Gospel Story Finder

Duffie and Victor Hurtado’s friendship developed through their acquaintance in the choir, and they eventually married. Singing together in the choir is a “beautiful experience” although it does create some hardships on the family with both parents being away. However, the Hurtados have largely solved that problem as Victor’s mother, who, like Victor, joined the Church in Peru, lives with them. She cares for the two children when Victor and Duffie are rehearsing or performing with the choir.

Throughout my youth, I attended a lot of firesides. I admit, I don’t recall everything, but one talk has always stuck with me. One of my leaders, who was previously an Air Force pilot, shared his experience with hypoxia—the lack of oxygen to a person’s body, which impacts their brain.
One of my leaders, who was previously an Air Force pilot, shared his experience with hypoxia—the lack of oxygen to a person’s body, which impacts their brain.
The leader explained that Air Force pilots are at risk of becoming hypoxic, so they undergo training where they are exposed to it. In one training session, he was instructed to take his oxygen mask off and then to put it back on when he felt himself becoming hypoxic. But he never put his mask back on—his friends had to do it for him.
After the training, his friends explained that they watched him suffer all the signs of hypoxia—bad decision-making, incoherent speech, and confusion. He said he hadn’t felt any of those symptoms and thought he had been acting normal, even though his friends could see that he was in danger.
Sometimes in life, we may find ourselves heading down the wrong path without always recognizing that what we’re doing isn’t right. We may make bad decisions, act differently, and be completely confused with life—just like hypoxia. The path toward eternal life is a path you can easily stray from if everyone around you isn’t committed to it too (see 1 Nephi 8:23, 28; 3 Nephi 14:13–14). This is when having bad friends can be harmful to your already-hypoxic state. Of course, bad friends aren’t necessarily bad people—I’m talking about friends who won’t put your oxygen mask back on and who are even possibly the ones who could lead you into a state of spiritual danger.
Growing up in Australia, I’ve been exposed to a variety of friends, inside and outside the Church—some were not positive influences. I’ve experienced situations where I felt certain I could stay on the strait and narrow path, but because of the influence of a few bad friends, their actions became the norm for me and I started following them.
What helped me to come to my senses was listening to my parents and Church leaders. I knew they wanted the best for my life and that they could see better than I that I was falling into a state of spiritual hypoxia. I tried to always stand in holy places. I attended young adult activities and church. Even when I spent a lot of my time at university and work, I found good friends. I’ve made a lot of friends who aren’t members of the Church, but who choose the right and are great role models. For example, I met one of my greatest friends in high school. She was always striving to be a better person, and even though she isn’t a member, she helped me recognize when I wasn’t choosing the right path for myself. And that’s what a great friend does.
In Proverbs 13:20 it reads, “He that walketh with the wise men shall be wise: but a companion of fools shall be destroyed.” I completely agree—the friends that you surround yourself with the most are the people who you will ultimately follow. Just as I didn’t realize, you may not recognize when you’re becoming spiritually hypoxic and following the wrong path or the wrong people. It’s important to listen to those who love you and to put yourself in places that are going to invite both good people and the Spirit. When I did these things, I found myself surrounded by better friends every day—friends who support me in my righteous decisions.
No matter where you are in the world, you can find friends who will always put your oxygen mask back on when you struggle to do it yourself. You can find friends who can help you out of the spiritually hypoxic state you may find yourself in. Your friends have so much more of an impact in your life than you may think, so find companionship with those who are choosing the right. I did, and it changed me and my future forever.

A friend of mine told me that he and another young man had been asked to visit President Grant to see if he would come to their ward and speak at the commemoration of the restoration of the Aaronic Priesthood they were planning. He said they walked through the front door of the Church Administration Building, walked to the back of the building where President Grant’s secretary sat, and said, “Is the President in?”

She replied, “Yes, would you like to see him?”

They answered in the affirmative and were shown into that beautiful boardroom. President Grant welcomed them and said, “What can I do for you two young men today?” They made their request, and President Grant responded, “Of course I’d be happy to come and speak to the young men. Give me the date and time, and I’ll be there.” He stood, and they thanked him and left. President Grant visited their ward on the appointed date.

This scenario probably took place in the early 1930s, and I can assure you that everything is handled much differently today.

We are here to make choices and we will make many, many choices throughout our lives. When we are young, our parents help and encourage us, sometimes strongly encourage us, to make good choices. As we get older, though, we must learn to make those choices for ourselves. I recall an experience with my son Jimmy when he was about six years old, an age when you are starting to be more independent and wanting to make your own choices, or at least to have more input on those choices.

Jimmy was in first grade and we were living in Tucson, Arizona at the time. He had a friend in his class at school who had an earring and encouraged him to get one too. Jimmy came home from school and told us that he wanted to get an earring because his friend had one and he thought it would be a pretty cool thing to do. This was nearly twenty years ago, and even though the prophet had not given specific guidance for men not to wear earrings, neither Keri nor I felt that it would be a good thing for Jimmy to do. Not wanting to simply tell him no without an explanation or reason, and not really having a reason other than we did not want him to get an earring, I told him that I would think about it and let him know. After thinking about it for a few days, I sat Jimmy down and told him that we did not want him to get an earring because we needed to follow the example of our prophet and the other general authorities and since they did not have earrings, we should not have them either. I was expecting a little bit of resistance from Jimmy, and I was surprised when he simply accepted the decision and never asked again. A few days later, Keri picked up Jimmy from school and gave one of his friends a ride home. It happened to be the friend with the earring. As they were driving home, Keri overheard the conversation between Jimmy and his friend. His friend asked him when he was going to get an earring and Jimmy told him that he was never going to get one. When his friend asked why, Jimmy replied: “Our prophet does not have an earring and I might be the prophet someday, so I am not going to get an earring.” Though he did not fully understand at that age how one is selected to be the prophet, his heart was in the right place. He desired to follow the prophet and that desire helped him to in his choice to accept mine and Keri’s decision.

While we were living in California, one of our sons was seriously injured in an automobile accident. His skull was badly fractured, and doctors gave us very little encouragement that he would survive. Three days after he was admitted to the hospital, he contracted meningitis and his condition worsened. Our family doctor and neighbor came to our home and said, “All we can do now is pray.”

And pray we did. For several weeks our neighbors, friends, and business associates joined us in praying for our son and for our own strength. After almost a month, our son’s condition finally stabilized and then improved, and we were blessed to see him eventually recovered and smiling again.

I would not wish a similar experience on anyone, but that terrible, difficult period taught us the principle that President Thomas S. Monson has taught the Church. Said he, “Prayer is the passport to spiritual power.” During our son’s illness, we saw and felt the spiritual power of prayer! Our ward had never prayed harder than it did then, and I don’t think that the members had ever been closer to each other. Our family was sustained by the collective faith and prayers of our friends. And even as our hearts were breaking in fear that we might lose our son, we felt closer to Heavenly Father and more aware of our dependency on Him than at almost any other time in our lives.

Some years ago a young mother of my acquaintance shared this event in her life. She had been active in youth activities in the ward for several years and was at the time president of the young women. The stake president called one day and asked her to meet with the stake presidency the following Sunday afternoon. With anxiety in her voice and tears close to the surface, she went to her husband and said, I’m afraid they want me for a stake job. I don’t want a stake job. I love the ward. I love the youth in the ward. I love my counselors. I love my job. I don’t want to change.”

Her husband said, “Please go and see what they want. I’ll support you in any assignment.”

Her fears were realized. She was asked to be stake president of the Young Women. Later, the stake president told her that after she had reluctantly accepted the call, he had never seen a more forlorn-looking person walk out of his office.

For over six years she, with the same sisters as counselors, took care of the stake work for the young women. “Those were some of the best years of service for me,” she said. “My horizons expanded. I became acquainted with the wonderful leaders and great young people in our stake. I even had leadership experiences with other fine leaders in the whole valley. Later the opportunity came to serve on a general board. I shudder to think what I would have missed if I had declined the change in assignments.”

In 1962, Elder Harold B. Lee, then a member of the Council of the Twelve, used a very practical modern example of that principle. “It is sometimes very interesting to get the reaction of people,” he observed. “I recall when President McKay announced to the Church that the First Council of Seventy were being ordained high priests in order to extend their usefulness and to give them authority to act when no other General Authority could be present. I went down to Phoenix, Arizona, and I found a Seventy who was very much disturbed. He said to me, ‘Didn’t the Prophet Joseph Smith say that this was contrary to the order of heaven to name high priests as presidents of the First Council of Seventy when they were named in the beginning?’
“And I said, ‘Well, I had understood that he did, but had you ever thought that what was contrary to the order of heaven in 1840 might not be contrary to the order of heaven in 1960?’ You see, he had not thought of that. He … was following a dead prophet, and he was forgetting that there is a living prophet today. Hence the importance of our stressing the word ‘living.’” (“The Place of the Living Prophet, Seer, and Revelator,” address given to Seminary and Institute Faculty at BYU on July, 1964.)

Living next to the border between Mexico and the United States, we enjoyed traditions of both cultures. Every year in school we had piñatas. One year I was sitting on the first row and the blind-folded child successfully hit the candy-filled piñata with a stick. I was the first one able to reach the candy when the piñata broke open. I had my arms around the whole thing. Within two or three seconds every other child in the school was on top of me. I was just flattened, and I lost everything.
The lesson I learned from that experience was that sometimes when we are greedy and try to take it all, we end up losing it all. If I had started passing the candy around, the other children wouldn’t have all jumped on top of me. But because I tried to take so much, I lost everything.

Many years ago I attended a large gathering of Church members in the city of Berlin, Germany. A spirit of quiet reverence permeated the gathering as an organ prelude of hymns was played. I gazed at those who sat before me. There were mothers and fathers and relatively few children. The majority of those who sat on crowded benches were women about middle age—and alone.
Suddenly it dawned on me that perhaps these were widows, having lost their husbands during World War II. My curiosity demanded an answer to my unexpressed thought, so I asked the conducting officer to take a sort of standing roll call. When he asked all those who were widows to please arise, it seemed that half the vast throng stood. Their faces reflected the grim effect of war’s cruelty. Their hopes had been shattered, their lives altered, and their future had in a way been taken from them. Behind each countenance was a personal travail of tears. I addressed my remarks to them and to all who have loved, then lost, those most dear.
Though perhaps not so cruel and dramatic, yet equally poignant, are the lives described in the obituaries of our day and time when the uninvited enemy called death enters the stage of our mortal existence and snatches from our grasp a loving husband or precious wife and frequently, in the young exuberance of life, our children and grandchildren. Death shows no mercy. Death is no respecter of persons, but in its insidious way it visits all. At times it is after long-suffering and is a blessing; while in other instances those in the prime of life are taken by its grasp.
As of old, the heartbroken frequently and silently repeat the ancient question: “Is there no balm in Gilead?” “Why me; why now?” The words of a beautiful hymn provide a partial answer:
Where can I turn for peace? Where is my solace
When other sources cease to make me whole?
When with a wounded heart, anger, or malice,
I draw myself apart, Searching my soul? …
He answers privately, Reaches my reaching
In my Gethsemane, Savior and Friend.
Gentle the peace he finds for my beseeching.
Constant he is and kind, Love without end.
The plight of the widow is a recurring theme through holy writ. Our hearts go out to the widow at Zarephath. Gone was her husband. Consumed was her scant supply of food. Starvation and death awaited. But then came God’s prophet with the seemingly brazen command that the widow woman should feed him. Her response is particularly touching: “As the Lord thy God liveth, I have not a cake, but an handful of meal in a barrel, and a little oil in a cruse: and, behold, I am gathering two sticks, that I may go in and dress it for me and my son, that we may eat it, and die.”
The reassuring words of Elijah penetrated her very being:
“Fear not; go and do as thou hast said: but make me thereof a little cake first, and bring it unto me, and after make for thee and for thy son.
“For thus saith the Lord God of Israel, The barrel of meal shall not waste, neither shall the cruse of oil fail. …
“And she went and did according to the saying of Elijah. …
“And the barrel of meal wasted not, neither did the cruse of oil fail.”
Like the widow at Zarephath was the widow of Nain. The New Testament of our Lord records a moving and soul-stirring account of the Master’s tender regard for the grieving widow:
“And it came to pass … that he went into a city called Nain; and many of his disciples went with him, and much people.
“Now when he came nigh to the gate of the city, behold, there was a dead man carried out, the only son of his mother, and she was a widow: and much people of the city was with her.
“And when the Lord saw her, he had compassion on her, and said unto her, Weep not.
“And he came and touched the bier: and they that bare him stood still. And he said, Young man, I say unto thee, Arise.
“And he that was dead sat up, and began to speak. And he delivered him to his mother.”
What power, what tenderness, what compassion did our Master and Exemplar demonstrate. We, too, can bless if we will but follow His noble example. Opportunities are everywhere. Needed are eyes to see the pitiable plight, ears to hear the silent pleadings of a broken heart; yes, and a soul filled with compassion, that we might communicate not only eye to eye or voice to ear, but in the majestic style of the Savior, even heart to heart.
The word widow appears to have had a most significant meaning to our Lord. He cautioned His disciples to beware of the example of the scribes, who feigned righteousness by their long apparel and their lengthy prayers, but who devoured the houses of widows.
To the Nephites came the direct warning: “I will come near to you to judgment; and I will be a swift witness against … those that oppress … the widow.”
And to the Prophet Joseph Smith, He directed: “The storehouse shall be kept by the consecrations of the church; and widows and orphans shall be provided for, as also the poor.”
The widow’s home is generally not large or ornate. Frequently it is a modest one in size and humble in appearance. Often it is tucked away at the top of the stairs or the back of the hallway and consists of but one room. To such homes He sends you and me.
There may exist an actual need for food, clothing—even shelter. Such can be supplied. Almost always there remains the hope for that special hyacinth to feed the soul.
Go, gladden the lonely, the dreary;
Go, comfort the weeping, the weary;
Go, scatter kind deeds on your way;
Oh, make the world brighter today!
Let us remember that after the funeral flowers fade, the well wishes of friends become memories and the prayers offered and words spoken dim in the corridors of the mind. Those who grieve frequently find themselves alone. Missed are the laughter of children, the commotion of teenagers, and the tender, loving concern of a departed companion. The clock ticks more loudly, time passes more slowly, and four walls do indeed a prison make.
Hopefully, all of us may again hear the echo of words spoken by the Master, inspiring us to good deeds: “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these … ye have done it unto me.”
The late Elder Richard L. Evans left for our contemplation and action this admonition:
“We who are younger should never become so blindly absorbed in our own pursuits as to forget that there are still with us those who will live in loneliness unless we let them share our lives as once they let us share theirs. …
“We cannot bring them back the morning hours of youth. But we can help them live in the warm glow of a sunset made more beautiful by our thoughtfulness, by our provision, and by our active and unfeigned love. Life in its fullness is a loving ministry of service from generation to generation. God grant that those who belong to us may never be left in loneliness.”
Long years ago a severe drought struck the Salt Lake Valley. The commodities at the storehouse on Welfare Square had not been their usual quality, nor were they found in abundance. Many products were missing, especially fresh fruit. As a young bishop, worrying about the needs of the many widows in my ward, I said a prayer one evening that is especially sacred to me. I pleaded that these widows, who were among the finest women I knew in mortality and whose needs were simple and conservative, had no resources on which they might rely.
The next morning I received a call from a ward member, a proprietor of a produce business situated in our ward. “Bishop,” he said, “I would like to send a semitrailer filled with oranges, grapefruit, and bananas to the bishops’ storehouse to be given to those in need. Could you make arrangements?” Could I make arrangements! The storehouse was alerted, and then each bishop was telephoned and the entire shipment distributed.
The wife of that generous businessman became a widow herself. I know the decision her husband and she made brought her sweet memories and comforting peace to her soul.
I express my sincere appreciation to one and all who are mindful of the widow. To the thoughtful neighbors who invite a widow to dinner and to that royal army of noble women, the visiting teachers of the Relief Society, I add, may God bless you for your kindness and your love unfeigned toward her who reaches out and touches vanished hands and listens to voices forever stilled. The words of the Prophet Joseph Smith describe their mission: “I attended by request, the Female Relief Society, whose object is the relief of the poor, the destitute, the widow and the orphan, and for the exercise of all benevolent purposes.”
Thank you to thoughtful and caring bishops who ensure that no widow’s cupboard is empty, no house unwarmed, no life unblessed. I admire the ward leaders who invite the widows to all social activities, often providing a young Aaronic Priesthood lad to be a special escort for the occasion.
Frequently the need of the widow is not one of food or shelter but of feeling a part of ongoing events. Elder H. Bryan Richards of the Seventy once brought to my office a sweet widow whose husband had passed away during a full-time mission they were serving. Elder Richards explained that her financial resources were adequate and that she desired to contribute to the Church’s General Missionary Fund the proceeds of two insurance policies on the life of her departed husband. I could not restrain my tears when she meekly advised me, “This is what I wish to do. It is what my missionary-minded husband would like.”
The gift was received and entered as a most substantial donation to missionary service. I saw the receipt made in her name, but I believe in my heart it was also recorded in heaven. I invited her and Elder Richards to follow me to the unoccupied First Presidency council room in the Church Administration Building. The room is beautiful and peaceful. I asked this sweet widow to sit in the chair usually occupied by our Church President. I felt he would not mind, for I knew his heart.
As she sat ever so humbly in the large leather chair, she gripped each armrest with a hand and declared, “This is one of the happiest days of my life.” It was also such for Elder Richards and for me.
I never travel to work along busy Seventh East in Salt Lake City but what I see in my mind’s eye a thoughtful daughter, afflicted with arthritis and carrying in her hand a plate of warm food to her aged mother who lived across the busy thoroughfare. She has now gone home to that mother who preceded her in passing. But her lesson was not lost on her daughters, who delight their widowed father by cleaning his house each week, inviting him to dinners in their homes, and sharing with him the laughter of good times together, leaving in that widower’s heart a prayer of gratitude for his children, the light of his life. Fathers experience loneliness as well as mothers.
One evening at Christmastime, my wife and I visited a nursing home in Salt Lake City. We looked in vain for a 95-year-old widow, whose memory had become clouded and who could not speak a word. An attendant led us in our search, and we found Nell in the dining room. She had eaten her meal; she was sitting silently, staring into space. She did not show us any sign of recognition. As I reached to take her hand, she withdrew it. I noticed that she held firmly to a Christmas greeting card. The attendant smiled and said, “I don’t know who sent that card, but she will not lay it aside. She doesn’t speak but pats the card and holds it to her lips and kisses it.” I recognized the card. It was one my wife, Frances, had sent to Nell the week before.
We left more filled with the Christmas spirit than when we entered. We kept to ourselves the mystery of that special card and the life it had gladdened and the heart it had touched. Heaven was nearby.
We need not wait for Christmas; we need not postpone till Thanksgiving Day our response to the Savior’s tender admonition: “Go, and do thou likewise.”
As we follow in His footsteps, as we ponder His thoughts and His deeds, as we keep His commandments, we will be blessed. The grieving widow, the fatherless child, and the lonely of heart everywhere will be gladdened, comforted, and sustained through our service, and we will experience a deeper understanding of the words recorded in the Epistle of James: “Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this, To visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world.”

One day a teacher of first and second graders took all the chairs out of the classroom. As the students arrived, they exclaimed, “What happened to our chairs?” The teacher was giving them a choice: “You can stand the rest of the school year or come to the shop, and we can make chairs.”
The students go to the school’s shop, and they build chairs using all the naïve assumptions they have about things like glue and screws. Some of the chairs won’t even make it back to the classroom before they fall apart. And none of those chairs will last more than a couple of days. Every time one of the chairs breaks, they pick it up and put it on a table and everyone scrutinizes it. Eventually, no one has a chair to sit on. The teacher says, “Let’s take another stab at this chair thing.” So they build the next generation of chairs. But this time the kids have learned a little bit about crossbars and supports. They’re also being much more precise. They’ve discovered that if the legs of a chair are different lengths, the chair tears itself apart. These second-generation pieces are much better chairs, but they’re not very comfortable.
The students go back to build a third chair. But by this time, they’ve learned more about different kinds of chairs. They’ve been to a furniture shop and seen chairs assembled. They’ve learned how to use dowels in building their chairs. They’ve also learned about using hardwoods instead of pine. While building their third-generation chair, they understand that you can’t just throw it together in one day. They’re doing overnight gluing and clamping operations. They have to think through the order of assembly so they can put the pieces together.
Now, these students have a piece of furniture that they understand every single part of and why it is the way it is.
This teacher took seven-year-olds through an iterative process that produced complete, thought-out, fine-tuned creations that were unique to each student. She gave them room to find a design that suited them. She gave them room to make mistakes. But she also gave them space to correct their mistakes in each succeeding iteration of the chair. At the end of the school year, the students took their chairs home. They’ll likely have them for the rest of their lives. But more importantly, they’ll have the skills they learned in making those chairs.

Let me share one last example. Have you ever had a hard time adapting to a change in your life? Have you ever felt like the world came crashing down and it would be hard to continue breathing? Sometimes change can feel this way to me.

I remember feeling this way when I was single after painful changes in relationships. I have felt this way after graduating and not feeling like I had found my next steps forward. I felt this way after my dad died in a plane crash. I felt this way after my wife had a difficult miscarriage. In such times, it takes courage and faith to believe, You can live successfully here if you make Christ the center of your life.

After a particularly difficult change in my life, I was all ripped up inside. I decided I would go on a walk to try to sort things out and search for peace. I started by walking around the temple—this is always a good place to start. As I walked, I began praying. About a half hour into the walk, I had the idea that I needed to quit thinking and praying about the pain I was wrestling with and instead to think about Jesus Christ. To help me focus on Christ, I recited “The Living Christ,” the family proclamation, the Articles of Faith, Doctrine and Covenants 4, and some of my favorite verses from Alma 7. I recited them over and over as I walked for hours. I recited the words to several hymns and listened to many more. I listened to several chapters in the scriptures. I went through these passages trying to exercise faith to focus on Jesus Christ instead of the pain and confusion in my heart. President Nelson has taught, “It is mentally rigorous to strive to look unto [Jesus] in every thought. But when we do, our doubts and fears flee.” [23] I testify this is true!

Before dropping exhausted into bed that night, I prayed to find renewal, revelation, and a changed heart in the morning. Sometimes it takes many such walks and many such nights before that morning of hope and renewal. But I testify that if we exercise the mental rigor to make Christ the center of our lives, they come. [24]

“Let’s all go up. Let’s make the bishop faint. Let’s all go up and bear our testimonies.” This was the challenge young Spencer V. Jones made to his fellow deacons. It was also a turning point in the maturing of his testimony. “As I bore my testimony, at the end—where maybe a month before I was giggling at the people who cried while bearing their testimonies because I didn’t really understand—I found myself in tears,” Elder Jones recalls. “I’ve never forgotten that moment, because when spirit speaks to spirit, something special happens.”

Entering the United States Navy in the closing months of World War II was a challenging experience for me. I learned of brave deeds, acts of valor, and examples of courage. One best remembered was the quiet courage of an eighteen-year-old seaman—not of our faith—who was not too proud to pray. Of 250 men in the company, he was the only one who each night knelt down by the side of his bunk, at times amidst the jeers of the curious and the jests of unbelievers, and, with bowed head, prayed to God. He never wavered. He never faltered. He had courage.

Dan (name has been changed) was seeing me for professional counseling. “I try to live the commandments,” he said, “but I am constantly tempted by sensual distractions. I recommit but get worn down and occasionally end up letting my guard down. I am not going to pornography sites, but I become hypnotized by inappropriate images that seem to be everywhere. My wife is hurt, and I am tired of trying.”
With Dan, it was helpful to distinguish temptation from sin, understand shame and the power of agency, and learn to rely more on the Savior’s grace.
Dan had righteous desires, but he felt like he was failing. He was ashamed, in part because of his ongoing temptations. Like many, he thought that because he had given in to some temptations, he might as well give up.2 While guilt is an important feeling that motivates us to repent, shame can have the opposite effect, leading us to give up. This is particularly damaging when we mistakenly believe temptation is a sign of weakness.
With help, Dan learned not to panic when tempted but to acknowledge his feelings, then choose to move on to healthy behaviors.
Dan began avoiding the use of electronic devices when he was susceptible to temptation, such as when he was alone, tired, or stressed. He passed on problematic TV shows and other entertainment and instead spent time connecting with others. He strengthened his spirit by spending more time in the scriptures, journaling, improving his sleep, and exercising (see Doctrine and Covenants 88:124).8 These important principles can help each of us decrease temptations and increase strength, especially when practiced consistently over time.

I want to share an experience that adds perspective, gratitude, and a little laughter. When my husband and I had young kids, we had little money to care for our family. Because of this, we would only put five to ten dollars in our gas tank at a time. One day, while we had three young kids in the car, we ran out of gas, which happened to be the second time in two weeks that this had happened. We pulled over to the side of the road, and my husband, Bryant, and I looked at each other and started laughing. My oldest child, Colter, who was four at the time, looked at both of us and said, “What is happening?” We explained we ran out of gas. In the most sincere, concerned voice, he said, “I don’t think that’s very funny.” Which made Bryant and I laugh even more. In times like this, we can recognize that we can choose how we act in circumstances. This time, we chose to laugh.

Laurie Baldwin wiped at the tears that stung her eyes during the long trip to Denver. Great-grandma, her mom’s grandma, had died yesterday after being sick a long time. The whole family—Laurie, Mom, Dad, and Laurie’s two older sisters—was going to the funeral.
When they arrived at Great-grandma’s house, Laurie met the cousins, aunts, and uncles who had gathered there.
“How are we going to put together a funeral in only two days?” Aunt Christy asked. “We don’t know anyone here.”
Mom didn’t look worried. “I know where we can find help,” she said, reaching for the phone book.
Laurie listened as Mom called the bishop of a Denver ward and explained the situation.
“Why did you call a bishop?” Laurie asked after Mom replaced the phone. “Great-grandma wasn’t a member of the Church.” Mom was the only member of her family who belonged to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
“Even though Grandma wasn’t a member of our Church, we can still ask for help in preparing for her funeral. That’s part of belonging to the Church—being able to go anywhere and know that there are people who are willing to help us.”
Laurie would always remember that.
Soon the phone started ringing. Her mother spent the next hour taking calls and making others. She was smiling after the last one.
“Everything’s taken care of,” she announced to the family. “The bishop called some people. The Relief Society president is going to arrange a meal for the family after the funeral. She’ll also find someone to play the organ and lead the music.”
“Why are they helping us?” Aunt Christy wanted to know. “We don’t live here. We don’t even know them.”
“In our church we call each other ‘Brother’ and ‘Sister.’ That’s because we’re all brothers and sisters in the gospel and help each other whenever we can.”
Laurie thought about that—brothers and sisters in the gospel. She liked the sound of it.
Mom spoke at the funeral and told some things about her grandmother’s life. A lady with a pretty voice sang “How Great Thou Art” (Hymns, no. 86), which had been Great-grandma’s favorite song. Mom was crying and smiling at the same time.
After the funeral, Mom thanked the bishop and everyone who had helped with the music and food. “I don’t know what we would have done without you.”
The bishop took her hand. “We were happy to help. Your grandmother must have been a remarkable woman.”
Laurie heard the quiet sincerity in his voice. The family spent the rest of the afternoon and evening talking about Great-grandma.
“I want to find out more about your church,” Aunt Christy said.
Laurie listened as Mom began to explain. “We belong to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. …”
“Bishops, home teachers, visiting teachers, and members of priesthood quorums and of Relief Societies … all stand ready to help. …
“Of course, your brothers and sisters in the Church are not to solve your problems for you. … But your brothers and sisters will be at your side to strengthen you, encourage you, and help you.”Elder Joseph B. WirthlinFrom an April 2000 general conference address.

Several years ago I went on a bicycle trip in France with my sister, sister-in-law, and her daughter. Each morning we were given three pages of detailed instructions that, if followed exactly, would guide us to our destination of the day. While we were cycling through vineyards, the directives might instruct us to “go 165 feet (50 m) north, then turn left and go 330 feet (100 m).” More often, the instructions gave signs and street names.
One morning we cycled down an attractive road but soon realized that our instructions no longer fit the territory. Rapidly becoming lost, we decided to return to where we last knew we were on the right track to see if we could sort out where to go.
Sure enough, when we got there, we found a small road sign, noted in our instructions, that we had failed to see. Soon we were on our way again, matching our progress with the instructions, which again were making perfect sense.
The experience served as a metaphor that answered a puzzling question I’d had: Why, when someone has had a testimony of the gospel, would he or she ever fall away? It became clear to me that when we take a wrong turn (sin) or fail to follow God’s commandments, the instructions (the word of God) no longer make sense. The map, as it were, no longer fits the territory we’re in. If we haven’t strayed too far, we may recognize that the fault is ours and that we need to return (repent) or recommit to live as God has commanded to where we knew we were following the route correctly.

Sharing was not just a one-time thing for the Taylorsville Fourth Ward Young Women (Taylorsville Utah West Stake). They made it happen all year long and culminated their efforts in an Evening for Sharing.

Such events are suggested as part of the Young Women calendar each year. “One of the great rewards of accomplishment comes when a song, a talent, a thought, a few moments of time, an experience, or something created can be shared. Many things are of little worth until they are shared.” (Behold Thy Handmaiden, Guidelines for Adult Leaders, p. 8.) The idea is to provide young women in their own wards and stakes with opportunities to share what they have accomplished throughout the past year.

The young women themselves were the planners and did all the work for their Evening for Sharing. They decided that they would like to share their love for life, family, country, and church and created presentations of music, dance, readings, and displays. During the presentations, each class president gave a special award and thanked her adviser for all she had done for their class. Also, awards and gifts were given to the bishopric, Young Women president, secretary, and the sister who served on the service and activities committee. A gift was also given to the second-year Laurels who were leaving the program.

Pictures had been taken of the combined activities and service projects that had taken place throughout the year. Each class took pictures and kept mementos of their own special events. Such collections were displayed on tables around the cultural hall. The tables showed the end result of some of the goals the girls had set in each of the six areas of focus. They also showed hobbies, talents, and contributions the girls had made in other areas such as school, home, church, and community.

Christie Gailey, the Laurel class president, said, “It was good to see how everyone helped to make it a special night and also how everyone got a chance to do what they wanted to do.”

Jana Packer, a Mia Maid, felt that “it gave us a chance to look at other hobbies and talents, and if we wanted to learn how to do some things, we could ask them to show us.”

Beehive JoLynn Stewart said, “Our class likes to dance and have fun, and we really liked being able to make up our own dance for the program. I didn’t think we were going to make it in time, but we did. It was fun.”

“It made me feel really good inside to be able to give a tribute to my mother on the program,” said Melissa Hemsley.

There are many different ways of sharing. Girls can share silently by quietly and unboisterously serving, befriending, building, and setting a good example; or girls can share outwardly by bearing their testimony and by sharing the gospel wherever they are. They can share by making food or articles and then giving them as gifts to someone who needs them. Or they can share by demonstrating a music, art, or literary talent. There is no end to the ways a girl can share. In Taylorsville, young women shared their time and talents for more than just one evening; that one evening was just simple recognition for hundreds of hours of thoughtful service.

Jody felt sad as he worked alone in the flower garden. He wished that Grandpa was here to help him. Hoeing weeds wasn’t much fun alone.
Mother came out the back door and crossed the yard to the garden. “Jody, I’m going to the hospital this afternoon to see Grandpa,” she said. “Do you want to come along?”
Jody kicked at a clump of dirt with his toe. “I don’t know,” he said.
“If you don’t want to go, you can stay with Mrs. Knight while I’m gone.”
“I want to see Grandpa,” Jody said slowly, “but, Mother, he just doesn’t seem like Grandpa anymore.”
His mother smoothed back the damp wisps of hair on Jody’s forehead. “I know, Jody. When Grandpa had his stroke, it affected his brain so that it doesn’t work the same anymore, and he can’t do very much. But Grandpa is still Grandpa.”
Jody sighed. He wanted Grandpa to be the way he was before his stroke.
Mother smiled at him gravely. “It’s the way things are, Jody. When you were a tiny baby, all you did was sleep and cry. Someone fed you and dressed you then—the nurses do that for Grandpa now—but today you can run and sing and do things for yourself. You’re different from what you were, but you’re still Jody.”
Jody thought about that for a while. Finally he said, “I guess I’ll go see Grandpa with you.”
“Good! We’ll go right after lunch.”
Jody began hoeing weeds again. If Grandpa is still Grandpa, he thought, then he must miss his flower garden. Grandpa always spent a lot of time in his garden and looking through the seed catalogs for new flowers to plant.
His thoughts gave Jody an idea. He went to the small shed where the garden supplies were kept and hung up the hoe the way Grandpa had taught him so that no one could step on it and get hurt. Then he chose a clay flower pot from a row of pots on the shelf.
Carrying the pot, he went back to the garden and looked at the bright clusters of flowers. The pansies were just beginning to bloom. Pansies were Grandpa’s favorite flower.
Jody chose the sturdiest pansy plant and dug around the roots carefully with a trowel. He lifted the plant gently, making sure that there was still plenty of soil around the roots, the way Grandpa had taught him. He put the plant into the pot, filled it with more soil, and watered it.
When Jody and his mother went into Grandpa’s room at the hospital, Grandpa was sitting in a wheelchair. Before, when he’d been here, Grandpa had seemed like a stranger and Jody had held back, a little frightened. Now he went directly up to Grandpa, kissed him, and put the flowerpot on the bedside stand beside him. “I brought you a plant, Grandpa,” he said.
Grandpa looked at the plant, then at Jody—he was smiling. He could only smile with one side of his mouth, but it was a real smile.
Jody slid his hand into Grandpa’s and smiled back. Grandpa isn’t a stranger, he thought. He’s still Grandpa.

Easter was a week away. Daddy told Oliver that today was called “Palm Sunday.”
“Why?” Oliver asked.
“When Jesus came into the city of Jerusalem, people were so happy to see Him,” Daddy said. “They waved palm branches and shouted, ‘Hosanna!’ That’s why we call it Palm Sunday.”
“Can we wave palm branches too?” Oliver asked.
Mommy smiled. “Well, we don’t have any palm trees. Let’s see what other branches we can find.”
Mommy, Daddy, and Oliver went outside and cut a few small branches off a tree in their yard. The branches didn’t have any leaves yet, just tiny blossoms.
Oliver waved his branch back and forth as he took it inside. “Hosanna!” he said, just like the people in the scriptures said when they saw Jesus. Then he helped Mommy put the pretty branches in a vase.
He liked looking at the branches while they ate dinner. He thought about the branches people waved when they saw Jesus.
The next day, Mommy pulled out a basket of plastic Easter eggs. “Let’s write down why we love Jesus. We’ll put our papers in the eggs and hang them on our special branches.”
Daddy got pens and paper. Oliver told Daddy what to write. Oliver said, “I love Jesus because He’s nice.”
Oliver helped fold up the paper. He put it inside a green plastic egg.
Daddy wrote, “I love Jesus because He understands how I feel.”
Mommy wrote, “Because of Jesus, someday we will see the people we love who have died.”
“Like baby Sophie?” Oliver asked.
Mommy gave him a big hug. “Yes! You will see your baby sister again one day. That’s because Jesus lived again after He died. Because of Him, all of us can live again too.”
“That makes me happy,” Oliver said.
“It makes us happy too,” Daddy said.
They filled lots of Easter eggs with things they loved about Jesus. Then Daddy tied strings through the eggs. Oliver helped hang the eggs on the tree. It looked so pretty!
“Let’s call it the Easter Tree,” Oliver said. He counted all the colorful eggs. “We have so many reasons we love Jesus!”