Gospel Story Finder

Each worshipper at the conference could extract their own personally satisfying and needed messages from the talks, but I got mine in three words that took me back to a previous time. A young man whose beginnings in the Church had not been auspicious or helpful and who said he knew nothing about the gospel had been sent to me for help in learning about it. I asked him how he would like to go about learning or where he would like to start. He said that he didn’t know enough to know, so how about starting with the alphabet. I said, “Okay, we’ll start with the A’s.” And in the conference this time, those three A’s that I talked to him about came immediately to the fore: atonement, agency, and accountability.

Cari shares this experience:
“I have always known what was right, but I thought I could choose my own path. After being on that path, I started to feel lost and confused. Finally I prayed with a humble heart and asked Heavenly Father what I should do. The first step was to change friends. That wasn’t easy, being in the “popular” group. But I took the challenge and did just that.
“We liked to hang out on the weekend and watch R-rated movies. I had made up my mind never to watch R movies again. It was the beginning of a new school year, and a guy asked me to watch a movie. I told him that I didn’t watch rated R movies. He said, “That’s cool, we can watch a different one.” This has happened more than once. I have left parties, sat home on weekends, and turned down [dates] because I don’t watch R-rated movies. This has been the greatest blessing in my life. Now it’s easier for me to stand up for what I believe in many other ways.”

My beloved brothers and sisters, for several years and with the deepest feelings I have thought about what I would like to talk to you about this morning. The prophet Mormon tells us that “by the power of [the Lord’s] word did they cause prisons to tumble” (Morm. 8:24). In recent weeks, I have reread the stories of Jean Valjean in Victor Hugo’s brilliant novel Les Miserables and of Bob Merrick in the novel Magnificent Obsession by Lloyd C. Douglas. These two stories, though widely different in time, circumstances, and affluence, have touched my heart in many ways.
I have agonized as I have thought about the ordeal of Jean Valjean—the nineteen years in prison and the things done to him for the small transgression of stealing a loaf of bread to feed a starving family. He suffered so many indignities, even after he was finally released from the physical prison.
Some of the same feelings flood my mind as I reflect upon the self-inflicted sufferings of Bob Merrick. The life of a prominent surgeon was lost and the sight of another because of Bob Merrick’s wayward activities, selfishness, ego, and disdain for others. He suffered in a prison of his own making.
Yes, I realize these masterfully crafted episodes are fictional, but they cause me to think about the various types of prisons Satan leads us into building for ourselves and others, or that others build for us.
Haven’t we all been delivered from various forms of captivity? How did you feel when the doors were opened to your personal prison? How was it to feel free? How wonderful it is to be liberated from any kind of a prison.
I remember how I felt forty-one years ago when I was taken from a train in Europe at 2:00 a.m. by two soldiers of a hostile nation and held against my will. I was verbally and physically abused. I felt I would never see my family or my country again. I assure you that while I was held captive, the blood coursed through my veins like adrenaline. Though the captivity lasted less than a day, it seemed like an eternity. And when I was put on another train and sent back to safety, my gratitude to the Lord knew no bounds. I was free! As I talked to the train conductor, I learned that hundreds had not been so lucky.
I then was led to think of Him who really delivers us from various types of prisons into forgiveness, a newness of life, of spirit, of change, and of opportunity, and how the souls of men find such relief, fulfillment, and safety when this occurs. I thought of the Son of God and His greatest freewill offering to each of us, given at the expense of His own life and under excruciating pain. I thought of how our Father in Heaven loves each one of us. And though we sometimes walk into prisons of our own making, He is there with keys to unlock the doors that bind us. I thought of those who help along the way, who share in turning those keys which deliver others, and who care so deeply sometimes that they rebuild the trust of others—like the two men of God in the novels helped to free Jean Valjean and Bob Merrick from their prisons into magnificent new freedoms promised by the Lord.
As difficult as a physical captivity or prison is, there are other captivities or prisons even more devastating. They are very subtle and take various forms in life, like (1) taking advantage of another; (2) bearing false witness to get gain; (3) knowing things to be true and not defending them; (4) stealing the morality of another; (5) destroying the innocence of a little child; (6) being captive to alcohol or drugs; or (7) financially digging a pit for another, causing hardship and destroying his ability to take care of his needs and so on. There are many prisons which come from our sins or the sins of others “according to the captivity and power of the devil” (2 Ne. 2:27), who leads us away.
Let me take an example to illustrate the point of these prisons. The prophet Job counseled us not to “dig a pit for your friend” (Job 6:27). I understand that could mean a business associate, a neighbor, a member of the Church. How could this happen?
Several years ago, a great young man had a thriving business. He had worked long, hard hours for many years to develop the skills, reputation, and expertise necessary to build his business and provide for the needs of his young family. He loved his work, and every morning he anxiously began each new project with creativity and opportunity. His was a great life, filled with much hope and many projects. Then one major project was completed and finalized. Rather large payments were anticipated, but a shrewd businessman found that oral approvals, given to my friend to make many necessary alterations in the project, could easily be broken and not honored. After all, there was no written record of the changes requested. It was just “good business” to get it as cheap as possible, even after commitments were made. And so verbal commitments were not honored. The money due, which was considerable, was not paid.
At this point we have several prisons that are in place: the prison of deceit of the “shrewd” businessman, and the prison of the deceived, who could not now honor his own commitments. To this day the one deceived, through further industry and much hardship, is still trying to get out of the prison created by another. And he has lost confidence in others, and he and his family have lost opportunities and his business because of another.
Did not the Savior teach through the prophet Moses, “If a man shall cause a field or vineyard to be eaten, and shall put in his beast, and shall feed in another man’s field; of the best of his own field, and of the best of his own vineyard, shall he make restitution”? (Ex. 22:5).
These types of prisons often cause the offended to lose faith, hope, and even the ability to care for their own, as was the case with my young friend. But these prisons should not happen. They often cause years of anguish. They cause those involved to wonder about justice and mercy. Sometimes these people find it impossible to resolve their own personal affairs honorably.
The lessons taught by the Savior differ widely from these actions. For He taught, in effect, Do unto others as ye would have them do unto you (see Matt. 7:12; 3 Ne. 14:12). He taught, “Behold it is my will that you shall pay all your debts” (D&C 104:78). Yes, even if it takes years, pay your debts.
No Christian should ever be a challenge to another Christian. Many widows, single mothers, and older couples are victimized by those who take advantage of them, who do not honor their commitments and then put them into a type of prison. Those affected find themselves pleading for someone to open their prison doors, often while babies cry for bare necessities.
When we seek to follow Christ, we take the oath of a Christian as a member of this Church; we covenant to never put another in any sort of prison, but rather to try to liberate those who are there. We become like one man who said that when he joined this Church it changed the way he thought, the way he talked, the way he believed, the way he dressed, the way he worked and honored his employer, the things he read, the movies he saw, the way he conducted his financial affairs in absolute honesty with everyone, and the way he served others. He truly believed in the liberating power of the gospel of Jesus Christ and became free because of it. As is stated in the book of John, “If the Son therefore shall make you free, ye shall be free indeed” (John 8:36).
Years ago an acquaintance of mine was captive for over twenty years to a serious alcohol problem, which bound him every day. He would leave work, buy his alcohol, drive into the countryside, and drink until he could barely find his way home. He truly was under the captive spirit of the devil and lived in hell. A faithful home teacher loved this brother, saw him often, taught him to pray for help, and prayed for him often. One day while he was driving his pickup truck into the countryside to begin his daily alcohol ritual, he felt a powerful influence to stop his truck, walk out into a field, fall to his knees, and plead for help from his Father in Heaven. Later, he tearfully testified that as he arose from his knees, the desire to drink alcohol had completely left him. He had been delivered from a twenty-year prison. God heard his prayer, felt the desire of his heart, and opened the prison doors that bound him.
Beloved friends, it is Jesus who has unlocked and will unlock the doors of our personal prisons. It is a glorious promise to all who are captive, for whatever reasons, upon the condition of repentance.
Certainly, a Latter-day Saint will demonstrate the freedom he has received by walking in all morality and all honesty, as taught by the Lord. For his word is his bond—sacred and honored. His life becomes the testament that it is all true—every principle and every word that proceeds from the mouth of the Savior and His prophets. By living these cardinal principles, we are truly free and we become the witnesses of His word.
One of the beautiful, profound statements of the man of God to Jean Valjean was: “My brother, you belong no more to evil, but to good. It is your soul I am buying for you, and I give it to God” (Victor Hugo, Les Miserables, volume 1, book 2, chapter 12). No more prisons for others, if you will, because of my actions.
Jesus came that man might have life and have it more abundantly. He walked the path, taught the way, opened the doors to truly liberate mankind, and said, “And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free” (John 8:32). The writer, Mr. Douglas, expressed it beautifully when he said to Bob Merrick, “When you find THE WAY, you will be bound—it will become an obsession—a magnificent obsession.”
We know it works, for listen to the words which record what happened to the Saints who truly followed the Savior for two hundred years following His appearance in America:
“And as many as did come unto them, and did truly repent of their sins, were baptized in the name of Jesus; and they did also receive the Holy Ghost.
“… And there were no contentions and disputations among them, and every man did deal justly one with another.
“And they had all things common among them; therefore there were not rich and poor, bond and free, but they were all made free. …
“And surely there could not be a happier people among all the people who had been created by the hand of God” (4 Ne. 1:1–3, 16; emphasis added).
Yes, “by the power of his word did they cause prisons to tumble” (Morm. 8:24). May we live our lives so we will all be free with no prisons for ourselves or others, only a magnificent obsession filled with freedoms and blessings ahead, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

For example, one prospective elder refused to come to church because he smoked. “I didn’t feel the Church was that important,” he says. But he and his wife decided to let their home teachers come by every week to teach them. There was no mention of smoking until the husband himself brought up the subject several weeks later. After three months they attended the temple preparation seminar, and now they attend church every week. He still struggles with his smoking, but he’s accepted a call to be a home teacher. He now understands that “the Church is ‘for the perfecting of the Saints’ (Eph. 4:12)” and “not a well-provisioned rest home for the already perfected.” (Elder Neal A. Maxwell, General Conference, April, 1982.)

In Puerto Francisco de Orellana, an isolated village in the jungles of Ecuador, members have a strong bond of love and faith. The monthly branch council reflects their caring. They focus on individuals and families first, then how programs can help. Inspiration follows.
Many members need help finding work. The branch council finds that the members’ challenges can often be solved at the local level. As the council discussed the needs of a single mother with a young daughter who has health problems, the Relief Society president knew of a job where the mother could work and still be near her daughter.
The branch council also draws on Church resources, such as the LDS Employment Services career workshop materials.2 They established a class taught by a branch member, which helped another branch member find a better job.
Ramiro Reyes, first counselor in the branch presidency, says of the branch council: “We are instruments in the hand of the Lord. He will achieve His goals through our works.”

Ellen sniffed the moist sea air as she leaned over the bow of the great sailing vessel. The Hudson had sailed away from the coast of England just weeks before. Ellen had cried that day as she waved farewell to some of her friends and family in the cheering crowd. But they were tears of joy. Finally, after years of working and praying, her family’s prayers had been answered. They were going to the land of their dreams—America, the land of Zion!
Ellen enjoyed the sea. During the few times she was able to slip away from taking care of her younger brothers and sisters, Ellen liked to lean over the bow of the ship and let her hair blow wild while she searched for dolphins and other sea creatures.
Ellen’s heart sank as she heard a voice behind her. “Ellen! You must come. It’s time for breakfast prayers.”
“Coming,” Ellen grumbled. Stepping back from the ship’s railing, she tried her best to straighten her hair. “More prayers,” Ellen thought as she hurried toward the hatch that led to the lower part of the ship where her family and all of the Saints ate and slept. Prayers in the morning, prayers at night, prayers by herself, prayers over meals, prayers with the Saints, and prayers with her family. Ellen bit her lip. She didn’t want to be ungrateful for the miracle of sailing to America. But was there such a thing as too many prayers?
As Ellen approached her family, who were already kneeling, she wondered if her mother could tell what she was thinking. Ellen knelt down and looked at her mother’s tired face. Life on the ship had not been easy for her mother. She, and many of the other passengers, had experienced terrible seasickness during the recent storm that had rocked the ship for days.
Guiltily, Ellen bowed her head when the leader of their company asked her father to bless the food. She thought of her mother as he asked for a special blessing upon those who were sick. Then he thanked the Lord for the food and asked Him to protect the Saints that day.
After breakfast, Ellen was assigned to care for her younger sisters on the deck. She took them to a place that was out of the way so they could watch the sailors rushing around shouting orders at each other. Ellen noticed the captain near the bow of the ship. He was searching the horizon with his looking glass. She wondered what it would be like to be the captain of a great ship. Suddenly, the captain’s face grew pale, and he began to pace back and forth, stopping every few steps to look through his telescope.
“What could have upset the captain so much?” Ellen wondered. “Let’s go look at the ocean,” she whispered to her sisters, taking their hands in hers. At the bow of the ship, Ellen shaded her eyes and scanned the ocean. At first, all she could see was a small black dot on the horizon. But soon she saw what had made the captain’s face grow so pale.
A large ship was sailing straight toward them at a fast clip. “Pirates!” whispered a man beside her. She could hear the fear in his voice. Panic ensued as parents began calling to each other to find family members and to take the children below. Ellen stood frozen, watching the men scramble around in search of anything that could be used as a weapon.
“Get those children away from the bow,” yelled a crew member.
Ellen shook herself out of her frozen state and led her sisters down the hatch, but as soon as the children were with her mother, she rushed back up to the deck. She was worried about her father. He’d never fought anyone in his life, let alone pirates. She wondered what she could do to help.
The passengers on the Hudson grew silent as the pirate ship sailed closer. Ellen stood next to her father and gasped as the ship came so close she could see the color of the pirates’ hair! She looked up at her father and saw his lips moving in a silent prayer. Feeling frightened, she began her own silent prayer, asking Heavenly Father to forgive her for her bad attitude that morning.
The two ships sailed side by side for what seemed like an hour. The pirates and the passengers on the Hudson gazed at each other in silence.
“What are they doing?” Ellen whispered to her father.
“They’re probably wondering if our ship is worth robbing,” her father whispered.
They waited in silence until suddenly there was a shout from the pirate ship. Ellen could feel her father’s body tense. Then, to Ellen’s surprise, the pirate ship slowly turned around and began sailing away from the Hudson.
Ellen let out the breath she had been holding. Silently, she offered up a prayer of thanks, remembering her father’s prayer for safety that morning.
“The Lord was surely watching over us this day,” her father said, laying a hand on Ellen’s shoulder and watching the pirate ship sail away.
“He surely was,” Ellen thought, and then she smiled, realizing she now knew that there was no such thing as too many prayers.

I remember a day when I was serving as Young Women President when sharing some loaves of bread carried me through some struggles. After first getting on my knees and praying fervently for answers and strength to deal with my problems, I felt impressed to rise to my feet and make a dozen little loaves of whole wheat bread to take with me to the office. Each time I gave one away, the recipient opened his or her heart and shared some tender feelings. A secretary said, “How did you know it was my birthday; no one else has remembered me.” A much admired general authority lamented, “Some days I wish I had at least one thing like making bread, that I could do well.” The parents of an open-heart surgery patient confided, “Let us share with you the priesthood miracles involved with this surgery for our daughter.” An executive director said, “I will give this to my wife who is sitting each day in the hospital with our daughter who has leukemia.” Another leader reminisced, “This brings my mother back to me, because she too made bread.” These little experiences leavened my day with the spirit and carried me through that day. My burdens had been lifted. I felt happy.

A 19-year-old unwed mother, whom we’ll call Charlotte, recently placed her baby girl for adoption through LDS Family Services. She shared her difficult experience with the New Era. Charlotte realizes that her violation of the law of chastity has complicated her life. But she has taken the necessary steps to receive, through the Atonement of Jesus Christ, forgiveness and healing of spirit. This article focuses on her adoption decision, not on the process of her repentance.
I can still remember the day I found out I was pregnant. I was filled with dread and shock and fear. When I told my boyfriend the test was positive, we both sat in silence for a long time.
He finally hugged me, but I was too shocked to cry. I remember saying, “So what’s next? Should we get married?”
He was just as shocked as I was. He asked me if there were any other options besides marriage. I was upset by that because I assumed he was referring to abortion, which was out of the question.
A few days after I found out I was pregnant, I decided to tell my mom. It was a Sunday night, and we were lying down in the family room, tired after a long weekend of moving. Suddenly I said, “Mom, I need to tell you something.”
She asked, “What?”
I hesitated, then said, “I’m pregnant.”
She didn’t cry at first, but after we started talking, she started to cry but stayed calm enough for us to talk. I had been afraid she would be upset, but she was loving and supportive.
My mom later told my dad, and he came into my room and hugged me and offered his love and support. Just weeks before I found out I was pregnant, he had given me a birthday card in which he wrote that he was proud of me. I remember reading that card and being sad at the thought of disappointing him.
As the days passed, Charlotte started thinking of her options: to get married, to be a single parent, or to place her baby for adoption. She determined that a successful marriage was not possible for her, so she followed her doctor’s advice to go to LDS Family Services to discuss her options. Charlotte started seeing a counselor there named Kathy (name has been changed).
For a couple of weeks, Kathy and I talked about single parenting. She gave me a lot of articles and worksheets that dealt with the emotional, physical, and financial aspects of raising a child. I knew my parents would help support my baby and me, but it was scary to think, “What if I had to do it on my own?”
We discussed the pros and cons of single parenting. “Where would I live?” “Would the baby be a source of contention between me and my parents?” “Would I work full time?” “What about child care?” and so on.
We discussed how I might have to live with my parents and how girls struggle with that. Young mothers worry about their mothers taking over and being the mother of the child, and that can cause a lot of contention between the two. I also wondered if I would be able to go to college if I were a single mom. I would probably have to work full time, which wouldn’t make it easy to go to school.
Kathy asked me what appealed to me about single parenting. As I thought about it, all my reasons for choosing to be a single parent were selfish. They all boiled down to the fact that I’d have my baby with me. The problem with that is, I knew she wasn’t just mine. My baby was Heavenly Father’s child.
In my next couple of appointments with Kathy, we talked about adoption and how that process works. Finally, after weeks of meeting with Kathy, I felt that I had a good idea of what was involved with adoption and with single parenting.
Being a single parent would be hard, as would placing my baby for adoption. So I prayed about this decision continually. I put off deciding to place my baby for adoption because it was a difficult decision I didn’t want to make right away.
I came to the decision to place my baby for adoption after months of soul searching, deep thought, and lots of prayer. It took me a long time to feel like I had an answer. Even when I knew I had an answer, I sometimes wanted to not follow it. But I knew it was what I needed to do.
One night I was looking at one of my favorite pictures of the Savior. It shows Him with a little boy sitting on His knee looking up at Him. As I looked at that picture I could imagine my own child sitting up in heaven on the Lord’s knee. I realized that my baby would be coming to me straight from God’s arms. I began to realize the worth of the soul I was carrying. It was easy at that moment for me to forget my own cares and concerns and see the bigger picture. I knew I needed to place my baby for adoption, so I began to pray for the strength to be able to do it.
At my next meeting with Kathy, I told her my decision.
After deciding on adoption, Charlotte met with her bishop.
I put off talking to my bishop for a long time because I felt like I needed to know what I was doing and, as silly as this sounds, I felt like I wasn’t worthy to talk to him. It would have been better if I had talked with him months earlier, but my emotions were in turmoil. I was embarrassed about breaking the law of chastity, angry at myself and my boyfriend for the mistake we had made, and resentful about being pregnant. I was confused and just didn’t feel ready to talk with my bishop.
But then, a few months before I was due, my bishop called me in to see him. I took the opportunity to confess, and he heard me with compassion. He also helped confirm that adoption was right for me and my baby. Immediately after talking to him, I asked myself, “Why didn’t I do that earlier?!” Had I talked to him earlier, he would’ve been such a help to me throughout my decision-making and repentance process. Instead, I was punishing myself and holding myself back from receiving revelation through him.
Having decided to place her baby for adoption, Charlotte started looking at profiles of adoptive parents. Adoptive parents give LDS Family Services a collage of family pictures, a letter to the birth parents, and an information sheet about themselves.
After four or five weeks of looking at profiles, I narrowed them down to two families I was considering and praying about. One family seemed fun, an adorable family. But when I read the other family’s letter, I felt the Spirit so strongly. I felt like I knew the adoptive parents before I met them.
I had been praying to know which family to choose. It was hard to get an answer to my prayers. I felt as though the Lord wasn’t going to give me a really strong answer because He wanted me to make the decision. So I did, and I knew it was right because of that spirit I felt when I read the family’s letter.
About a month before I gave birth, I wrote the family a letter saying I had chosen them and wanted them to pray about being the parents of my baby. I got an answer from them in three days. I guess they didn’t need to pray about it as long as I did! They said they knew the decision was right the moment they read my letter.
We met each other a few weeks before I gave birth, and we bonded immediately. At LDS Family Services, my parents and I met the adoptive parents and their six-year-old daughter. We visited for about two hours, talking and getting to know each other. The day after we met each other, they wrote me a letter saying how good they felt about everything. They said it was an answer to their prayers.
After I gave birth to my baby girl, I had a couple days with her to myself. The night before the placement was hard. I was holding the baby, thinking, “How am I going to do this? Will I be able to do this?” I was praying for strength.
The next step was placement, the meeting at LDS Family Services when the birth mother gives the baby to the adoptive parents. Charlotte’s parents and sister came with her, and the adoptive couple’s parents were there too.
The first one to hold my baby was the adoptive family’s six-year-old daughter. I wanted my baby to have a sister, so I thought it was important that she hold her baby sister first. Our families then spent an hour talking, getting acquainted, and taking pictures.
At the end of our visit, I held my baby for the last time and then gave her to her adoptive mom. I felt a sense of relief and knew that I was doing the right thing. I saw love and joy on the parents’ faces. It was great for them to get their baby, but I could see pain in their eyes for me. I knew they could feel my sacrifice. I’ll never forget the look in their eyes as I gave them a hug and left. They were so grateful.
I didn’t really feel sad—until that night, when the shock had passed. That night was the hardest part of the process for me. My thoughts were racing, and I was very emotional. I was wondering if my daughter was eating regularly. In the hospital she didn’t have an appetite. I wondered if she was crying or if she was content.
The next day, Kathy came to my house with a letter and a packet of pictures from the adoptive family. The letter answered all the questions that had been racing through my mind the night before. I felt better immediately.
Six months after Charlotte placed her baby for adoption, she says:
It has been a gradual healing process for me, both spiritually and emotionally. Every week seems to get better. I feel more confidence in my relationship with the Lord, and I’m still getting letters and pictures from the adoptive family. I have gone back to college full time and back to work part time.
Placing my baby for adoption was hard, but I felt it was right. I was guided by the Spirit. It’s amazing how it worked out so well.

Ifoni Tapueluelu was a little lonely. He was the only boy in a family of sisters. His sisters were growing up and developing other friends and interests. He needed a friend.
One day Ifoni, then about age 13, was swimming near the bridge on the beautiful island of Vava‘u, one of a group of northern islands in the nation of Tonga. Other children were swimming there too, and Ifoni noticed a boy—Peter—who was alone and looking just about as lonely as Ifoni felt. Ifoni saw Peter and thought, He doesn’t have a friend, but he needs one. And I need a friend. Soon they were inseparable—except when Ifoni went to church.
As Peter and Ifoni became closer, Ifoni naturally invited Peter to do everything he was doing—going to Mutual, participating in seminary, and attending Sunday meetings. At first Peter knew virtually nothing about the Church. But he had a good friend who was eager to teach him.
And Ifoni knew that Peter needed the same blessings in his life.
Peter liked going to Mutual activities, but he didn’t always want to go to church on Sundays. “Every Sunday Ifoni would stand outside the house and wait for me,” Peter says. “He didn’t give up.”
Then Peter’s testimony began to grow. Seminary was a great help. “One day the teacher explained about how to resist Satan and endure the trials that come every day,” Peter says. “Doctrine and Covenants 10:5 talks about praying hard so you can resist temptation. That scripture always stays in my mind.”
Now, as 17-year-olds, Ifoni and Peter are looking forward to serving missions. And they will be great missionaries. They see possibilities where others see difficulties. For example, more than half the 15,000 people in Vava‘u are Church members, Peter points out. Then he asks, “Don’t you think it is possible to help the other half join the Church?” Immediately, there seem to be obstacles to such a widespread conversion. But one look at the faces of Peter and Ifoni stops such doubts. They have faith. And with such faith, anything is possible.
And that is exactly what Ifoni did when he saw someone in need of a friend. His friendship changed the course of Peter’s life. And the result? Two friends, both stronger in the gospel than they would have been separately.

When I was a boy, 12 years of age, my father took me to a meeting of the priesthood of the stake in which we lived. At the opening of that meeting, the first of its kind I had ever attended, three or four hundred men stood and sang “Praise to the Man.”
Something happened within me as I heard those men of faith sing. There came into my boyish heart a knowledge, placed there by the Holy Spirit, that Joseph Smith was indeed a prophet of the Almighty. In the many years that have since passed, years in which I have read much of his words and works, that knowledge has grown stronger and ever more certain. Mine has been the privilege of bearing witness across this nation from sea to shining sea, and on continents north and south, east and west, that he was and is a prophet of God, a mighty servant and testifier of the Lord Jesus Christ.
That testimony I reaffirm to you this day and I leave my testimony in the name of Him of whom Joseph Smith was a witness and of whom I also am a witness, even the Lord, Jesus Christ (from Ensign, May 1977, 66).

But it is perhaps Phil who is busiest of all. Besides “splitting” with the full-time missionaries, serving as ward organist, assistant to the president of the priests quorum, and seminary class representative to the stake, he also organizes dances for Super Saturdays and studies seminary lessons. He organized his own dance band at school, with 15 singers and six musicians, and he plays in the school band. He helped organize a blood drive and is president of the school chorus. He has won the John Phillip Sousa Award, the National Choral Association and National Band Association awards, and the U.S. Marine Corps Award, all for musical excellence. But one of his biggest thrills was being elected student-body president.

“I ran because I wanted to help the school,” he said. “There was a problem with drugs, and I wanted to help people get out of that and give them something better.” As a result of his campaign, Gowanda Central High now has a class about drugs and alcoholism that not only educates students but refers those with problems to counselors and agencies who can help.

Michelle discovered that she was of infinite worth to another person. As a popular high-school student, she received a letter from a former neighbor, a girl she termed “unfortunate.” The girl asked for some tips on how to make boys like her. Part of Michelle’s reply was, “Just be yourself, and people—not just boys—will like you for what you are.” Later Michelle received a letter from “her new friend.” (Isn’t that interesting? When she helped this girl, Michelle found a new friend—not an unfortunate neighbor.)

Michelle said: “In her writing and words I could feel the excitement. From a few kind words, I seemed to change another person’s life. I guess I know I can do anything I put my mind to.”

Some years ago, a missionary and his companion were teaching a woman of the restored gospel. She was very interested and she read and prayed as the missionaries asked. However, she was uncertain about whether she should be baptized. She went to the minister of her protestant church and asked his opinion. He wrote her a response. It was 21 pages long. I examined the first few pages. I recall the minister warned this woman that the Mormons have a very strange belief. They believe that God speaks directly to man today and that revelation is available to every Mormon. He pointed out that even if you show a Mormon in the Bible where he is wrong, he will not believe the Bible if it conflicts with his revelations. He concluded with the warning that Mormons invite you to pray and listen to your feelings. But, he said, feelings can be misleading, and he recommended she should avoid prayer and avoid examining her feelings. He reminded her that there were no such things as visions and revelations in this day and all such things had ceased with the Apostles. This lady said at her baptism a few days later: "I knew the minister was wrong. He was wrong about revelation, because I prayed and God revealed to me the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon and the gospel taught by the missionaries."

For instance, Elder Mabey tells of traveling a great distance through a rain forest in Nigeria to find a particular congregation. They arrived on a Saturday just as people were leaving a little village church, attached to which was a sign that read, “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” Elder Mabey reported:

The pastor was very happy and excited to see us and ran out and rang the assembly bell. All the people came back and we held a meeting. The first thing this pastor did after [the meeting concluded], was to stand up with tears in his eyes and thank the Lord for answering their prayers. He said, “You know, today we were assembled here on Saturday because we were breaking a twenty-four hour fast, asking the Lord to send us missionaries. . . . We’ve listened to you for an hour and we all believe what you tell us is true and we want to be baptized!” [Rendell Mabey interview, p. 217]

In both Nigeria and Ghana the missionaries found hundreds who had testimonies of the Book of Mormon, the Prophet Joseph Smith, and the restoration of the gospel. All they needed was baptism. And so they were baptized! In one 24-hour period, 149 converts were baptized (see Mabey and Allred, Brother to Brother, p. 143). Within one year there were more than 1,700 members in 35 branches in West Africa (see Mabey and Allred, Brother to Brother, p. vii).

When I was 13 years old and growing up in Orem, Utah, USA, my great-uncle Ash called and said he had a summer job for me. I gladly took it, since it wasn’t easy for a 13-year-old to get a job. On my first day, Uncle Ash brought me to a lot he owned where a grocery store was being built. Construction workers had already dug a huge hole on the land where they would put the building’s foundation. At one end of the lot they had piled up a huge mountain of dirt they had excavated for the foundation. It was so big that the neighborhood kids had turned it into a bike-riding hill, complete with jumps and paths.
Uncle Ash was a kind, older man about the age of my grandfather. He and his wife had never had children of their own. When I met Uncle Ash at the lot, he handed me an old wooden-handled shovel and a scuffed-up black wheelbarrow and told me that my job was to move the mountain of dirt to the back end of the lot, about 75 yards (69 meters) away.
As I look back on the experience now, I am sure Uncle Ash could have moved the dirt much faster and more efficiently with a backhoe, but he offered to pay me $1.40 an hour, which was good pay back then—so I took the job and went to work.
I toiled away at that mountain of dirt for weeks, one wheelbarrow load at a time. I soon settled into a pattern: Every day, I got to the lot early in the morning, while it was still cool, filled the wheelbarrow one shovelful at a time, pushed it across the field and dumped it in the location Uncle Ash had pointed to, then returned to do it again. I pushed that wheelbarrow back and forth so many times I eventually wore a smooth path between the large mountain of dirt and the little mound I was creating.
I worked from four to six hours a day, every day, pushing the wheelbarrow back and forth, back and forth, until I thought I would never see the end of it. It seemed to me that the big mountain was not getting any smaller, no matter how hard or long I toiled.
Every now and then, Uncle Ash stopped by the lot to check on my progress. I really respected him. He was one of those older men who seem a little bit gruff but are really soft-hearted on the inside. Looking back, I can see that Uncle Ash was more interested in molding my character than in moving his dirt. He had entrusted me with this job, and I was determined to complete it even if it took me the whole summer.
After a few weeks, I began to feel like I would never be able to complete the task. The original mountain of dirt didn’t seem to be getting any smaller, and I wondered if all my work and effort was making any difference at all, or if I was just wasting my summer.
Then one day, something very simple happened that changed my entire outlook. As I pushed a full wheelbarrow up my pile to dump it, I noticed I had to push the wheelbarrow up higher and higher to reach the top. Then, as I was pushing the empty wheelbarrow back to fill it again, for some reason I stopped midway between the two piles of dirt. I stood and looked at the mountain of dirt I was supposed to move. It hadn’t really changed. But, when I turned around and looked at the mound I was creating, I saw that it had become huge! I was making a mountain of my own.
Suddenly, my perspective changed. The piles were the same size they had been a few minutes before, but my new perspective allowed me to see that my efforts were amounting to something; they were not in vain. It gave me a sense of accomplishment and pride in what I was doing, though I still had a long way to go. As I bent and lifted the handles of the wheelbarrow to return to work, my attitude had changed. I was happier. I felt more worthwhile, more confident in myself.
Uncle Ash also owned a carwash. After I finished moving the mountain of dirt that summer, he hired me to work at his carwash a few days a week after school. He told me later that he gave me that job to move the dirt as a way of determining whether he wanted to hire me for other jobs. I realized that the whole point of the mountain-moving job wasn’t just hauling dirt from one place to another—it was a way for me to be tested and prove I was a diligent, hard-working young man.

Clinical depression was something I never wanted to face again. But after I had been free of it for 12 years, it returned.
I was scared and distraught. I questioned Heavenly Father and prayed for the strength to make it through my trial. I also pleaded with Him that my depression would not last five years, as it had the last time.
My husband and I have three children, two sons and a daughter, who have blessed us with 13 grandchildren. Knowing the despair I faced, my daughter organized the family for a day of fasting and prayer. All the grandchildren, ages 1 to 10, wanted to pray for Grandma, and the three who had been baptized wanted to fast. It was such a comfort to know that my husband, children, and grandchildren would fast and pray on my behalf.
The next day when I awoke from a nap, the feeling of depression didn’t seem so strong. The next day it lifted even further. By the fifth day my depression had lifted completely. That evening, while I was contemplating how this miracle had happened, a voice touched my soul and said to me, “I heard the children.” Heavenly Father had heard them in their innocence and had answered their prayers of humility, faith, and love.
The Savior taught:
“Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven.
“Whosoever therefore shall humble himself as this little child, the same is greatest in the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 18:3–4).
I have corresponded with my grandchildren and thanked them for fasting and praying on my behalf. I told them how much I love them. I told them Heavenly Father had heard them and answered their prayers.
As my grandchildren grow in the gospel, I hope they will remember the time Heavenly Father said to their grandmother, “I heard the children.” And I hope that experience will strengthen their testimony and help them stay strong in the gospel.

One night, while serving as a youth leader in my ward, I arrived at the church and was not surprised to find a group of young men playing basketball in the gym while they waited for opening exercises to begin. I was surprised, however, to see David. He was relatively new in the ward but had already demonstrated that attending Church-related activities was not a normal part of his routine. Coming to a Young Men activity was a big step.
David did a pretty good job of quietly easing into the group without being noticed—that is, until the basketball rebounded off the rim and went straight at him. He caught the ball and realized it was his turn to take a shot. He dribbled a few times and clumsily threw the ball up toward the hoop. It banged hard off the bottom of the rim and came right back at him, hitting him on the arms he had put up to protect his head. Everyone laughed, and so did David.
The ball then went into the hands of another boy, who mockingly imitated David’s awkward shot. As before, most of the boys laughed, but this time David was not laughing. He had come to be a part of his priests quorum but had become the brunt of their laughter.
David turned to the exit and walked out.
My heart broke for David. I was not sure what to do, but I knew I needed to try anything to get him to stay. I followed David out the door, trying to think of something to say that might help him have the courage to come back.
As I was walking after David, I was surprised to see Dennis, one of the other priests, run past me and put his arm around David. I do not know what he said, but Dennis must have been inspired, for David’s heart was softened and he hesitantly, but willingly, turned around and came back into the church. It was a wonderful moment.
It was only a few weeks later when a similar situation occurred. Some of our ward members, including many of our young men, were practicing for an upcoming theatrical performance. Todd, a priest, was one of the performers. During a rehearsal, someone mockingly mimicked Todd’s performance. He was offended and started walking toward the door dejectedly.
“Oh, no,” I thought, “here we go again.” I felt compelled to follow him outside and encourage him to ignore the offense and come back.
What happened next was a beautiful surprise.
This time it was not Dennis who hurried past me, but David. David, who only a few weeks earlier had been the dejected one, was now the inspired one. He ran up to Todd and, putting his arm around him, pleaded with him to return. Todd accepted the invitation, and within minutes both boys were standing side by side on the stage. David had now successfully convinced another to stay.
As I witnessed this example of the Aaronic Priesthood in action, I was reminded of a statement by Elder Neal A. Maxwell (1926–2004) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles: “We are so busy checking on our own temperatures, we do not notice the burning fevers of others even when we can offer them some of the needed remedies, such as encouragement, kindness, and commendation. The hands which hang down and most need to be lifted up belong to those too discouraged even to reach out anymore” (“Swallowed Up in the Will of the Father,” Ensign, Nov. 1995, 23).
David’s hands had been ones that hung down. From the selfless act of one young man to another, David’s hands then became those that lifted up.

Some 13-years ago, when Elder Holland interviewed us—then President Eyring officially called us to serve our first mission—the timing was tough. Although I had already planned to retire after working for about 30 years, my husband was at the peak of his career, our house didn’t sell, and we ventured off to Georgia with our youngest son to serve for 3-years. When we returned, a promised job was no longer available for Steve, so I re-entered the workforce and our paychecks were never the same. We felt like we’d shown faith and sacrificed to do God’s will and wondered why it was not “ideal” on the other side of serving and giving our all. By the way, a wonderful, meaningful job eventually did come for him—one that may have helped lead us here.
In October of last year, we were asked to serve in Laie, again, before we hit retirement age. We were excited for this “grand adventure,” as Elder Gifford Nielsen called it when he extended the call—but, again, we’d be without income and a paying job. But we knew it would be well worth it!
Turns out, there were reasons for both calls…and God knew it! We had much to accomplish and many life lessons to learn, which we acknowledge. And, as we look back and live in the now, we are very grateful for these life-changing, growing experiences.
We found that there were missionaries we needed to love and help… People we needed to meet. It caused us to show faith, have hope, work hard, gather scattered Israel, better empathize with others, and realize that God knows what’s best. He was aware of us and our feelings, He knew our needs and helped us perfectly by preparing the way and carefully leading us along—spiritually and temporally…even during this time of the COVID-19 pandemic, which hit only about 6-weeks after we arrived in Laie.

Even though I had been attending a preschool for three years to help me with my speech problems, when I started kindergarten, my family, friends, and schoolteachers still had a hard time understanding what I was saying. My parents were concerned. My family fasted for me, and my dad gave me a priesthood blessing. My speech didn’t improve overnight, but by the middle of the school year my teacher, my family, and my friends could understand me better. Heavenly Father blessed me and the people who worked with me. I could finally bear my testimony. I still have to take speech classes and work hard, but I know Heavenly Father hears and answers our prayers.

Ten days after my fourth daughter, Carolyn, was born, as I was lifting her out of her bassinet that morning, I noticed that she seemed intensely warm and unresponsive. The doctor was called and he gave instructions to bring her in just as soon as possible. On the way to the doctor, I stopped at the college where I worked and located a fellow member of the church who helped me give her a priesthood blessing. When the doctor saw her 104 degree temperature, he arranged for her to be immediately admitted to the hospital.

After probing her little body for what seemed like hours to find a vein into which they could insert an IV, a couple of spinal taps where a long needle was inserted into the spine to draw fluid, and an endless array of tests, it was concluded that she had contracted spinal meningitis. Meningitis is a medical condition that is caused by inflammation of the protective membranes covering the brain and spinal cord. It is potentially life threatening due to the inflammation's proximity to the brain and spinal cord. Meningitis can also lead to serious long-term consequences such as deafness, epilepsy, brain damage, or loss of vision, especially if not treated quickly.

For four days, as she lay in the hospital in an unresponsive state, I prayed and prayed that my little girl would live so that I could raise her. On the night of that fourth day, I concluded that I had been praying selfishly. I realized that I had been counseling the Lord regarding my daughter rather than seeking His counsel. Instead of asking for what I wanted, I needed to trust the Lord and accept what He had in store.

My prayer that night took a different form. I thanked Heavenly Father for the opportunity to have this little baby girl in my life, even if it had been for only a short few days. I told Him that I understood that she had received her mortal body and that if His plan was to have her return to Him, then I would miss her but I would accept it. As I prayed, a deep feeling of peace came over me. I knew that regardless of what would happen to this little baby, it was God's will and I trusted in that.

The next day, she began to show a slight improvement. The antibiotics she was given appeared to be working. Each of the following days brought further improvements and on Halloween, after ten days in the hospital, my little girl was able to come home. She has grown up healthy and beautiful and has provided us with our most recent grandchild.

Now this experience not only increased my trust in the Lord, it also provided me with an opportunity to help my daughter learn to trust the Lord. She obviously would not be able to remember the event, buy like my mother did for me, I could remind her often during her growing up years of how her life was spared because of the mercies of the Lord, thus helping her to develop a trust in Him that could serve her well as she learned to take over the helm of her own ship.