Gospel Story Finder

Chandler also lives what she believes. Not long ago her family was fostering a dog they called Puppy. Puppy had been mistreated the first nine months of his life, then was taken away from the people who mistreated him. But he was now skittish and frightened of people. Before he could be adopted, he had to learn to trust people and to get along with children. Teaching him that was what the Altieri family volunteered to do.
One day, he got loose and ran away. “We looked and looked for him,” Sister Altieri said, “but we couldn’t find him. Some of us got in the car to go looking for him. As I was driving, Chandler said a prayer, asking Heavenly Father to help us find Puppy. We had driven miles, and I thought that we’d never see the dog again. We turned down a road that ran along railroad tracks. Beside the tracks were thick woods. And by the railroad track, we could just see this head sticking up—it was Puppy! I’ll never forget it.”
Mom said how amazed she was that they found Puppy. “But we said a prayer, Mom,” was Chandler’s simple reply. She knows that Heavenly Father answers her prayers. Eventually Puppy learned to trust people and to play with children, and he was adopted by a good family.

When I was 10, my mother moved us from New York to Utah, away from my father and the rest of our extended family. What was meant to be the two of us quickly became just me, as I rarely saw my mom due to her extensive work hours.
I grew accustomed to being alone. Although I was sometimes lonely, I often preferred solitude to my mom’s company. Behind closed doors, she was very controlling, and her emotions were unstable due to mental illness. I did my best to avoid upsetting her. She often had sporadic outbursts of anger where I endured harsh yelling and hurtful words.
During this time, church and seminary were places of refuge. I looked forward to those moments where I felt the Spirit, because they sustained me the rest of the week.
At times, my mom’s words challenged my faith. She was supposed to teach me what was right. But if I was doing what was right, then why was I suffering?
The Spirit reminded me that the gospel is perfect but people are imperfect. I couldn’t let her influence my thoughts and testimony of the gospel. Even so, I let my doubts get the better of me for a time.
When I went to college, I wondered what would happen if I stopped going to church, reading my scriptures, or praying. It was the worst experiment of my life! After two months, I felt like Heavenly Father was telling me, “Never do that again!” Feeling the light of the gospel return to my life really helped me realize how much Christ had been with me through my difficult, lonely childhood.
As I strengthened my relationship with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ, I realized that things with my mom needed to change. I knew then that He had been with me throughout my childhood and that He would be with me as I tried to mend my heart and forgive my mom.
My mom and I decided to attend counseling, but she soon stopped coming. Once again, I was left alone, wondering if she even cared about me. But once again, Christ did not leave me alone.
As I continued to attend, He helped me change my expectations for my mom. I knew that I couldn’t change her, but I could forgive her while establishing boundaries to protect myself from further harm.
Elder Gerrit W. Gong of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles said: “When hurt and pain are deep, repairing our relationships and healing our hearts is hard, perhaps impossible for us on our own. But heaven can give us strength and wisdom beyond our own to know when to hold on and how to let go.”
By far the most important part of my healing has been putting the Savior first in my life. I try to keep myself as close to Him as possible, and I’ve seen how strong His power really is.
To me, true happiness is a relationship with Jesus Christ. He can bring light and joy to even the darkest of places.
And, to my surprise, happiness is now also family. I’m married and have a daughter of my own, and I do all I can to be a good example to her and to help her feel the power of Christ in her life. Although my family relationships used to be a source of pain, Christ has helped me realize that I can have happiness in my family when He is part of it.
Elder L. Tom Perry (1922-2015) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles taught, “Family is the center of life and is the key to eternal happiness.”
If you are currently experiencing hardship in your family or are trying to heal, lean on Christ. He’s the only person who truly understands, and He can help you forgive, heal, and know how to move forward with those relationships.
As you build a relationship with Christ, He will be your foundation.

Last year, my wife, Maggie, and I ran the Jungfrau-Marathon in Switzerland. Set in the heart of the Swiss Alps, it is considered one of the most difficult marathons in the world. From start to finish, the course climbs over 6,400 feet, or 1,900 meters, as it winds through beautiful alpine villages and rugged, high-mountain terrain. The views carry you through the early miles, but the final stretch turns steep and narrow, forcing runners to hike the rocky path in single file. The last ascent demands careful attention to every step. In this race you are not just crossing a finish line; you are conquering a mountain.

So imagine our surprise when we learned that one of the runners who finished this race was blind. This courageous man ran tethered to a guide. For most of the race, they ran side by side, but as the course turned steeper and more demanding, the guide moved ahead, calling out every obstacle and directing each step. Because he was bound to a guide, the blind runner accomplished what would otherwise be impossible alone.

I graduated from Liahona High at age 18 ½. About 98% of my classmates were going on missions; both boys and girls. Realizing that I was not 19, I decided that I will focus on coming to school in Hawaii. I returned to Fiji and my classmates immediately started their missions. I was really looking forward to coming to Hawaii. I had never dreamt of the opportunity, so the excitement was high.

Each time I ran into my classmates, as missionaries, they would ask me:"Hiagi, when are you going to join us?" I would then reply: " I am not going on a mission. I am going to Church College of Hawaii."

The need for missionaries was great for the government of Fiji allowed just 6 outside elders. I knew that.

I met the District President, Bro. Blaine Anderson, a retired army colonel from Salt Lake City, Utah. He said, "Hiagi, are you ready for your mission." I replied: 'No, I am not," somewhat in an impatient tone of voice. He then said: "What did the Lord say in Matthew Chapter 6:33?" I then replied:

'But seek ye first the kingdom of God and all its righteousness and all things shall be added upon."

Then he said: "What do you think." I replied: "I am not going on my mission. I am going to school in Hawaii."

It was a week later in a district general priesthood meeting. I was sitting at the back of the chapel. Pres. Anderson was conducting the meeting. I knew he was going to call me to bear my testimony. Just then, he announced: "And now, we will like to invite Bro. Wesley to bear his testimony." I walked to the front, bore my testimony, and with tears streaming down my face, said: "I am ready for my mission. I will go where you want me to go dear Lord.'"

By the end of that week, I had collected the 2-3 white shirts and pants I had and very few other things including any neck ties in the house and went into my mission. It was shortly afterwards when I officially received my signed missionary call from President David O. McKay.

It all started one summer night when I was talking with my best friend, Terry.
Terry was a little older, so he would be going on his mission sooner than I would. He was talking about his mission, when I suddenly realized: “Hey, that’s going to be my situation real quick.”
I had always been active in the Church, and I had always been very obedient. But still the thought hit me like a thunderbolt: “You think you’re so good, but how strong is your testimony?”
What was I going to do? I realized I needed to read the Book of Mormon. But I felt I needed a quiet place, and I was the oldest of six children. Things got pretty noisy in our small house and small yard. There was no secluded grove in our neighborhood. My first consideration was to find a spot where I could get away by myself.
A few years before, my dad had bought a used limousine because we had a big family and it had an extra row of seats. The car had not been working for a while and was parked in back of our house under our old basketball hoop. Inside that car was the only place I could think of to go where I could have some quiet and solitude while I read the Book of Mormon uninterrupted.
I don’t remember exactly what part I was reading when a good feeling came over me. I was overcome with emotion, with tears running down my cheeks. This was unusual for me. I couldn’t imagine crying over something I read in a book. I felt an overwhelming peace and reassurance, knowing that I was receiving communication from Heavenly Father. I had no doubts. I knew that the Book of Mormon was the word of God. And I knew I was ready to go on my mission.

We have seen Brenda's kind of faith and miracle reversed. About eight years ago we were informed that Eric Anderson, who had suffered since babyhood from Cystic Fibrosis, was in the hospital, his lung capacity almost gone and had only days, perhaps hours to live. Carolyn and I thought we must go see this living miracle once more before the miracle yielded up the ghost.
You see Eric was told when he was little that he would never participate in sports, never go a mission, never go to college, never get married or raise a family. He survived on priesthood blessings. When Eric first went to college his doctor wrote on his application to BYU-Provo that he was living on borrowed time. But Eric's faith and the faith of others sustained him. He went on a mission to Florida South Mission, but fell desperately ill and was given 72 hours to live. He recovered miraculously because of faith and the help of a world renowned Cystic Fibrosis specialist who treated him very aggressively. He completed a successful mission, married Arlene in 1986 in the Manti Temple, and became the proud father of four beautiful children all the while literally fighting for life and breath from day to day.
I shall never forget going into the hospital room. Eric was sitting on the bed, emaciated and struggling for breath, albeit he was serene, almost heavenly. He said to us "I'm so glad you came because I have just at this moment reached a milestone in my life."
"What milestone is that?" I asked.
Just this morning in my prayers I was able for the first time in my life to say to Heavenly Father, "Thy will be done" and really mean it. I have always held back that complete and final offering to the Lord, that He take my life if it is his will. I was completely and totally eager to do what He willed.His will was my will. I am free and at peace now.
Carolyn and I felt like we were on sacred ground when we walked out. We were sure we would never Eric Anderson alive again. How delighted and surprised we were when we heard that Eric was sustained in his effort to go back to the doctor in Florida that had saved his life on a mission. When he went to Florida he was only 108 pounds and was on four liters of oxygen. Three months later, he returned home running down the concourse, weighing 130 pounds and totally off the oxygen. He is truly a walking miracle. Eric is still walking and has served in several Church positions, continuing to be a light and an example wherever he goes.

With a full schedule ahead of me, I dashed out the door early, my backpack full to bursting with the textbooks, self-defense uniform, dance shoes, sack lunch, and sack dinner I would need to survive yet another busy college day. I had two tests I didn’t feel prepared for, reading I hadn’t finished, and not enough time to get everywhere I needed to go that day.
Wearing the skirt I would need for my dance test, I felt ridiculous with my huge backpack and desperate that I wouldn’t be on time to my first class. When I tripped and fell in the middle of a busy intersection in front of dozens of students and cars, my embarrassment and frustration, along with the hole in my new nylons, pushed me to tears. Seven o’clock in the morning, and I was already crying.
As I picked myself up and hobbled to school, I prayed fervently for the Lord to send someone to cheer me up. It would have been nice to see my mom, but she was two states away. Maybe the Lord could answer my prayer through one of my roommates visiting one of my classes. Or maybe He would send that boy in the ward whom I liked so much.
I looked around expectantly as I hurried to my first class but didn’t see anyone I knew. I took my first test, still in tears, and rushed to my second class, arriving late. I was still upset as I ran to my third class and as I hurried to get ready for my next test. I did better on my test than I had expected and was calming down a little when I found a quiet hallway where I could eat my lunch while studying. I was bent over my books when I heard someone call my name.
I looked up to see my visiting teacher, whom I had never before seen on campus. She sat down next to me, and we talked for almost an hour—not about my frustrations that day but about things that were going well for me, our plans, and things that worried her.
It wasn’t until she left that I remembered my pleading prayer that morning. Of course the Lord would answer my prayer through the woman called to watch over me. I had wanted someone to cheer me up early that morning, but He knew I’d be ready to see a friend later in the day—when I had calmed down enough to be able to receive the comfort I needed and to extend comfort to another who had her own challenges.
The Lord knew me and sent me exactly what I needed exactly when I needed it.

On October 17, 1989, while driving home after work, I was approaching a stoplight at the intersection of Market and Beale Streets in San Francisco, California. At that moment I felt the car shake and thought, “I must have a flat tire.” As the car continued to shake, I noticed a bus quite close to me and thought, “That bus just hit me!” Then the car shook more and more, and I thought, “I must have four flat tires!” But it wasn’t flat tires or the bus—it was a powerful earthquake! As I stopped at the red light, there were ripples in the pavement like waves of the sea rolling down Market Street. In front of me a tall office building was swaying from side to side, and bricks began falling from an older building to my left as the earth continued to shake.
The Loma Prieta earthquake struck the San Francisco Bay Area at 5:04 p.m. that day and left as many as 12,000 people homeless.
The earthquake caused severe damage in the San Francisco Bay Area, most notably on unstable soil in San Francisco and Oakland. In San Francisco, the Marina District had been “built on a landfill made of a mixture of sand, dirt, rubble, … and other materials containing a high percentage of groundwater. Some of the fill was rubble dumped into San Francisco Bay after the 1906 San Francisco earthquake.”1
In about 1915, apartment buildings were erected on the landfill. In the 1989 earthquake, the water-saturated unconsolidated mud, sand, and rubble converted to a liquid-like mass, causing the buildings to collapse. The buildings were not built on a sure foundation.
The Loma Prieta earthquake impacted many lives, including my own. Pondering the events of that day reaffirms in my mind and heart that in order to successfully withstand the tempests, earthquakes, and calamities of life, we must build upon a sure foundation.
The Nephite prophet Helaman gave unmistakable clarity to the importance of building our lives on a sure foundation, even the foundation of Jesus Christ: “And now, my sons, remember, remember that it is upon the rock of our Redeemer, who is Christ, the Son of God, that ye must build your foundation; that when the devil shall send forth his mighty winds, yea, his shafts in the whirlwind, yea, when all his hail and his mighty storm shall beat upon you, it shall have no power over you to drag you down to the gulf of misery and endless wo, because of the rock upon which ye are built, which is a sure foundation, a foundation whereon if men build they cannot fall” (Helaman 5:12).
In the development of modern-day temples, careful attention is given to the design, engineering, and use of building materials. Thorough testing of the soils and geology takes place on the site where a temple will be built. Studies of wind, rain, and changes in the weather for the area are considered so that the completed temple can withstand not only storms and climate common to an area, but the temple is designed and positioned to withstand the unexpected earthquakes, typhoons, floods, and other natural calamities that may occur. In many temples, concrete or steel piles are driven deep into the earth to anchor the temple foundation.
Like the designers and builders of our time, our loving and kind Father in Heaven and His Son have prepared plans, tools, and other resources for our use so that we can build and frame our lives to be sure and unshaken. The plan is the plan of salvation, the great plan of happiness. The plan lays out for us a clear picture and understanding of the beginning and the end and the essential steps, including ordinances, which are necessary for each of Father’s children to be able to return to His presence and dwell with Him forever.
Faith, repentance, baptism, the gift of the Holy Ghost, and enduring to the end are part of the “blueprints” of life. They help to form the appropriate building blocks that will anchor our lives to the Atonement of Christ. These shape and frame the supporting structure of a person’s life. Then, just as temple plans have specifications that give detailed instructions about how to form and integrate essential components, praying, reading the scriptures, partaking of the sacrament, and receiving essential priesthood ordinances become the “specifications” that help integrate and bind together the structure of life.
Balance in the application of these specifications is vital. For example, in the process of making concrete, precise amounts of sand, gravel, cement, and water are used in order to achieve maximum strength. An incorrect amount or exclusion of any portion of these elements would make the concrete weak and not able to perform its important function.
In like manner, if we do not provide for an appropriate balance in our lives of daily personal prayer and feasting from the scriptures, weekly strengthening from partaking of the sacrament, and frequent participation in priesthood ordinances such as temple ordinances, we too are at risk of being weakened in our spiritual structural strength.
Paul, in a letter to the Ephesians, said it this way, which we can apply to the need for a balanced and integrated development of our character and soul: “In whom all the building fitly framed together groweth unto an holy temple in the Lord” (Ephesians 2:21).
Prayer is one of the most basic and important foundational building blocks of our faith and character. Through prayer we are able to express our gratitude, love, and devotion to God. Through prayer we can submit our will to His and in return receive the strength to conform our lives to His teachings. Prayer is the avenue we can follow to seek His influence in our lives, even revelation.
Alma taught, “Counsel with the Lord in all thy doings, and he will direct thee for good; yea, when thou liest down at night lie down unto the Lord, that he may watch over you in your sleep; and when thou risest in the morning let thy heart be full of thanks unto God; and if ye do these things, ye shall be lifted up at the last day” (Alma 37:37).
Sharing our thoughts, feelings, and desires with God through sincere and heartfelt prayer should become to each of us as important and natural as breathing and eating.
Searching the scriptures on a daily basis will also fortify our faith and character. Just as we need food to nourish our physical bodies, our spirits and souls will be replenished and strengthened by feasting upon the words of Christ as contained in the writings of the prophets. Nephi taught, “Feast upon the words of Christ; for behold, the words of Christ will tell you all things what ye should do” (2 Nephi 32:3).
While reading the scriptures is good, reading by itself is insufficient to capture the full breadth and depth of the Savior’s teachings. Searching, pondering, and applying the words of Christ as taught in the scriptures will bring wisdom and knowledge beyond our mortal understanding. This will strengthen our commitment and provide the spiritual reserves to do our best in all situations.
One of the most important steps we can take to strengthen our lives and remain firmly attached to the foundation of the Savior is to worthily partake of the sacrament each week. The sacrament ordinance affords every Church member the opportunity to ponder his or her life in advance, to consider the actions or nonactions that may need to be repented of, and then to partake of the bread and water as sacred emblems in remembrance of the body and blood of Jesus Christ, a witness of His Atonement. If we partake with sincerity and in humility, we renew eternal covenants, are cleansed and sanctified, and receive the promise that we will have His Spirit to be with us always. The Spirit acts as a type of mortar, a welding link that not only sanctifies but also brings all things to our remembrance and testifies again and again of Jesus Christ. Worthily partaking of the sacrament strengthens our personal connection to the foundation rock, even to Jesus Christ.
During His ministry the Savior taught with love and clarity the doctrines, principles, and necessary actions that would preserve our lives and strengthen our character. At the end of the Sermon on the Mount, He stated:
“Therefore, whoso heareth these sayings of mine and doeth them, I will liken him unto a wise man, [which] built his house upon a rock—
“And the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew, and beat upon that house; and it fell not, for it was founded upon a rock.
“And every one that heareth these sayings of mine and doeth them not shall be likened unto a foolish man, [which] built his house upon the sand—
“And the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew, and beat upon that house; and it fell, and great was the fall of it” (3 Nephi 14:24–27; see also Matthew 7:24–27).
Brothers and sisters, none of us would knowingly construct our homes, places of work, or sacred houses of worship on sand or rubble or without appropriate plans and materials. Let us accept the Savior’s invitation to come unto Him. Let us build our lives upon a safe and a sure foundation.
I humbly testify that by anchoring our lives to Jesus Christ and to His Atonement and by carefully following His plans for our happiness, including daily prayer, daily scripture study, and weekly partaking of the sacrament, we will be strengthened, we will experience real personal growth and a lasting conversion, we will be better prepared to successfully withstand the storms and calamities of life, we will experience the joy and happiness promised, and we will have the confidence that our lives have been built upon a sure foundation—a foundation that will never fall. In the sacred name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Although many of our experiences in the house of the Lord are too sacred to share publicly, some we can share. Forty years ago, while living in Florida, Kathy and I traveled to the temple in Atlanta, Georgia. On Wednesday night, May 9, 1984, as we completed a session in the temple, an ordinance worker approached me and asked if I had time to do just one preparatory initiatory ordinance. The name of the person I represented was unusual. His name was Eleazer Cercy.
The next day, the temple was full of Saints. As I prepared to perform my second endowment of the day, I was given the name of the person I would represent. Surprisingly, the name was the same individual from the night before, Eleazer Cercy. I felt the Spirit of the Lord as the endowment was completed. Later in the afternoon, still in the temple, Kathy saw an elderly family friend, Sister Dolly Fernandez, who now lived in Atlanta. With no male members of her family with her, she asked if I could possibly assist in the sealing of her father to her father’s parents. I was of course honored.
As I knelt at the end of the altar for this sacred ordinance, I heard once again the name that was now inscribed in my mind, her father, Eleazer Cercy. I fully believe that following this life, I will meet and embrace a man known in his mortal life as Eleazer Cercy.

At Young Women camp in the mountains of California, girls and leaders waited for dinner in an A-frame lodge. As we waited, some girls noticed something under a table. A hummingbird had somehow flown into the lodge, couldn’t find its way out, and finally collapsed on the floor. They asked me to help.
The bird looked near death, its beak wrapped with cobwebs and its feathers askew. I gently put it into a cup and carried it outside. I hoped it would recover on its own but realistically expected it to go the way of all nature. However, as I tipped the cup to gently deposit the hummingbird onto the ground, in mid-slide the hummingbird grasped the rim of the cup with its tiny talons. I held the cup upright, the bird perched on the rim, its eyes closed. Now what?
One leader, seeing the bird, mixed a solution of sugar and water and brought it to me. First I gently brushed the cobwebs from the needle-sharp beak. The bird didn’t flinch. Then I dipped a finger in the sugar water and held a drop to the tip of the beak. The drop disappeared, even though the bird didn’t move. Perhaps the liquid seeped into the beak? I dipped my finger again and held it to the bird’s beak. This time a tiny tongue, thinner than a hair, licked my fingertip.
For 10 or 15 minutes, the hummingbird drank one drop after another. By then, several other leaders had gathered around me, and I offered them a try at feeding it.
Suddenly the bird opened its eyes, and its ruffled feathers fell instantly into place. After drinking a couple more drops, it started its wings, warmed them for a second, and flew straight up. It hesitated a moment above us, and then shot away.
We stood there, stunned. And then, as suddenly as the bird had flown away, the spiritual lessons came:
Often, as we reach out to the less active, our efforts don’t seem to make a difference. But the love we offer does slip into the cracks—like the nectar into the unmoving beak of the hummingbird—providing spiritual nutrition that one day may produce results.
At times we can’t go further on our own; we need a kind, caring hand up.
Sometimes people get tangled in the cobwebs of sin or addiction and need the help of a friend or priesthood leader and the Savior’s assistance to get free.
We need regular spiritual nutrition in order to endure, else we run out of spiritual strength and fall victim to evil influences.
The hummingbird kept hanging on. Literally. Hanging on made all the difference. At times, we must simply endure in faith as we deal with the painful and sometimes horrible challenges of life.
The New Testament says that the Master is aware of even the sparrow’s fall (see Matthew 10:29–31). I now know He is also aware of a hummingbird’s fall. And He is aware of you.

About two years ago the counselor in the stake presidency of the Sunset Heights Stake came to visit me one evening. We had just moved to a small house while our other home was being built, to be completed in March. It was just after Christmas. My daughter had announced that she had accepted a proposal and wished to marry in March. Some of you know well that getting a wedding ready for a bride is no small task. I still needed to prepare a national conference presentation for the last of March and had my regular heavy load as a faculty member for winter semester. The counselor wanted me to serve as the director of a stake dance festival for the youth focused on the Israeli culture. You guessed it—it was at the end of March. I knew a number of Israeli dances that would fit the occasion and felt I could do this calling because of my background, but now was not the time. I had too much to do!

He told me to think about it. I did for about two minutes, then said, “I’ll do my best. I have had too many blessings from to the Lord to shortchange him now.” I have never had any calling in the Church that went so smoothly. Leaders were called from all of the wards to help me teach the dances to the youth, others helped with the facilities and equipment, parents and ward members helped with costumes, and the dance festival came off wonderfully. I learned a very important lesson again: the Lord does want us to serve where we are chosen, and he will help those who serve him if they are willing and faithful. I still have young people and leaders mention their fond memories of the festival. I even now draw from this experience to keep my own spiritual well full.

Sister Nichole Franklyn, Relief Society president in the Kingstown Branch, recalls, “We started a kitchen garden. We were happy, but it took a lot of work. We prayed each night over the crops, and Heavenly Father heard our prayers and blessed them.” Their simple garden has grown and is producing.
Not all the produce in their garden is ready to harvest, but they are reaping cucumbers and sweet peppers. They were worried that the ash fall would ruin their garden as it has much of the agriculture on the island. “Many crops have been completely wiped out, but God has spared ours. We were able to reap cucumbers. Right now, we can sell our cucumbers for five dollars per pound, but we opted to share with three shelters,” Sister Franklyn said.
Sister Franklyn is grateful for the blessings that her garden has brought to her family and to those in the shelters. “The Lord watches out for His children and provides when we are able to follow His teachings through our leaders,” she said. “It really feels good to give rather than to receive at this time.”

When he was just a little boy, Harold B. Lee started to climb over a fence to explore some old buildings in a neighbor’s yard. He heard a voice saying, “Harold, don’t go over there.” Looking around, he could see no one, and he realized that the Spirit was warning him of danger, so he didn’t go. He never learned what the danger might have been, but he always testified that the experience had taught him that the Lord knew who he was and was watching over him.

With canteen in hand, I was prepared for my second 50-mile hike and campout in the Uinta Mountains. I was about as well prepared as a 14-year-old could be. My equipment was all set to go, my boots were sturdy, and my pack was full of all the essentials.
The day of the hike arrived, and our leaders reminded our group of young men that the mountains could be very dangerous. Hikers and campers were often lost in the rugged hills and on the numerous trails. We were warned not to wander away from the path. Our leaders—my father included—all seemed concerned for our safety and were anxious to keep us from straying off of our chosen path.
Being one of the stronger hikers and a leader in the group, I soon found myself and three other boys leading the way. Sometimes we waited for our group at the forks in the trail to make sure we followed the correct path and would not become lost.
We hiked for hours, laughing and joking all the way. We were having a great time. Suddenly, we heard frantic calls and the sounds of running. We knew something must have gone wrong. We wondered if maybe some of the group had become lost. I was concerned for the friends I’d left behind with the leaders. Something bad must have happened.
We stopped to listen so we could hear what the distant voices were yelling. We heard our names. More specifically, I heard my name being called. I recognized my father’s voice. We called back and heard their heavy footsteps coming in our direction.
Something bad had happened. We learned that four of the boys in our group had strayed from the correct path and had become lost. It was us. We were the ones who were lost. My father was thankful to have finally found us, and together we began the hike back to the correct trail.
In my head, I retraced my footsteps. I couldn’t figure out how I’d become lost. I felt like I was still on the original path. I’d been so sure! We retraced our steps and my father showed us a turn we had missed. It was just a small path with a little hidden sign marking the correct way. We had hiked two miles off the right trail! We were thankful we’d been found before dark. For the rest of the hike, we stayed close to our leaders and the rest of the group and were never in danger again.

A few weeks later, Mom sent me a newspaper clipping about Todd. “Local Man Saves Child on Woolly Caterpillar Fun Ride” was the headline. Now what had he done?

According to the article, a child had fallen from the last seat of the ride and gotten his hand stuck in the rail. Todd heard him screaming and ran to the ride. He stopped it and stood under the dangling boy, hoisting him up. He held him until the paramedics could free the boy’s injured hand. Todd had stood with his head poking through the rails, a dangerous spot if the ride should somehow start again. There was a picture of the boy’s mother kissing Todd’s cheek and a smiling Todd with his hands on the shoulders of a beaming boy who held up a bandaged hand. The article said the mayor had plans to honor Todd as “The Hardworking Hero of Fun King.” Hardworking hero? This certainly wasn’t the Todd I knew.

In April, the branch started a Young Women program. At first there was only one participant: me! Even when I didn’t go, the teacher would wait for me. That seemed strange, too. Why was she so patient? Why did she wait so long even when she wasn’t sure I’d show up?
About that time, the mission presidents changed and the Suzuki family came to Sapporo. There was a young lady in the family, Naomi, who was my age. We quickly became friends, since we were the only young women our age in the branch. She set a good example for me, and with her as a guide, I began to understand the patience of our teacher and the beauty of the gospel. Naomi’s example helped keep me going to church weekly and praying diligently. I was able to gain a small testimony and wanted from the bottom of my heart to be baptized.

The first things I noticed among the hustling paramedics and the wailing sirens that cold January morning in Utah were Esther’s hands. Her long, strong fingers, which had always been so busy serving others, were now cramped and motionless. My own hands reached out to warm hers, and her closed eyes fluttered open briefly. She looked around as though to identify who was near her.
“It’s okay, Esther,” I said, trying to comfort her as I straightened her nightgown and covered her with a blanket. “The doctors will find out what has happened to you.” I felt Esther relax; then we were both swept into the ambulance and rushed to the nearby hospital.
To say Esther was only a neighbor is like describing the sun as only a source of light. Esther’s hands had reached out to me when I was a teenager and had led me to the treasures in my junior high school library. For more than 40 years, her hands had dispensed knowledge and service throughout the neighborhood. She had hired and patiently taught many young people how to prune and care for her orchards, how to improve the neighborhood, and how to love their neighbors. She had reached out to old and new alike, and her hands had sewn the fabric of our block into a quilt of friendship that spread far beyond its physical boundaries.
All that busy winter, I had yearned to help someone. But I knew it was a futile desire. I was working full time in a very stressful job, and I was the harried mother of five very involved and very busy children, ages 5 to 25, including two who were getting married within weeks of each other. My family, work, Church and community responsibilities had strained my capacity to do more than survive each day. But something in the depths of my being kept calling out, wanting to help someone in some way.
Many mornings, as I checked off my accomplishments of the previous day and plotted my strategy for meeting the struggles of the dawning one, I had recalled the Lord’s admonition to “not run faster or labor more than you have strength,” (see D&C 10:4), and I had thought, “Maybe tomorrow I’ll find time to take dinner to someone or to take flowers to a sick friend.”
Service, to me, was a physical object one presented as a gift: it was homemade candy or doughnuts at Christmas, freshly baked bread for a new neighbor, or outgrown clothes for needy families. Now, as I sat at Esther’s bedside on a cold wintry day, Esther taught me that service was something else.
“Esther, squeeze my hand,” the doctor coaxed. “Come on, Esther, you can squeeze my hand.”
“I’m trying,” Esther answered, but her words collapsed into themselves, and her voice trailed off. The doctor shook his head, slipping his hand from Esther’s unmoving one.
“Esther, they are going to move you to another room now,” I explained as they wheeled her bed out of the emergency room. “It’s going to be all right.” Her frightened eyes searched mine for reassurance and then closed in peace.
Surprisingly, despite my fear for Esther, I felt an unusual sense of peace. For once in my harried, over-full life, I knew that I was where I was supposed to be. I wasn’t worried about my list of Saturday chores. I wasn’t concerned about my family. They knew I was with Esther, and their prayers were with me in that cramped, bare cubicle.
Morning edged into afternoon. I called Esther’s family in another state and told them of the situation. I served as a link between the hospital, Esther, and her family members, who were trying to cope with this emergency. And I talked to Esther.
As I sat by Esther, I watched storm clouds gather and snow begin to fall. My thoughts went back 35 years to when my grandmother had had her final stroke. Others had been frightened of the silent stranger who inhabited my grandmother’s frail body, but my mother had told us to hold her hand, to stroke it, and to talk to her.
“I think she can hear you, even if she can’t communicate,” my mother had said. “She needs to hear and feel your love. Talk to her, touch her, and let her know you love her.”
I hadn’t thought of my mother’s words for many years, but they came back as I talked to Esther, stroked her immobile hands, and filled the tiny room with my whispered prayers.
Too soon the room was crowded with Esther’s family, and I eased out of their way as they gathered around her. When they reached out to caress her still hands, stroke her hair, and talk to her, the urgent need that had held me captive all morning disappeared.
“She’s slipped into a deep coma,” the nurse explained to Esther’s loved ones. “Earlier she was trying to communicate, but now she’s unconscious and unaware.”
I stood at the doorway and took one last look at Esther’s inert hands. They were more relaxed now, but they remained open and reaching out to others. I dashed tears of appreciation from my eyes and thanked Esther for her last gift to me.

My next story is about a woman I will call Mary. She was the daughter of faithful pioneer parents who had sacrificed much for the gospel. She had been married in the temple and was the mother of 10 children. She was a talented woman who taught her children how to pray, to work hard, and to love each other. She paid her tithing, and the family rode to church together on Sunday in their wagon.
Though she knew it was contrary to the Word of Wisdom, she developed the habit of drinking coffee and kept a coffee pot on the back of her stove. She claimed that “the Lord will not keep me out of heaven for a little cup of coffee.” But, because of that little cup of coffee, she could not qualify for a temple recommend, and neither could those of her children who drank coffee with her. Though she lived to a good old age and did eventually qualify to reenter and serve in the temple, only one of her 10 children had a worthy temple marriage, and a great number of her posterity, which is now in its fifth generation, live outside of the blessings of the restored gospel she believed in and her forefathers sacrificed so much for.

A few years ago I attended a summer swim camp at Brigham Young University in Provo. Growing up in Tennessee, I didn’t have many LDS friends. I was so excited to fly west to meet other kids who shared my faith and passion for swimming. Little did I know that my decision to go to this camp would change my life.
Everyone attending the camp was given a dorm room and a roommate. My roommate, Sam, was on the water polo and swim teams at his high school in Southern California. He also just happened to be one of the coolest guys I’ve ever met. Within five minutes of talking, I felt like we were best friends.
Sam talked to everyone. He radiated confidence and people were drawn to him. He made more friends in a few hours than I had made in my entire life!
That night, Sam and I were in our dorm room getting ready for bed. I was about to turn the lights off when Sam quietly knelt down beside his bed and offered a silent prayer. I was blown away! How could someone so popular and so good at sports be humble enough to get on his knees and pray at night? I turned the lights off and lay in bed thinking about what I had just witnessed.
The next day, I saw my friend in a whole new light. I wondered why he continued to kneel and pray at night when his parents weren’t there to make him. I started to have my own personal prayers. At first, I just prayed while lying in bed. Then I built up the courage to pray kneeling. I would turn the lights off, kneel, pray, and jump into bed in one fluid motion.
As I started to gain confidence in myself, my prayers grew longer and more sincere. My spiritual strength increased with every prayer. I realized what Sam had was spiritual strength. He radiated that strength with love toward other people.
By his example, Sam inspired me to pursue water polo, and I later had the wonderful opportunity to play for the University of Tennessee. But more importantly, through his simple example of praying each night, he inspired me to continually strengthen myself spiritually through prayer. (See Alma 37:6–7.)
Serving as a missionary in the Idaho Pocatello Mission, I pray more than ever before. Every time I kneel in prayer I remember my friend Sam, who taught me by example to “set my face unto the Lord God, to seek by prayer” His strength and comfort (Daniel 9:3). This is one way that I can achieve the divine potential that God sees in me.

While I was a boy working in the fields with my mother, she taught me one of the most important lessons in life. It was late in the morning, the sun was up, and we had been hoeing for what I thought to be a very long time. I stopped to look back at what we had accomplished and said to my mother, “Look at all we have done!” Mother did not respond. Thinking that she had not heard me, I repeated what I had said a little louder. She still did not reply. Raising my voice a little higher, I repeated again. Finally, she turned to me and said, “Edward, never look back. Look ahead at what we still have to do.”