Gospel Story Finder

A recent letter from my amazing grandson serving in Oaxaca, Mexico, included this experience. From Elder Hunter Paul Clark:

"We had our last lesson with Jocabed and Enrique before they get baptized tomorrow. Jocabed was talking to us and said, 'I don’t think I have received my answer yet if the Church is—' then paused. After a few moments, she said, 'Nope, I have my answer: because I have seen the difference this has made in my family.' We didn’t have to say anything and the Spirit testified to her in the moment. I know that the Spirit is the teacher here and can testify to everyone that is willing to listen. I am so excited for them!
"The gospel has always been and was restored to bless families. The anti-Christ Korihor taught the people that there would be no Christ, and the women and the men began to commit whoredoms. Anti-Christ is anti-family, and anti-family is anti-Christ.
"I think of the great anguish and hopelessness we felt that day at Lake Powell. We would have done anything to bring Londyn back! I plead with you to build your foundation on Christ and His gospel by doing His teachings, that your houses do not fall and your children not perish.
"Tom Perry taught in one of our devotionals that the Church is the scaffolding that exists to perfect the individual and exalt eternal families."

“Dad loves to take his grandchildren on an imaginary lion hunt, where they all try to find a make-believe lion. First, they pretend to sit on the seat of a car. Then when they arrive at the airport, they climb invisible steps to get on the airplane. Once inside the plane, everyone fastens his safety belt and leans way back in his chair as the plane takes off. When the plane lands, everyone comes down the stairs and walks over to a jeep. They climb in and, because the jeep ride is bumpy, everyone joggles up and down.
“When the jeep stops, everyone jumps out and gets an imaginary rope and gun to put over his shoulder. They wade through long grass and reeds—swish-swish-swish. They come to a bridge and everyone crosses over it—clump-clump-clump. Then they come to the place where the lions are, and they throw their ropes up around a rock to secure them. They all climb up the rope to get into a cave so they can creep up on the lion. The lion roars—GRRRR!! All of the brave lion hunters run out of the cave, slide down the rope, go clumping over the bridge, run swishing through the reeds, take off their ropes and guns, get back into the jeep, and take the bumpy ride back to the airport. Finally they arrive back home safe and sound after a great trip!”

There was a time in my life when I strayed far from the principles I knew to be true. Because of this, I felt terribly unhappy. Although I believed that the Atonement worked for other people, in my mind I was too far gone for it to apply to me. I thought I wasn’t worth saving.
One Sunday morning I heard the bells of a nearby Christian church sounding the hymn “Did You Think to Pray?” (Hymns, no. 140). The music struck me, and for the first time in many months, I felt the Spirit. I cried as I realized Heavenly Father was using this hymn to let me feel His love and know that He would help me.
The repentance process was not easy, and many times I felt discouraged. But the feelings I felt that Sunday morning stayed with me, and after a time I returned to full activity and received my endowment in the Dallas Texas Temple.
Now when I hear that hymn, I am reminded of that tender moment when the One I thought had forgotten me showed His love in a way He knew I would receive it.
Jessica Blakely, New Mexico, USA

Christmas was a very exciting time for my brothers and me! Our parents would take us to see the decorative lights in Cape Town, which were always very impressive; there was always a Primary party celebrating Christmas and the birth of the Saviour—and our schools closed over the “Festive Season,” YEAH!
For weeks we would construct a letter to Father Christmas. We would write and rewrite the letter every time we saw something in the shops that we wanted. We would each state that we had been good boys and really needed the item we had put down for him to bring. We would give Dad the letter to mail, addressed to “Father Christmas, North Pole.” My dad worked in the post office, so we thought that if he posted it, it would get there much sooner.
We were chased to bed early on Christmas Eve as ‘Father Christmas will not visit us with presents,’ Mom said, if we were still awake. But first, we had to put out something for him to drink and eat. It was amazing to me how there were no presents under the tree when we went to bed but when we awoke, the presents had magically appeared and of course, Mom and Dad knew nothing about it.

For example, after much pondering and prayer, we decided to abandon our new dream home in Dallas, accept a job transfer, and move with six young children to Beijing. But we desperately desired spiritual confirmation for such a momentous move. Divine assurance did come to us, in the temple, as we read these words in the Doctrine and Covenants: “It is my will that you should . . . tarry not many days in this place; . . . think not of thy property. Go unto the eastern lands.”16 The voice of Jesus Christ in the scriptures, accompanied by powerful feelings from the Holy Ghost, unquestionably confirmed that our decision to move to China was right.

Desiree’s lower lip quivered as she watched her mother carry her dresses into the dry cleaner. She knew they wouldn’t be clean in time for church on Sunday. Mom had explained that to her, and Desiree had said that she understood, but now she wasn’t sure. When Mom came back, Desiree bit her lip to make it stop quivering. She didn’t want Mom to know she was upset.
“I want a new dress,” Desiree said when Mom got into the car. “It will be my first day in Sunbeams.”
“Sweetheart,” Mom answered, “you don’t need a new dress. Your dresses will be just fine when the smoky smell is gone.”
“But what will I wear on Sunday?” Desiree frowned.
“I don’t know yet,” Mom replied. “We’ll find something.” When Desiree sighed unhappily, Mom added, “Just be glad that no one was hurt in the fire.”
“What if I pray for a new dress?” Desiree asked.
Mom sighed. “I think it would be better to pray that some other little girl could get a new dress.”
“Why?”
“Well, it might be a good idea to focus on being thankful that we didn’t lose very much in the fire instead of worrying so much about things we want,” Mom explained. “We should pray for others to have the things they need.”
“We don’t have everything we need,” Desiree said.
“Yes, we do,” Mom said. “We might just have to wait a little while to get it all back.”
Desiree drew pictures in the frost-covered car window with her finger the rest of the way home. As she thought about what Mom had said about praying for others, she decided it would be a good idea. She knew of children her age who needed shoes, clothes, and even enough food to eat. The more she thought about them, the more sorry she felt for acting selfish. Her mother was right; she did have everything she needed.
“Hey, there are your cousins,” Mom said as they pulled into the driveway. Desiree’s cousins were standing on the front doorstep with a big plastic bag on the ground beside them.
After Mom parked the car, she let Desiree’s two cousins inside. They were both older than Desiree.
“Look what we have!” the girls exclaimed.
“What is it?” Desiree asked.
“When we heard about the fire, our mom helped us go through some of our things,” Angela, the oldest cousin, explained. “Here, you can have these.”
Desiree took the big plastic bag and eagerly opened it. Inside she found some toys, stuffed animals, and clothes. At the very bottom was a pretty Sunday dress. Desiree squealed with delight as she pulled the dress from the bag. “Look!”
Mom clapped her hands in surprise. “Oh my goodness! How did you girls know she needed a dress for her first Sunbeam class?”
Angela shook her head. “We didn’t.”
“Thank you!” Desiree cried happily.
“Remember to thank Heavenly Father, too,” Mom said. “He’s the one who inspired your aunt to send us the dress.”
“But how did He know? I didn’t pray for one—honest!” Desiree said.
Mom hugged Desiree and smiled through happy tears. “He knows what we need even before we ask Him, just like He knew we needed to get out of the house before we started smelling smoke. Remember?”
“Wow!” Desiree smiled. “He really does know everything.”
Carrying her new dress up the stairs, Desiree went into her room to pray in thanks.

But then my mind took me back to my first day of work nearly 40 years earlier. My father owned a bakery and baked bread that was distributed to many small markets in our city in southern Brazil. When I was a young child, I kept insisting that my father take me to work with him. One day he finally said yes!
My mother sewed a little white apron and a baker’s hat for me, and my dad and I went to the bakery. Together, we mixed and prepared dough, manually shaped the dough into loaves, and placed the loaves into the brick oven. When the bread finished baking, we used a long wooden paddle to carefully retrieve the bread. We waited for a few seconds, then we shared a loaf of the still-warm bread. It tasted wonderful!
Upon reflection, I decided that receiving an award at Cambridge was my second-best day of work. The best and happiest day at work was in a much more humble setting: a little bakery with no audience or standing ovation. It was just me and my dad. That day, he taught me to love and value work and helped me feel the joy of making something from scratch with my own hands. I learned that hard work is satisfying to both the body and the soul.
I can still hear the applause and the words of encouragement coming from that audience at the University of Cambridge, but more dear to me is the memory of my day at the bakery with my father and the smell of those loaves of bread as they came out of the oven.

In February, three stakes in the Suva, Fiji, area held a drive to collect food, household items, and school supplies for flood victims in northern and western Fiji.
Fiji was hit by continuous heavy rainfall earlier in the year, causing widespread flooding and localized landslides in the western and northern areas. Flooding led to several deaths and forced thousands to evacuate their homes.
As the floods raged through the western and northern regions of Fiji, local Church leaders immediately opened up meetinghouses as evacuation centers for people whose homes were in the path of the flood.
Elder Taniela Wakolo, Area Seventy and the Church’s Fiji Service Center manager, initiated the drive on February 6, shortly after local Church leaders were alerted about the flood. Members collected and sorted food, clothing, bedding, kitchenware, and school supplies; the items were then allocated to people in need.

I recall a young man who was in our stake when I served as a stake president. He traveled around with a crowd that thought it was smart to do things that were not right. On a few occasions he was caught in some minor violations. One day I got a call from the police station and was told he was being held because of a traffic violation. He had been caught speeding, as he had on a few other occasions prior to this time. Knowing the things he was doing might prevent him from going on a mission, he straightened up, and when he was 19 years of age, he received his call.

I shall never forget the talk we had when he returned. He told me that while he was in the mission field he had often thought of the trouble he had caused by the mistaken belief that the violation of little things was not important. But a great change had come into his life. He had come to the realization that there is no happiness or pleasure in violation of the law, whether it be God’s law or the laws that society imposes upon us. He said to me, “When I drive a car now and the speed limit is 55 miles an hour, I feel it is morally wrong to drive a single mile faster.”

I was impressed by the great change that had come over this young man while he served on his mission and studied moral principles. How unfortunate it is that he had to learn his lesson the hard way, but what a great blessing comes when there is the realization that one cannot be in violation and feel good about that conduct.

David had been playing for a little league team all season. More than anything else he wanted to be a regular on the team, and he wanted to be a pitcher. He never missed a practice or a game. Whenever his dad or his older brother could find the time, he’d get them to play catch with him. Even when David watched television he would wear his baseball mitt and pop a ball in and out of it almost automatically. Sometimes he’d forget to take the mitt off when his mother called him for meals, and then the family would have to wait while David put the mitt away, washed his hands, and came to the table.
Near the end of the season the coach told all the little leaguers they should meet at the ball park on a certain Sunday morning to have a special practice and to have their pictures taken. “I can’t come on Sunday,” said David.
“You’d better,” said the coach, “because we’re going to talk about our team for next year after we have our pictures taken.”
Usually, David ran home full of excitement after a ball game or a practice. But this night he was late, and he hardly answered when his family spoke to him. He was unusually quiet all week, but on Sunday he didn’t go to the ball park. On Monday he was at practice and at every practice afterward. Finally the day came for the team tryouts.
“You’ll be one of our regular pitchers,” the coach told David, “but you’ll have to play whenever a game is scheduled. We need you, and that will mean sometimes you will play on a Sunday.”
“I can’t play ball on Sundays,” David said.
“Then you’ll have to be a standby pitcher instead of a regular one,” answered the coach. And that is how it was all season. Sometimes David had a chance to pitch a game but more often he didn’t. The other boys on the team played on Sundays, but David went to Sunday School and sacrament meeting with his family.
In the spring when David was ten years old, the coach called the boys together to begin a new season and to make selections for the team. “We’ll need you for a regular pitcher this year, David,” he said. “But sometimes you’ll need to play on Sunday.”
“I’ll have to think about it,” said David. That night he talked the problem over with his dad, and then he said a special prayer for help to have the courage to do what he knew was right. The next day he told the coach he’d have to be just a standby pitcher again. The coach only shook his head.
Several weeks went by and David was at every practice. One night the coach called the boys around him. He explained that David couldn’t play ball on Sunday even though the team often had a game on that day. “But I’d like him to be our pitcher anyhow,” he went on. “If you agree, we could let David be our regular weekday pitcher and have a standby pitcher for Sunday games. How about it?”
There was a moment of silence. David could hardly breathe. The team members hesitated for only a minute, and then every little leaguer agreed wholeheartedly to the Sunday standby pitcher plan.

When I was young, one of my passions was playing football. For many years, I looked forward to high school so that I could try out for the team. Finally the day came, and I made it! During a practice not long before our first game, someone blocked me from the side. I hit the ground, and a few boys landed on me. I felt something in my shoulder snap. When I got up, my left arm hung like a wet noodle.
At the hospital, a doctor told me that my arm was broken. He wrapped it in a heavy, three-inch-thick cast, saying that the weight of the cast would pull the bone into place. It really did feel like someone was pulling on my arm! He prescribed some pain pills, told me to sleep in a chair for a few nights, and sent me home.
My shoulder kept hurting, and after a few days, my parents became worried. They asked another doctor to look at my X rays, and he thought that maybe the ball of my shoulder had been broken instead of the bone below it. When he took me into the operating room, he said, “If you wake up with your arm raised above your head in a cast, you’ll know that we were able to properly set the bone. If your arm is lying down, you’ll know that we had to operate.”
Eight hours later, I woke up with my arm at my side. My shoulder had been broken through the growth center. It was a good thing that I was nearly full-grown at age fourteen! My left arm is now an inch and a half (about 4 cm) shorter than my right arm. The doctors had had to break the bone again because it had healed in the wrong place. They also had to insert two metal screws to hold the bones together. Those screws are still in my shoulder today.
The doctors told me I should never play football again. If I were to get injured, the metal pins could splinter my bones and I could lose my arm. I was disappointed that I could no longer play the sport I loved so much.
After a few days of thinking about it, I accepted my limitation and decided I could switch to basketball. While my left arm was still in the cast, I found that I could shoot baskets with my right hand. I worked hard to compensate for this injury, and after three successful years on the high school team, I accepted a basketball scholarship to Brigham Young University.
This experience taught me to always keep a positive attitude, to never lose hope. Even when bad things happen, have the courage to alter your course and find new things to do.

Another time I was in a distant city. After a conference we were ordaining and setting apart leaders. As we concluded, the stake president asked, “Can we ordain a young man to be an elder who is leaving for the mission field?” The answer, of course, was yes.

As the young man came forward, he motioned for three brethren to follow and stand in for his ordination.

I noticed on the back row a carbon copy of this boy, and I asked, “Is that your father?”

The young man said, “Yes.”

I said, “Your father will ordain you.”

And he protested, “But I’ve already asked another brother to ordain me.”

And I said, “Young man, your father will ordain you, and you’ll live to thank the Lord for this day.”

Then the father came forward.

Thank goodness he was an elder. Had he not been, he soon could have been! In the military they would call that a battlefield commission. Sometimes such things are done in the Church.

The father did not know how to ordain his son. I put my arm around him and coached him through the ordinance. When he was finished, the young man was an elder. Then something wonderful happened. Completely changed, the father and son embraced. It was obvious that had never happened before.

The father, through his tears, said, “I didn’t get to ordain my other boys.”

Think how much more was accomplished than if another had ordained him, even an Apostle.

Fourth, we are teachable when we can trust in the Lord. Sometimes we won’t know in advance; sometimes in our lives we will “wait upon the Lord”10 for a long time. But we still need to ready ourselves. We need to be learning even though the specific opportunities to express what we are learning may not be as apparent or as exciting as we wish.
I gained an appreciation of this point a few weeks ago when I accompanied my sister, Diane, to St. George, Utah. Her three children sing in the Utah Valley Children’s Choir, and she wanted to hear their concert. I wanted to sleep or read; she convinced me I could do both in the car while she drove.
The kids had worked hard, paying attention to Beverly Thomas’s direction, learning lyrics, rehearsing harmony, and trying to show up at performances in the appropriate outfits. After their last concert, the kids had a chance to stop in Zion National Park on the way home. Diane and I pulled up alongside the bus as it unloaded sixty noisy kids who raced up the path to Weeping Rock. We decided it would be safer to wait in the parking lot.
All of a sudden it was strangely quiet in the canyon. We couldn’t see the kids. And then truly angelic sounds filled the canyon. People in the parking lot who were not with our group stopped. We all heard words echoing in the canyon:
We will sing, for the Lord is list’ning,He hears the praise of our hearts.We will sing, for the Lord is list’ning.We lift our voices and start to sing for the Lord.11
It was a beautiful moment of clarity and harmony.
When the song ended, there was a joyous shout followed by the more familiar chaotic noises of kids racing back to the bus. When they got back, their excitement and joy was tangible: “Did you hear us?” They relayed the story of an older couple who were nearby as the group started hiking. When they offered to sing to them, the couple smiled and started to back away, only to stand transfixed as the kids began singing.
Now when these kids started choir, nobody promised them a perfect moment in Zion National Park on April 29, but there it was. If they had not been ready—individually prepared and collectively willing to participate—they could not have had that experience. It is one thing to arrive at a place like Zion’s Weeping Rock and realize, yes, this could be a great place for a group of kids to spontaneously experience the product of their learning and the Lord’s love through music and quite another to feel “Oh, here is the place you have prepared, and, having been taught, I am ready.”

When you first talk to Danny Ray, an 18-year-old elder in the Fredericton Ward of the Saint John New Brunswick Stake, he’ll tell you he’s “into a lot of things.” He’ll talk about his first year at the University of New Brunswick, his preparation for a mission, and how he serves as a stake missionary and doubles as a Primary teacher, instructing the Sunbeams.
And then he mentions his interest in bats. Whoa!
Danny’s made a hobby of making friends with numerous little brown bats, the species indigenous to his area of eastern Canada.
“Each bat can eat 600 mosquitoes in an hour,” he proudly states. “We have a lot of insects where we live.” The way Danny looks at it, the bats provide a public service by ridding the neighborhood of the pesky insect.
So enamored of bats is Danny that he’s been known to let the nocturnal mammal fly around his room—with his mother’s blessing. “Mom’s fine with it,” he says.
So chances are that wherever Danny serves his mission, he’ll find a bat or two before he’s through.

Aioo Suisala just turned 19. He works to earn money for his mission. On Saturdays and during school vacations he works with Letane and Sosaia at nearby plantations with many of the other people from the village. They get to the fields either by walking or riding horses. At the plantations they weed the taro plants, fumigate, pick bananas, and check how the pineapples are ripening.
On Sundays Aioo, who is assistant ward clerk, Sosaia, and Letane attend Church meetings and take care of their responsibilities in the ward. Their chapel is less than ten years old, and the local Saints helped to build it. Aioo and Sosaia both remember working on it.
Aioo stands in stake conference in Pesega as he is sustained to be ordained to the Melchizedek Priesthood. He has been looking forward to and preparing for this day for a long time because it means that he is almost ready to go on his mission.

One moment that will always stand out in my mind was the day I came home from the hospital after I was diagnosed with leukemia. The young women and Relief Society sisters had moved my stuff from the basement into a room on the main floor so I would be closer to my parents and wouldn’t have to use the stairs. They had cleaned and decorated the room to make a great place for me to live while I was sick. My family was the recipient of many other service projects. In the beginning, it was hard for me to accept service. When people would do service for me, it would make me feel like I couldn’t do anything for myself. However, I soon learned that it was OK to ask for help. When I started feeling better, I began looking for opportunities to serve other people more. Now I try to serve as much as I can. I get a good feeling when I serve other people. I have come to realize that by letting other people serve me, I allow them the same good feelings.

Her desire to share the gospel blessed her when faced with a challenge with custom officers at the border.
Josey’s father passed away while living in Cote d’Ivoire. Josey and her brother were tasked with bringing her father’s body back to Togo for burial. They spent all the money their family had gathered hiring an ambulance to drive the 14 hours from Cote d’Ivoire to Togo. She was able to share the gospel and her testimony with the ambulance driver and her brother as they drove both day and night over bumpy roads. She even spoke to her father about the gospel, feeling that his spirit would listen to her too.
When they reached the Ghanaian border, the customs officer would not let them pass. She pleaded with him to let them pass because they had already spent a lot of time on the road and the journey wasn’t easy. She was also concerned that the air conditioning in the ambulance was not strong enough to keep the body from deteriorating. But still, the officer would not let them pass.
Because she had no money, the officer finally said that they could go if she would give him one of her possessions. She took out a pamphlet that told the story of the Restoration of the gospel and wrote her name and phone number in it. “This is all I have, but it is worth more than money, so you can keep it,” she said. “If you want to know more about this you can call me later, or if all you want is money, call me and I will bring it to you later.” He took the pamphlet and let her pass.
She wasn’t sure if the officer ever read the pamphlet, but her faith influenced the ambulance driver. “I will visit your church,” he said. “I like your spirit and it kept me going all the way to Togo.”

Several years earlier, at the death of our infant son, I had blamed myself for the loss. An understanding doctor wisely counseled that this was common, but nonetheless wrong. A grieving person naturally searches for something he might have done to prevent tragedy. “Don’t give in to the temptation to blame yourself,” he advised.
Following the Church court, I found myself falling into this trap again. Gradually I realized I could neither control nor take responsibility for my husband’s actions. I began to concentrate on the things I could control and change in myself.
At the same time I tried to accept not only my situation, but my husband as well. I learned that comparing our spiritual progress to that of other couples was useless. When I read about exemplary fathers and husbands, I still struggled with discouragement. Yet I was able to tell myself, “Their situations are different. The Lord will help me with mine.” As I expressed gratitude for blessings I did have, a loving acceptance grew within me. Along with it, the attitude in our entire family improved. To my amazement, I discovered times when I was happier and more at peace than I’d been in years.
Sometimes I hesitated asking for certain blessings, fearing that my husband’s situation might prevent our receiving them. The Lord quickly dismissed my apprehension, however, and over the years presented us with material and spiritual blessings.
My self-esteem had been shattered by our experience with the disfellowshipment. I was busy many hours each week, serving as president of one of the ward auxiliaries. How could the Lord, or for that matter, the bishop, possibly expect me to continue in this calling? Emotionally and physically, I was drained. But nothing was mentioned concerning my release, and I stayed in that position. I later understood this to be the Lord’s way of demonstrating a need for my abilities. At the same time, our children continued to do well in and out of school. Here the Lord was assuring me that we weren’t failing as parents. These experiences lifted me and convinced me of my worth.
As the weeks, months, and years went by, the pain sometimes grew less and sometimes grew stronger. I got used to most people avoiding the issue in conversation. Few got past the fear of not knowing what to say, and so said nothing. I’ll always appreciate the friend who sincerely asked, “How are things going?” and listened patiently as I told her.
The Lord continued to comfort and teach me. Often I complained about my husband’s unwillingness to change. Without exception, Heavenly Father refused to accept my criticism. Through inspiration he referred me, in a loving way, to scriptures on tolerance. He also reminded me of my special role as a wife. I was convinced that parts of Doctrine and Covenants 25, where the Lord calls Emma Smith to aid and comfort her husband, applied as much to me as to Emma. Over and over I read this section, each time believing more in my husband’s worth.
I prayed regularly for an increase in love toward my husband. The Lord answered in unusual, but practical ways. I sought opportunities to give of myself, knowing those we serve become those we love. I didn’t have to look far, as my husband was hurt in three minor accidents within a year. During his short convalescent periods at home I provided emotional care and concern. I was rewarded many times over with greater love and appreciation for him.
I realized, too, that my service didn’t need to be a huge undertaking. Since my husband was away from home much of the time, I tried to make him the center of my attention when he was at home. Saying something positive or complimentary to him each day grew from a challenge into a habit. I also refrained from criticizing my husband, either to him or anyone else. These small efforts worked wonders. Like a dying plant rediscovering light and nourishment, our love regained vitality.
I drew great comfort and hope from the twenty-seventh chapter of Mosiah. Here an angel appears to Alma the Younger because of the faith and prayers of his father. (See Mosiah 27:8–17.) Through this scripture the Lord assured me that he answers prayers said in behalf of others. I have made it a point to never cease praying for my husband. More difficult, but just as important, is maintaining faith that one day his heart will change.
Charity, I’ve also discovered, is a gift from God. Shortly after the Church court, I was suddenly consumed with a deep affection and acceptance for my husband. I longed to help and support him in every possible way. This sweet sensation stayed long enough for me to realize that I wanted it always. I pray regularly, as Moroni suggested, “with all the energy of heart [to] be filled with this love.” (Moro. 7:48.)
My husband has now been reinstated into the Church. Though many changes for good have come, his gospel commitment and spiritual desire for activity have yet to return. I’ve accepted the fact, however, that only he can control those things. Instead of focusing on our failures, I can now express gratitude for the things we’re doing right. I’ve discovered, to my surprise, that it’s possible to be happy in any situation. I’ve also learned that through the most painful experience of my life has come my greatest growth.

Of these women, the only one I had known was my cousin Olga.
Olga, who was from Italy, married at a very young age, but sadly, her husband was violent and unfaithful to her. With the help of her father and her brother, Olga decided to escape when she was expecting her fifth child.
She went to live with her parents and brother. After the birth of her child, Olga passed away. Olga’s parents never recovered from the shock of her sudden death.

The bugle blared, and Elizabeth knew it was time for morning prayers. The night had seemed so short, and her weary little body shook in the chilly autumn air. She quickly pulled her long ragged dress over her head and tugged her worn boots over her tired feet. Mother met her with little John, and together they walked to the center of the handcart circle where her father, John, stood with his bugle.
Father was the bugler for the company. Each morning he called the company to prayer. Afterward, his bugle call started the carts on the trail. At night he called them to a halt. It was also his job to ration out the flour.
How sad he looks today, Elizabeth thought as she longed for the time when things would be nice again. Her body was always tired now, and her stomach was never full.
Everyone had been happy that day in August when Edward Martin had led this band of 576 handcart-pulling Saints on the first leg of their overland journey to Zion. They were so confident the Lord would protect them that they ignored President Brigham Young’s advice to start their journey early in the warm season with carts made of well-seasoned wood.
Because of a misunderstanding between English and American agents, the handcarts for the last two companies, headed by Captains Martin and Willie, had not been ready when the immigrants arrived in Iowa City from England. Ignoring warnings from experienced frontiersmen, the enthusiastic Saints stocked their small boxlike carts with flour, bedding, cooking utensils, and clothing for the long journey. Only seventeen pounds of personal belongings were allowed for each person; even that would be difficult to push and pull up steep hills and through cold rivers.
The green wood the carts were made from soon dried out on the long, hot journey and fell apart. When supplies were shifted to other carts, badly needed clothing and bedding were discarded.
The sound of sobs and sighs brought Elizabeth’s thoughts back to the present. Elizabeth could see tears running down her father’s face, too, as he reported to the company that he had just rationed out the last of the flour. Elizabeth knew that the Lord had always taken care of them before, and she prayed that somehow they would be taken care of now.
Gathering their strength, the pioneers pushed forward, and the faint strains of a familiar hymn could be heard above the creaking wheels of the carts. The snow that had begun to fall as they crossed the partially frozen North Platte River had turned into a blizzard. Father took Elizabeth and John into his arms and explained to them that the exhausted Saints could no longer go on. They would rest here until the Lord found a way to take care of them.
Father and Mother took out their battered tin plates and dug away at the deep snow to make a clearing for their tent. With great effort Father pounded the tent pegs into the frozen ground. Here the family waited with uncertainty.
As the days dragged on, a number of the Saints died from hunger, cold, and exhaustion. The food supply was now completely gone. Elizabeth and the other children had begun to scavenge the area for anything they could find to eat.
One day the children wandered among the willows, eating the bark from young trees to take the edge off their hunger. Suddenly a group of horsemen appeared at the top of a nearby hill. Indians! was Elizabeth’s first thought, but the frightened children were too weak to scamper off. As the horsemen approached, Elizabeth saw that the riders were members of a rescue party. The children were happy to see them and happier still to taste the crackers they had brought. The crackers weren’t a feast, but they were enough to keep the emigrant company alive until wagons loaded with more nourishing provisions arrived four days later.
Finally Elizabeth’s tired and ragged family, together with the rest of their company, straggled into Salt Lake Valley. Word of their arrival preceded them, and Brigham Young had sent the local members home from worship meeting early. After announcing that the afternoon meeting would be omitted, President Young said, “I wish the sisters to go home and prepare to give those who have just arrived a mouthful of something to eat, and to wash them and nurse them up. You know that I would give more for a dish of pudding and milk or a baked potato and salt, were I in the situation of those persons who have just come in, than I would for all your prayers, though you were to stay here all afternoon and pray. Prayer is good, but when baked potatoes and milk are needed, prayer will not supply their place.” (Deseret News, December 10, 1856, p. 320.)
That night as Elizabeth snuggled down in a cozy warm bed at the home of one of the kind sisters, she dreamed of the delicious dinner she had just eaten. Her stomach was full for the first time in months. The aroma of warm food still clung to the air, and her eyes began to close. Elizabeth knew that prayer had seen her family safely across the long frozen plains. She thanked the Lord now for baked potatoes and milk!