several instances … in which I know the answer to this prayer has been received with dramatic suddenness. …”

It was a cold winter day at Utah Lake, and my dad and I were on the shore looking at the ice that had frozen on the water. My dog Suni got a little too curious and ran out on the lake. Suddenly the ice broke, and Suni fell into the water. We didn’t know how to get Suni back to shore. I was afraid she would drown, so I said a little prayer in my heart for help. Right then an idea came to me. I should throw rocks into the water to break the ice so Suni could swim to shore. The idea worked, and Suni swam quickly to shore. I am grateful for the gift of the Holy Ghost. The Spirit guided me in saving the life of my dog.Bryson P., age 11, Utah

I staggered away from the table saw, my ears ringing, my stomach churning. Warm blood reached my elbow and flowed to the sawdust-covered cement floor, but I dared not look at the hand. With the palm of my undamaged hand, I cradled the mess, terrified at the sight of the red blood, white bone, and yellowing skin.
“Tim, what happened? Tim? Tim!”
I heard a voice yelling my name. It was Jeff, the only other person in the shop, and out of blurring vision I saw him running toward me.
“Go. Go get help! Call an ambulance! Hurry!” I screamed out to Jeff, and he ran out a side door.
Now alone, I lay on a large roll of plastic to stave off the dizziness I started to feel. I had just finished a year of college and landed my dream job—working for the U.S. Forest Service in the remote mountains of southwestern Colorado. Not only that, but a week before I had received my mission call to Melbourne, Australia. I was to finish my summer job in Colorado, then report to the Missionary Training Center in Provo, Utah.
Where are they? I wondered. I started to get up, thinking I would go outside, get in the truck, and drive myself to the hospital. With dizziness fast returning, I lay back down on the slippery plastic and closed my eyes. Soon I heard the wail of an ambulance.
“He’s in here.” I recognized Jeff’s voice.
Opening my eyes, I saw Jeff and a uniformed man and woman from the ambulance standing over me. Almost simultaneously, the man grabbed my cut hand and the woman took my pulse on the other arm.
“You’re going to be all right,” he said as my hand was surrounded with white gauze. I was glad the wound was no longer my responsibility and was relieved the injury was out of view.
“How old are you?” The woman now spoke.
I whispered the answer. My throat was dry, making it difficult to speak. She asked more questions about allergies, past medical problems, and current medications I was taking. I responded quickly until she got to her last question.
“What family member do you want me to call that can come to the hospital?”
I thought of my family, more than 600 miles away. Mom would be eating lunch at work and Dad would be sleeping after working a graveyard shift as a security guard. My younger sister, Erin, would be in school.
“Tim?”
“There isn’t anyone that can come now. I don’t have any family in Colorado,” I replied. As they lifted me into the ambulance and drove toward the hospital, I remembered times that summer when I hiked into isolated wilderness areas to repair eroding trails and didn’t see anyone for days. When I came back into town, I always felt detached and alone, the way I felt now.
“Tim.” It was the woman from the ambulance. Her voice sounded distant. She continued, “Is there someone else I could call—like a minister or a priest?”
I thought of the small branch in Gunnison. The members had been friendly to me during the past few months, but as an outsider, I didn’t want to bother them with this problem. I looked down. The blood had saturated through the white gauze. I winced when I thought of the ripped flesh inside.
“Phone Willy Akers or Bud Smith,” I said at last. President Akers had just been called as branch president, and Bud Smith was his counselor.
“I know Willy. I’ll call him when we get inside,” she said with assurance.
The ambulance was stopping in front of the small hospital. I saw the doctor at the door waiting for me to be wheeled inside. Once inside, I looked around at the small emergency room as they placed me on an examination table and started an IV. The doctor spoke calmly to the nurse as he unwrapped the dark, red gauze. I looked away.
Finally, he finished and directed the nurse to wrap it again. Without a word, he left. I could hear his voice on a telephone in the next room and knew he was speaking about me. He stopped talking after a few minutes and entered the emergency room.
“Tim,” he started, speaking slowly, “you’ve cut yourself pretty good, and I don’t have the equipment or expertise to do much for you. I just called for a helicopter to fly you to a limb preservation unit at a hospital in Denver. They will do everything they can to save it there. Meanwhile, I’ll give you some pain medication to make things more comfortable for you on the way. Do you have any questions?”
I managed a weak no, then thought about what he had just said. The words “save it” kept repeating themselves. I had never had a cut that required more than a few stitches, and now I was faced with the possibility of losing my hand.
“It’s a good thing this happened while I was home for lunch or you wouldn’t have caught me,” President Akers said as he entered the small room. Brother Smith followed close behind. “They tell me you get to go on a long helicopter ride too.” I nodded, too weak to speak.
“Would you like a blessing?” Bud asked. I nodded again, and in the curtained partition of the two-bed emergency room in a small hospital, I was promised two things: my hand would be all right, and I would be able to fulfill my mission to Australia. President Akers went back to work, and Brother Smith stayed with me until I was loaded on the helicopter.
“Now I’m really alone,” I thought as the machine flew above Gunnison. I knew a few people in this small town of 6,000, but in Denver, a city of half a million people, I knew no one.
But I was wrong. When the helicopter landed and I was wheeled into the doors of the hospital, a missionary couple from the Denver South Mission greeted me. Their gray hair and warm smiles reminded me of my grandparents.
“Your branch president’s wife called and asked if we’d visit you sometime this week, and we came right over,” Sister Jeffreys explained. They sat by my bed until late that afternoon when the surgery team had assembled and was ready for me in the operating theater.
I wanted Brother and Sister Jeffreys to stay, but knew they would not be allowed in during the operation. I said good-bye and watched them leave down the long hallway.
“Hello. I’m Lile Hileman, one of the anesthesiologists here,” a man said, approaching my bed. “I was supposed to get off at 4:30, but when I saw you were the only Mormon besides me here, I thought I’d ask if it would be all right if I stuck around as your anesthetist.”
“Do you know what you’re doing?” I joked for the first time since cutting myself.
“For you, I’ll learn fast,” he said, laughing.
It took the surgeons more than 14 hours to repair the damage, and I was in Denver for just as many days.
The day after the accident, my mom flew to Denver from our home in Orem, Utah, and she was greeted at the hospital by the full-time missionaries. For the three days she was in Denver with me, she stayed in the home of Church members she had never met.
After my mom returned home, and during the ensuing weeks, I continued to receive visits from the Jeffreys and Brother Hileman. In addition, half a dozen members of the Denver South Singles Ward showed up three times each week to cheer me up. The night before I left, they all “kidnapped” me from my room and took me to an ice cream shop close to the hospital.
I flew home, and after six more operations and months of therapy, I was able to use my hand again. Although my mission call was delayed six months, I served two years with an added vigor, for I now could teach the people of Melbourne about their caring brothers and sisters they’ll always have as part of their church family.

The Turay family resettled in Bo, Sierra Leone. Although there was no Church presence there, they were encouraged to stay and help establish a branch. They started a home group with only the five members of the Turay family. Not long after they started talking to people about the Church, missionaries arrived, and the first baptismal service was held in Bo. On that special day, 31 people were baptized in the Sewa River. Mohamed was soon called to preside over the new Bo Sierra Leone District. Under Mohamed’s leadership, one small branch eventually grew into four branches.

Now, I would like to fast forward a few thousand years and introduce you to a former student of mine who has gone through, and continues to go through, some great trials and tests in his life. I have asked for his permission to share his story. I do not share his story for you to feel sorry for him or to have pity toward him. He doesn't need your pity. I share his story to somehow give you hope and strength, as we all go through our own trials here in mortality. Let me introduce you to Ammon Butcher. As you can see, Ammon was a typical boy doing typical boy things in his home state of Texas. Ammon is part of a large family: he has four brothers and three sisters.

Ammon loved sports, and in Texas everyone played football. He played football, but his true passion was wrestling. His passion paid off, and he became a very good wrestler. He wrestled in junior high and high school. Then one Saturday in January 2007, everything changed.

Ammon was participating in a high school wrestling tournament as a junior. He was engaged in a very tough match. His opponent was very aggressive and very strong. No one really knows exactly what happened, as there was no video of the match. What Ammon does recall is his opponent had him around his waist and was on top of Ammon. As Ammon stood up and tried to break free from his grasp, he was only able to break free of one hand, so his opponent quickly grabbed Ammon around one of his legs and spun to throw him back to the mat. In what is a completely legal move—and performed frequently in most wrestling matches—Ammon fell awkwardly on his neck. At that moment, Ammon's life changed forever. He lay fully conscious but motionless on the mat. He could not move or feel anything from the chest down. The medical diagnosis was a C4-C5 dislocation and compression. He did not technically break his neck; it was dislocated, and the dislocation put tremendous pressure on his spinal cord and caused irreparable damage. Ammon spent 26 days in intensive care. He weighed in that Saturday morning of the wrestling tournament 139.6 pounds. When he left the ICU, he weighed 110 pounds.

Fortunately for Ammon, he had his family, some great mentors from his high school, his wrestling coach, and an undeniable faith in our Savior. Though his experiences after the accident were never feelings of self-pity, just normal-day life had become enormously difficult. Ammon's mother would frequently tell her son, "Get up; you have to get back out there. Focus on what you can do. Someday you will have to provide for yourself and a family."

After the accident, there was a tremendous outpouring of support. Ammon remembers so many giving of their time, their means, and their talents. Emails flooded his inbox, monetary donations were made, letters poured in from across the globe, and good people were constantly by his bedside. The hospital actually had to move Ammon to a larger room to accommodate all the visitors.

After almost a full year of rehabilitation, Ammon needed to set new goals based on his new reality of life. Ammon was a fair student in high school but never really applied himself. Luckily for him, he did well enough in high school to not have failed any classes.

He began looking at his options of a potential career path. Ammon recalls thinking that he never really focused on academics, so he really didn't know what he could do. Obviously, any type of trade was out of the question without the use of his hands and legs. When he returned to high school, he faced the very strong possibility of failing a class for the very first time. He was struggling with coping with his new reality. However, once he got a grip on his new life, he began to realize he had some ability in the academic arena that he never really knew he had before the accident.

Once his high school grades began to improve and he took the college entrance exams, college was a strong possibility. He began to realize that it would have to be his mind to propel him to the heights he wanted to go.

Ammon enrolled at BYU-Idaho and decided to pursue a degree in accounting. I realize I'm completely biased here, but I have to admit it was the best decision he had made thus far. I met Ammon for the first time when he was a sophomore taking an Accounting 202 class I was teaching. Since that first meeting in 2011, I have been blessed to know him.

Due to his limitations of being in a motorized wheelchair, Rexburg and BYU-Idaho did present some challenges. For Ammon, attending winter semester was out of the question. I did kid him on multiple occasions that I'm sure the engineering department could retrofit his wheelchair with tracks, and we could put some skis on the front, and he could have a motorized snow machine. But this was totally impractical.

It would be my wish for everyone within the sound of my voice to have the chance to meet Ammon in person. I know it would change your life. I am a different person because of my interactions with Ammon.

Ammon did very well with his studies here and graduated with a bachelor's degree in accounting in the fall of 2013. He was honored as one of our top accounting students and was invited to give the student address at the College of Business and Communication convocation that semester.

Graduate school is pushed pretty strongly in our profession. If you don't go on and get a master's degree, most states require 150 credit hours beyond high school in order to sit for the CPA exam. Ammon wanted to get his master's. He applied to all the large schools in Texas. He was actually accepted to University of Texas at Austin and SMU. UT-Austin is in the top five nationally for accounting programs. Brother Packard, an accounting faculty member here on campus, suggested Ammon apply to the Ohio State University's Fisher School of Business. He applied, and actually a week before he was going to send his acceptance letter to UT-Austin, he received a call from the recruiting and admissions coordinator at Ohio State University inviting him to come out to Columbus and take a tour of the school.

When Ammon first met Dr. Arya, the department chair for the Master of Accounting program, he had no idea of Ammon's disability. They offered Ammon a full-tuition scholarship with room and board and a monthly stipend. The value of this scholarship is roughly $65,000.

Ammon still maintained a love for wrestling and spoke of his love for it with Dr. Araya. He then got Ammon in touch with the OSU wrestling coach, Tom Ryan. When Coach Ryan offered Ammon a manager positon with the OSU wrestling team for the year he would be on campus, Ammon was sold. Ammon attended OSU and received his Master of Accounting degree in April 2015.

He also worked with Coach Ryan on building a leadership training program for the wrestling team. Ammon said, "Success in wrestling requires a person to make a multitude of little decisions correctly and the same in life. Through my injury, recovery, and transition to a new life, I have thought long and hard about the purpose of adversity, and I've asked, what is it about the second person that passes a barrier that the first could not and the next barrier that a third could pass but the second could not? I am working with Coach Ryan to develop a structured program to address areas where student athletes are guided in the process of making right decisions under extreme stress that over time will accumulate to success in all areas of their life, not just performance on the mat." As you can see, Ammon had a very positive impact on the wrestling program at OSU.

I recall Ammon visiting me in my office one day, and like a typical accountant he said, "Brother Foutz, do you have any idea how much it costs for me to function each month?" I told him I actually had no idea. He said, "It takes over 12 people each month for me to function. I need someone to help me get out of bed, shower, and get dressed. I need someone to cook and help me eat. I need someone to help with some of my daily tasks at school. And then I need someone at night to help me get ready for bed and then help to get into bed. I have figured it out, and I am going to have to make a lot of money in order for me to be self-sufficient and not a burden to society.

Little did Ammon know that the Lord was working his magic and guiding Ammon and his decisions. Unknown to Ammon at the time he decided to go to Ohio State, there was actually an apartment complex built specifically for individuals with disabilities like Ammon's. Each apartment is built and designed in such a way that lifts for his bed to lift him in and out are built into the celling. The lift can carry him right from his bed to the bathroom. There is 24-hour support available at the touch of a button, or it can be voice activated. There is transportation to and from his apartment to anywhere in Columbus.

This apartment has given Ammon the ability to work as a staff accountant with a large health care organization that has its headquarters in Columbus. He has begun his path to being self-sufficient.

To quote Ammon, "I have drunk from the bitter cup, but I refuse to be bitter. Just like muscles in the body, the spirit needs stress to grow, and that is what I take from my accident—through it I have grown my spirit. I am also fortunate to learn I could get excited about what I could do with my mind. I don't spend any time thinking about my injury or what could have been. I let the research take care of itself. If there is a therapy that can help me, great. But until that time, I am not thinking about it. There is too much to accomplish, and I'm not going to get caught up in worrying about something that only might happen; there are things I can make happen and lives I can touch. That is what drives me."

I am looking forward to following from a distance what Ammon will do next. He continues to amaze me and motivates me to be a better teacher, father, husband, and child of our Heavenly Father.

When I was 15 years old, I realized the significance of a testimony of the Book of Mormon, Joseph Smith, and the Savior and how it affects our choices.
My brother, Joe, was 20 years old. It was during the Korean conflict, and only one young man in each ward could go on a mission. The others had to be available to be drafted into the military. A young man in our ward had gone on a mission early in the year; my brother’s birthday was in September, so he didn’t think he would get the opportunity to serve a mission.
Our stake president called my brother in and told him that one of the wards had not used its allotment and he might be able to go. Missionaries were called at 20 years of age in those days, and my brother had just filled out his application to medical school. He was a good student. My father, who was not active in the Church, had made financial preparations to help him with medical school and was disappointed when he learned of the conversation with the stake president. My father counseled Joe not to go and suggested that he could do more good by going to medical school.
This was a big issue in our family. That night my brother and I talked about the choice. He was five years older, so it was mainly his thinking. As we reasoned it out, we concluded: If Jesus Christ was a great man but not divine, if Joseph Smith was a wonderful teacher but not a prophet, or if the Book of Mormon had wonderful counsel but was not the word of God, then Dad was right—it would be better to go to medical school. But if Jesus Christ is divine, if Joseph Smith is a prophet, and if the Book of Mormon is the word of God, then it would be more important to accept the call and proclaim the gospel.
That night, more than ever before, I wanted to know the answers to these questions. I had always believed in the divinity of Jesus Christ. I believed in Joseph Smith and the Book of Mormon, but I wanted confirmation from the Lord. That night, as I prayed, the Spirit bore witness to my soul of the Savior and the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon and that Joseph Smith was a prophet. My brother received the same witness and made the choice to serve a mission. Incidentally, when my brother returned from his mission, he went to medical school. When I reached my 20th birthday, my father was happy to see me serve a mission.

Recently, you may have read about Sister Ella Hoskins, who at 100 years old was called to help the young women in her ward with Personal Progress.20 About two years later, at 102, Sister Hoskins earned her Young Womanhood Recognition award. The young women, the ward and stake Young Women and Relief Society presidencies, and family members gathered together to celebrate her accomplishment. Boundaries of age, organization, and marital status faded away in faithful service. Young women expressed gratitude for Sister Hoskins, for her teaching, and for her righteous example. They want to be like her. Afterward, I asked Sister Hoskins, “How did you do it?”
She promptly responded, “I repent every day.”

My parents have served in the temple for more than 30 years—Dad as a sealer, Mom as an ordinance worker. They also served five full-time missions together—in Riverside, California; Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia; Nairobi, Kenya; the Nauvoo Illinois Temple; and the Monterrey Mexico Temple. In Mexico they worked hard to learn a new language, which wasn’t easy at 80 years of age. But they sought to do the will of the Lord rather than to pursue their own desires in life.

I was on a program with the famous actor Henry Winkler, who played Fonzie on the 1970s television sitcom Happy Days. The saddest thing is that most of you are so young you don’t even know who I am talking about. You need to Google him and see that he was the coolest dude who ever lived. He played the dad in the movie Holes and the football coach in The Water Boy.

After our speeches Winkler decided he wanted to take some time off and treat himself to a matinee movie, so he slid in through the side exit door of the theater. As he shuffled down the aisle to find a vacant seat and turned to sit down in the chair, the little girl sitting right behind him smiled a giant smile, pointed her finger, and slowly said, “Fonzie.”

Winkler immediately snapped into the Fonzie character. He wiggled his hips, flipped his hair, pointed his finger, and said, “Hey, whoa!”

The lady sitting next to the little girl passed out. The theater manager immediately came out and took care of the woman’s needs. Lying in the aisle with a cold pack on her forehead, she was asked why she had passed out. With tears in her eyes, she whispered, “My little girl is autistic, and that is the very first word she has ever spoken in her entire life!”

Yes, one moment in time can change you forever—either positively or negatively. The difference will be in how you react and what you learn from it.

About 225 years later, the teens of the Wilmington Delaware Stake returned to Cooch’s Bridge and other Revolutionary War sites for their “Youth Conference 2002: Build upon the Rock.” For the conference, they worked on many different projects such as painting and cleaning historical sites.
The teens helped repaint battle monuments at Cooch’s Bridge, cleared brush away from 300-year-old barns and homes at the Elk River invasion site, and cleaned at nearby Dayette Mills, a commercial center in Delaware’s colonial era.
Dayette historian and curator, Ray Johnson, was thrilled to see hundreds of Latter-day Saint youth arrive to help wash the walls and restore the grounds of the old mill. “These Mormon kids have no idea how much good they’re doing. Not only are they helping fix things up, they are also drawing community attention to all this history we have in the area,” he said.
Kathy Sullican, 16, from Wilmington said it helped to know the history before they started working. “Before the work projects, the groups were given historical information on each work site, which really gave us a greater appreciation of the service we were providing,” she said.
The teens pulled together and worked hard. It was supposed to take them three days to fix up Elk Landing, but it took them only half a day. Some of the teens worked so hard they forgot to eat lunch—at least until the job was done.
In the evenings, they returned to the stake center in Newark for dinner, dances, and special “building block” classes where guest speakers gave classes on local history, the restored gospel, and Book of Mormon prophecies concerning America. The youth were treated to historic reenactments and to testimonies from modern members of the armed forces.
Marcus Strange, 15, from the Rising Sun Branch in Maryland, enjoyed learning about Nephi’s vision of the New World in 1 Nephi 13. “I knew Nephi was a prophet, but learning about his revelations about the American Revolution reinforced my testimony of him,” he said.
The classes helped Leslie Little, 14, from the Cambridge Branch appreciate her freedom more. “I am so grateful for the freedom that we enjoy. I was glad I got to help preserve the past,” she said.
Stake President Gary Hollingshaus reminded the teens that they face similar challenges today. “We’re all part of the same war against evil and temptation,” he said. “In our battle we will use different tools. Instead of cleaning our muskets or sharpening our bayonets, the armor we have is personal righteousness, daily prayers, and reading the scriptures.”
As the conference drew to a close, many of the teens expressed an appreciation for the challenges that confronted the early Americans as they settled the colonies and battled for independence.
Sarah Sturgell, 16, from the Wilmington Ward said, “Whoever thought that pulling trees and weeds in the hot sun with sweaty youth would be one of the most spiritual experiences I’ve had? What I’ve learned about the Revolutionary War has really strengthened me.”
The conference was more than a bunch of teens having a lot of fun fixing things up and pulling weeds. Now the Delaware teens have more courage to fight their own battles against sin. Their memories of youth conference will always remind them that they can be as valiant in their fight for right as the Revolutionary War soldiers were at Cooch’s Bridge.

Carly W. from Rexburg, Idaho, is a busy helper. At home Carly helps out by taking care of her family’s cats, dogs, and chickens. Because Carly is one of the best students in her class at school, she helps other children with math and reading. In Primary Carly’s singing helps other children to feel the Spirit.
Because Carly has done such a good job helping others, some of her friends decided to help her too.
Carly was born with a disease called spina bifida. This disease makes it hard for Carly to use all of her muscles. Doing things like walking on uneven ground and climbing up stairs can be hard for her. At school, Carly wasn’t able to play on the playground because the playground equipment was hard for her to use. There were other children who also couldn’t play on the playground equipment.
“Sometimes I felt bad and frustrated at recess because I couldn’t play on the playground,” Carly says.
One of Carly’s friends, Halli Jo, and Halli Jo’s mom decided to earn money to build a playground that Carly and all the other students at the school could use.
Halli Jo, her mom, and a lot of other people worked to earn money for the new playground. It took a lot of work, but they were able to earn enough money to build a new playground that all the students could play on.
“It was a lot of hard work,” Halli Jo says. “But it never made me sad to do the work—it just made me love Carly more.”
Carly is happy to be able to play on the playground with her friends. She says, “I like walking up the ramps and going down the slides. Me and my friends have fun together.”

I still remember one:
“An older boy and his young companion were walking along a road which led through a field. They saw an old coat and a badly worn pair of men’s shoes by the roadside, and in the distance they saw the owner working in the field.
“The younger boy suggested that they hide the shoes, conceal themselves, and watch the perplexity on the owner’s face when he returned.
“The older boy … thought that would not be so good. He said the owner must be a very poor man. So, after talking the matter over, at his suggestion, they concluded to try another experiment. Instead of hiding the shoes, they would put a silver dollar in each one and … see what the owner did when he discovered the money. So they did that.
“Pretty soon the man returned from the field, put on his coat, slipped one foot into a shoe, felt something hard, took it out and found a silver dollar. Wonder and surprise [shone] upon his face. He looked at the dollar again and again, turned around and could see nobody, then proceeded to put on the other shoe; when to his great surprise he found another dollar. His feelings overcame him. … He knelt down and offered aloud a prayer of thanksgiving, in which he spoke of his wife being sick and helpless and his children without bread. … He fervently thanked the Lord for this bounty from unknown hands and evoked the blessing of heaven upon those who gave him this needed help.
“The boys remained [hidden] until he had gone.” They had been touched by his prayer and felt something warm within their hearts. As they left to walk down the road, one said to the other, “Don’t you have a good feeling?” (Adapted from Bryant S. Hinckley, Not by Bread Alone, 95).

When Kent was four, his father died. His grandparents, Ruby and Delos, lived in Nevada at the time. They sold their home and moved into the same Salt Lake neighborhood as their daughter, Marie, to help raise Kent and his two sisters. Even at that age, Kent realized what a great sacrifice the move was for them.
As the years passed he noticed other little things about them. The fact that Grandpa never missed church, that Grandma would help anyone in need. He loved them almost as much as his own mother. “They were like parents, not grandparents,” he says.
“Grandad taught me to ride a bike, to play basketball. He ordained me a priest. I’ve never seen him do anything bad or say anything bad about anyone. I want to be like him.”

Photographs by Mark Davis
Ever dream about your future career? You know, what you’ll do when you head out on your own, become an adult, and realize it’s time to earn your own living? And what do you want to do when you get there? Fly planes? Create video games? Play professional football? How about acting in movies? How about making your own movies?
That’s exactly what Kamila T. of New York, USA, 16, hopes to do. That’s why she’s enrolled in a school of art and design. Kamila doesn’t just like watching movies; she loves making them too. But she knows that if she wants to make a living at it, she’s going to have to learn a few things and get to work right now. No matter how young you are, you can start thinking about your future. As it says in For the Strength of Youth, “Set high goals for yourself, and be willing to work hard to achieve them” ([2011], 40).
Kamila’s love for making movies started when she was 12. “My friends and I used iMovie on a tablet to make funny movies,” she said. “I became interested in it then. I started making films for my school and really enjoyed it.”
Pretty soon Kamila decided she wanted to pursue film in high school. But most high schools don’t have a strong film program, so she started looking around.
She explained, “When I originally heard about the school of art and design, I didn’t want to go. But my dad wanted me to. He has a lot of friends who are in film, and he thought it would be a good decision for my career. He said it was the best school for film. So I visited the school to check it out and really liked it.”
Liking the school was one thing, but getting accepted was another thing altogether.
“I had to audition in front of the teacher,” Kamila said. “It was really hectic, because I had to create two storyboards [outlines of her film ideas] to present. I wasn’t prepared on the first day like everyone else, so I had to go on the second day. On the way there we got a little lost, and I was late. My mom told me not to worry and to call my dad. I did, and he said a prayer with me over the phone. It was nice.”
Kamila calmed down and presented her storyboards. The result? She was accepted into the program, and she just started her third year there.
For Kamila, studying film has been amazing. Recently her class created a public service announcement for a competition. Experiences like that have helped her see what she can achieve.
But going to her school also comes with sacrifice. It’s an hour and a half commute each way. Plus, “All the other kids in my area go to a normal high school with football fields and other sports,” she said. “My school is different because everyone’s interested in the arts. But going there has also prepared me for things in life. I know how to take the train and how to get around on my own.”
At the same time, Kamila knows that making a living as a filmographer—especially for one holding LDS standards—can present challenges. So she’s kept her mind open to other interesting options.
“In English class we learned about psychology, and I really liked it,” she said. “My mom is going back to school, getting a minor in psychology and a major in teaching. So she shares with me what’s she’s learning. I still want to follow film, but psychology is my backup. Or finding a way to combine film and psychology would be great.”
Kamila is developing her gifts and talents for a career and independence—and a future family. “I hope to get married in the temple and be a mom one day,” she said. “I believe that by developing my talents like psychology and film, I would be able to have more open communication with my family.”
As prophets have counseled: “Heavenly Father has given you gifts and talents and knows what you are capable of achieving. Seek His help and guidance as you work to achieve your goals” (For the Strength of Youth, 40).
For other youth trying to figure out their goals and future plans for education, jobs, and family, Kamila had this advice: “Follow your dreams. Do what most interests you. It’s not a status thing or an obsession—it’s doing something you’ve always wanted to do, the thing you really want to be in the back of your mind. You can do it!”

A few years ago, I became active in the Church again after six months of inactivity. My spiritual thirst was unbelievable, for I was once again on the right path. After just a few months, I felt the desire to serve the Lord as a missionary. I had interviews with my bishop, who helped me prepare. I had to wait to be truly ready, and in the meantime the bishop advised me to tell my parents of my plans.
My parents are members of the Church, but they had been less active for more than nine years. From the day I spoke with them about my desire, the opposition became real. I agreed with my family that if I passed the competitive examination from the school I had been accepted to, they would let me go on a mission in one year.
That year ended up being the most difficult of my life. My mother thought I would forget about my desire to go on a mission. However, after I had attended a few months of school, she realized I was truly preparing for a mission. So she cut off my financial support. It was then that my prayers became great blessings.
My Heavenly Father inspired me to look for a job, which I did. After finding three good openings, I wrote my letters of application and pleaded with the Lord to let me receive at least one positive response, for I had done all that He had commanded me.
A response came only three days later. I was called in for an interview with one of the companies. Following the interview, I got the job that day. The only problem was that I was still not earning enough money to cover all my expenses. After praying to God, I felt inspired to trust Him and not to fear. So I paid my tithing without fear.
A few weeks later my landlord asked to see me. “Most likely to talk about rent,” I thought. What he said was, “You will not need to pay your rent until you finish school!”
I could not believe it. This blessing enabled me to pay for what I needed, and most important, it helped me prepare financially for my mission. Miracles were taking place in my life at just the right time.
I have now completed my mission. I feel such gratitude for the ability to pray to our Father in Heaven. I am so happy to know with a certainty that He lives and He loves His children. If we listen to Him, we will see many miracles in our lives.

There are abundant examples of successful youth leadership occurring minute by minute all over the world. Let me give you just one example.
I met Matt Andersen, a teachers quorum president whose father was serving as a mission president in Mexico. When Matt was set apart as the quorum president, he was the only member of the teachers quorum attending church in his ward. Young President Matt Andersen was learning a new language so he could be an effective missionary. Going forward with faith, courage, and confidence gained at home and in the deacons quorum, he determined to use his keys of presidency to bless the members of his quorum and their families. He immediately asked for a list of quorum members from the ward clerk, practiced his Spanish, and with a prayer in his heart called the one boy who was listed with a telephone number. He said, “¡Omar: Tú, Iglesia, Hoy!” Or in English, “Omar! You, Church, Today!” Just the basic message!
The miracle is that Omar came to church that day, and soon thereafter so did his mother and sister. Our young quorum president, Matt Andersen, then invited the bishop to drive him, translate, and together visit two other boys whose names were on the list but without telephone numbers. His keys of presidency, the ministering of angels, and the powers of heaven combined. The result was that these two boys also came to church and formed the new teachers quorum presidency. Other boys and their families also returned to the blessings of the gospel and the priesthood.