Gospel Story Finder

Photographs provided by Satomi Folkett
“I’ve wanted to fly airplanes for as long as I can remember,” 17-year-old Lamar F. says. When a friend from his wheelchair racing days told him about a British charity that helps people with disabilities learn to fly, Lamar was eager to try.
He signed up for two of the charity’s programs. One of them, the Junior Aspiring Pilots Program (JAPP), was created especially for youth between the ages of 12 and 18. These programs and other solo lessons are all propelling him one step closer to his big goal—getting his Private Pilot License.
Part of his inspiration comes from his family. Lamar’s foster dad was the first person to get him hooked on flight, taking him to airshows every year. Later, after he was adopted by another family at age four, Lamar’s interest in aviation continued to thrive as he watched his adoptive father pursue a pilot’s license. “He’s my inspiration for wanting to be a pilot,” Lamar says. Now Lamar’s dad can ride with him in the single-propeller, five-seater airplanes Lamar is learning to fly.
Lamar’s parents (pictured here on either side of him) are some of his biggest supports.
On Lamar’s first flight in a real aircraft, he was feeling nervous about remembering everything. “I said a quick, silent prayer before I went up, and I was fine,” he says. Now when he struggles to remember something in the air, those small, silent prayers help him do what he needs to do. Even when his dad isn’t in the back seat, Lamar knows he always has his Father in Heaven with him.
Flying isn’t the only thing that keeps Lamar’s spirits soaring. “I’ve always been a big fan of the British military, everything from a royal coronation to a funeral,” he says.
“Because of my disabilities, I can’t join the military myself,” Lamar says. But one of his former Young Men leaders who used to be a soldier has encouraged Lamar. “He’s always reminded me that I don’t have to be in a worldly military because I’m already in the Lord’s army,” Lamar says. “Being in the Lord’s army makes me feel that no matter what life throws at me, no matter what anyone does to me, I have Jesus Christ on my side.”
Brother Bayliss, Lamar’s Young Men leader, inspired him to join “The Lord’s Army.”
At the special-needs college he attends, Lamar tries to help other people his age join the Lord’s army as he shares the gospel with them. “A lot of the time, I get ignored,” he says, “but some of the time, I get interest. Because of some of my needs at the moment, serving a full-time mission soon is not an option. But I see it like this: I don’t need a name tag to be a missionary.”
With so few youth in his ward, most of Lamar’s friends aren’t members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. That isn’t always easy at school, especially when there are, as Lamar puts it, “absolute loads” of temptations. “There’re lots of students talking about inappropriate stuff and listening to inappropriate music. Basically, whenever something like that happens, I just leave and go to a room where that isn’t going on.”’
When temptations come or others aren’t interested in hearing about the gospel, Lamar holds his favorite scripture high: “But as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord” (Joshua 24:15).
“This scripture has helped me stay strong in the faith of Jesus Christ,” he says. This is especially important to Lamar in his own family. When Lamar was 10, his father stopped coming to church. “I was younger then, so I didn’t fully understand,” he says. “I tried to convince him to come back. But I’ve learned it’s not about that. You give them time.”
Lamar still has a close relationship with his dad and shows him love in everyday ways, like telling him what happened at church or spending time with him. “He’s always taught me that no matter what you go through, you’ve got to stay strong.” To any youth with family members who aren’t active in the Church, he adds, “Stay strong. Hold on to your faith. Don’t give up, no matter what.”
Lamar has also found courage in Christ in other personal ways. “I suffer with quite bad anxiety sometimes,” Lamar says. “I guess the ultimate person to give me courage to carry on is Jesus Christ Himself. He went through so much, yet He carried on with His mission.”
When Lamar is having a particularly bad day, he often imagines the Savior encouraging him, saying, “You can do this. You can get through anything.”
He also draws strength from his mom and dad, his friends, and other people who are close to him. “There was a time where I kind of got led down the wrong path,” Lamar says. But thanks to a good support system, he was able to adjust his course and strengthen his testimony of Christ.
“I’m still developing my testimony,” he says, “but it’s wonderful to be part of the Lord’s army and in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. It’s something that I love.”
His journey may have ups and downs, but Lamar knows what keeps him flying high. “No matter what trials or problems you go through, Heavenly Father will be by your side because He cares about you and loves you.”
For more information about missionary service, including for those with disabilities, go to ChurchofJesusChrist.org/callings/missionary.

This morning, you decide, is an omelet morning. You hop out of bed and chop the veggies. You heat the frying pan. You crack the egg … and your little brother cackles with laughter.
“You did it again!” you groan. Yes, he boiled some eggs in their shells and then snuck them back in with the fresh eggs. It’s his favorite trick. If only there were a way to tell the difference between fresh eggs and hard-boiled ones. Why, that’d be almost as useful as being able to discern between “real” and “fake” information.

“Do I have to ride the bus today?” I knew what the answer would be, but I had to ask, just in case.
Riding the bus every morning was the worst. The older kids teased me. It was hard to find a seat. And I was always lonely.
“Yes, Jason,” Mom said. “Dad already left in the car.”
I dragged my feet to the bus stop. I’d do anything to not ride the bus. Then I had an idea. I jumped behind a big tree.
I heard the bus slow down and stop. Then I heard it pull away.
I did it! I didn’t have to ride the bus. Why hadn’t I thought of this before?
I walked back home and told Mom that the bus had left without me. I promised to be more careful next time. She called Dad, and he came home to drive me to school.
Later that day I saw Ryan, a boy who rode on my bus.
“What happened to you this morning?” he asked.
“I missed the bus,” I said.
“I know, but why were you hiding behind a tree?”
Oh no! “You saw me?”
“Yup. Everyone did.”
I groaned. Now they would tease me more than ever!
All day long I worried. How could I possibly ride the bus now?
The next day I trudged back to the bus stop. Why did I hide? This was going to be the worst ride to school ever!
I squeezed my eyes shut and prayed. Heavenly Father, Please help me be OK on the bus.
Just then the bus turned the corner and slowly rumbled to my stop. The doors opened, and I climbed up the stairs.
Ryan waved and patted the seat next to him. “You can sit here,” he said.
My eyes widened in surprise. Ryan was funny and had lots of friends. And he wanted to sit by me?
“You didn’t hide today,” he said.
I shook my head, hoping he wasn’t going to tease me.
“I don’t like riding the bus, either,” Ryan said. “But it’s a lot better when you sit by a friend.”
I was even more surprised. Did Ryan feel lonely sometimes too?
We talked the whole way to school. Some of the older kids still teased me, but it was easy to ignore them when I had a friend. It was the best ride to school ever!
But the next morning I was worried again. Would Ryan save me a seat? As I climbed up the stairs, I saw Ryan. He smiled and waved me over. It felt so good to have a friend to sit and laugh with. Ryan was my school-bus hero!
The next day Ryan wasn’t on the bus. But before I could panic, I remembered what Ryan had said: I don’t like riding the bus, either, but it’s a lot better when you sit by a friend.
Maybe there was someone else who needed a friend too. I spotted an empty seat next to a quiet boy I had seen at recess. I sat down next to him and asked what his name was.
“Blake,” he said.
Soon we were talking and laughing. I made another new friend!
It doesn’t take much to be somebody’s hero. Just look around for someone who needs a friend!
For the rest of the year I was never afraid to ride the bus again. I knew what it felt like to be alone, so whenever I saw a kid looking around for a place to sit, I patted the seat next to me. I could be a school-bus hero too.

Our plane landed safely. We observed that there were three or four hundred people at the airstrip. President Strong’s son, Bert, also a stake president, was there and was very delighted to see us back safe. We asked Bert why so many people had collected at the airstrip that evening. He informed us that three Mexicans had gone in a two-motor plane across the jungles and mountains to the Usumacinta River that morning about the time we had flown there. They had not returned and the people of Tuxtla were out waiting for them. Some months later Gareth Lowe wrote informing us that the Mexican plane and its occupants had hit a mountain, and all were killed.

This lesson came full circle a couple of years later, when I was eight or nine years old. My father’s doctor’s office was downtown, and I would occasionally stop by to visit him on my way home from school. One day I stopped by, and my father invited me into his office. He said, “I have something I want you to do for me.”
“Sure,” I said. “What is it?”
My dad took from his desk four crisp twenty-dollar bills and said, “I want you to deposit these in the bank for me.” Now, $80 at that time would be worth about $300 or $400 today. That was a lot of money to a little kid.
My father filled out a deposit slip and gave it to me along with the bills. He then asked me to take the money with the deposit slip down the street to the Raymond branch of the Bank of Montreal. I remember thinking at the time, “This is a lot of money! I could buy anything with this much money!” but I quickly got rid of the idea. I knew my father had trusted me with the money, and I didn’t want to betray his trust.
I went straight to the bank and got in line to make the deposit. I remember being the only little person standing in that line. I received a receipt from the cashier, and when my dad came home that night, I proudly gave it to him. He was very kind and told me how much he trusted me and how proud he was that I’d done what he’d asked me to do.

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.

Some years ago there went to his eternal reward one of the kindest and most loved men to grace the earth. I speak of Louis C. Jacobsen. He ministered to those in need, he assisted the immigrant to find employment, and he delivered more sermons at more funeral services than any other I have known.

One day while in a reflective mood, Louis Jacobsen told me of his boyhood. He was the son of a poor Danish widow. He was small in stature, not comely in appearance—easily the object of his classmates’ thoughtless jokes. In Sunday School one Sabbath morning, the children made light of his patched trousers and his worn shirt. Too proud to cry, tiny Louis fled from the chapel, stopping at last, out of breath, to sit and rest on the curb which ran along Second West in Salt Lake City. Clear water flowed along the gutter next to the curb where Louis sat. From his pocket he took a piece of paper which contained the outlined Sunday School lesson and skillfully shaped a paper boat, which he launched on the flowing water. From his hurt boyish heart came the determined words, “I’ll never go back.”

Suddenly, through his tears Louis saw reflected in the water the image of a large and well-dressed man. Louis turned his face upward and recognized George Burbidge, the Sunday School superintendent.

“May I sit down with you?” asked the kind leader.

Louis nodded affirmatively. There on the gutter’s curb sat a good Samaritan ministering to one who surely was in need. Several boats were formed and launched while the conversation continued. At last the leader stood and, with a boy’s hand tightly clutching his, they returned to Sunday School.

Later Louis himself presided over that same Sunday School. Throughout his long life of service, he never failed to acknowledge the traveler who rescued him along a Jericho Road.

I have learned this truth through a personal experience that, though seemingly insignificant, left a lasting impression on me. At the age of 22, while serving in the French Air Force in Paris, I was thrilled to learn that Elder Neal A. Maxwell, an Apostle of the Lord, would be speaking at a conference on the Champs-Élysées. However, just before the event, I received orders to drive a senior officer to the airport at the exact time the conference was set to take place.
I was disappointed. But determined to attend, I dropped the officer off and rushed to the conference. After finding a parking spot, I sprinted down the Champs-Élysées to the meeting place and arrived breathless with only five minutes left before the meeting ended. Just as I entered, I heard Elder Maxwell say, “I will now give you an apostolic blessing.” In that instant, I had a beautiful, unforgettable spiritual experience. I was overcome by the Spirit, and the words of the blessing seemed to penetrate every fiber of my soul as though they were meant just for me.
What I experienced that day was a small yet powerful manifestation of a comforting aspect of God’s plan for His children: When circumstances beyond our control prevent us from fulfilling the righteous desires of our hearts, the Lord will compensate in ways that allow us to receive His promised blessings.

One of grandfather’s finest qualities, and the one that I’d like to make the focus of this article, was his ability to forgive. Examples from his journal are many. Reading them has not only built up our love and respect for him, but it has given my family a greater desire and determination to live this same principle.
In grandfather’s journal dated September 28, 1906, we find the following: “As I piled my hay and did my work, I took twelve piles and stuck over the fence to my neighbor, as they had no hay for the horse and cows; and we could see a little gone from our area the night before.” He declared, “I would rather give them a little than have them steal.”
The Savior taught us this principle of forgiving and how important it is in our lives. He said: “Wherefore, I say unto you, that ye ought to forgive one another; for he that forgiveth not his brother his trespasses standeth condemned before the Lord; for there remaineth in him the greater sin.
“I, the Lord, will forgive whom I will forgive, but of you it is required to forgive all men.
“And ye ought to say in your hearts—Let God judge between me and thee, and reward thee according to thy deeds.” (D&C 64:9–11.)
When we forgive men in our hearts and let the Lord judge the acts of men, we create a condition whereby men can live in peace with one another. Forgiving others frees us of ill feelings toward them. It lifts the burden of grudges from our heads, and it puts us in a position of seeking forgiveness from the Lord for our own sins. A spirit of forgiveness enables us to remain in control of our thoughts, words, and actions. An attitude of forgiveness generates a feeling of peace and optimism about life. Being forgiving helps us to keep from being easily offended, and we are less likely to judge the intentions of others in a negative way. We are also ready to accept correction and criticism ourselves. In times when we may be wronged or mistreated, we can, in the spirit of love and peace, work out solutions to the problems. We can determine a positive course of action. If an honorable agreement cannot be reached, the attitude of forgiveness provides us the strength to turn the other cheek in the spirit of love.
On one occasion some men were constructing a watering gate in a canal on grandfather’s farm. He noticed that they were placing the gate in the wrong location. He tried to persuade them to put the gate in a location that they had originally agreed upon. The foreman became angry. He said, “Johansen, that will be enough from you. We’re going to do just as we please.” Grandfather replied, “And so will all robbers.” Then he began to sing the words of a Danish song that begins, “Be careful what you say.” These words were a reminder to him to remain forgiving. The men continued to build the watering gate, but the gate did grandfather very little good. He never mentioned the wrong that these men had done to him, but he often recorded how he had to pray for rain because he could get so little water from the canal. He also records that the rain came.
Yes, prayer is a very important part of the spirit of forgiveness. We must ask the Lord to forgive those who offend us and soften our hearts toward them. Through prayer we may find the strength to forgive others and leave their judging in the hands of the Lord. We also receive comfort and direction for our own lives. Grandfather Johansen’s life has demonstrated the value of living the principles of forgiveness and obedience. His faith in the Lord enabled him to live a full and happy life, a life which has left his posterity a rich spiritual heritage. I am grateful to him and to my Heavenly Father that my family are the beneficiaries of that righteous man.

The July sun felt hot to Randy Taylor as he stepped onto the pitching mound. He shook the tension from his shoulders and paused as a slight breeze blew in from left field, gently ruffling the pennants surrounding the ball diamond.
Randy carefully toed the pitching rubber and, rocking smoothly through his windup, fired his last warm-up to the plate.
“Play ball!” the umpire bellowed.
“OK, Randy, be a pitcher!” “You’ve got ’em!” “Strike ’em out!” Randy heard his Bluejay teammates call out as they whipped the ball around the infield.
They sure want to win, Randy thought, and he knew why. Today was the Fourth of July, and the city park was as alive as a disturbed anthill. He heard music and laughter coming from the concession booths that had been temporarily installed just south of the ball diamond for the weekend activities. The whump of air guns and the clanging bells at the shooting gallery added to the noise, while the smell of popcorn, candied apples, and other foods filled the air. The stands had a boisterous overflow crowd, and it was for them that the Bluejays wanted to win.
It was still too early in the year for his team’s standing to be affected much by the outcome of a single game, but Randy knew how important it was to perform well in front of such a large crowd. Well, I’ll do my part, he thought confidently as he walked toward Billy Halls, the Bluejay catcher, who was jogging out to meet him halfway.
“Boy, Randy,” Billy sighed as he dropped the baseball into Randy’s open glove. “I wish you’d taken the coach’s advice to practice more often. Who’d have thought that our two starting pitchers would get sick on the same day.”
Randy laughed and said, “Relax, Billy. I’m not third string for nothing. I’ll put ’em across—you just catch ’em.”
Billy slapped Randy on the back, muttered, “Good luck,” and trotted back to his position behind the plate.
Besides, thought Randy, I’ve got my secret weapon. It’ll never let me down.
Randy felt loose and confident as he took his place on the mound. He remembered the family home evening lesson his brother Doug had given the week before on prayer and on the blessings Heavenly Father has in store for those who live righteously. Doug had made several important points. One of them—“And all things, whatsoever ye shall ask in prayer, believing, ye shall receive” (Matt. 21:22)—had become Randy’s secret weapon!
What a super blessing! Randy reflected. Every time he thought about the importance of that scripture, his love for Heavenly Father seemed to increase.
With confidence and determination, Randy gripped the ball and stepped onto the rubber.
In one smooth motion Randy pivoted and fired a strike to the plate.
“Atta boy, Randy!” his teammates yelled. “He’s no batter. He’s a looker!”
Randy felt good and stretched through his windup. The next pitch barely missed the corner of the plate.
The count was one and one. Randy shook off Billy’s sign for a curve and nodded when the fastball sign was flashed. Randy riveted his eyes on Billy’s glove, reared back, and delivered. The ball swooped in fast but began to dip. Billy was forced to dive to keep the ball from scooting through to the backstop.
Two balls and one strike.
Two pitches later the Giant batter was safely on first base. Randy had walked him!
Billy hurried out and urged Randy to calm down. “You’ve got seven guys behind you. Let the Giants hit and see what the Bluejays can do.”
Randy nodded and gulped. Heavenly Father, he silently prayed, I’m asking, and I believe. Please help me out of this. Help me throw strikes.
Randy faced the next batter and eyed the target offered by Billy. Four straight balls later Giant players were on first and second bases.
Randy couldn’t believe it. He’d walked two Giants in a row!
Regardless of how hard he tried and how hard he prayed, the ball just would not go where he wanted it to go.
It became hard for Randy to see the catcher’s glove clearly because of his tears of frustration. Does Heavenly Father really love me? he wondered. Aren’t those words in Matthew true?
The coach walked out to the mound two batters later. Four Giants had walked, and the score was Giants 1, Bluejays 0. It should really read Giants 1, Randy the Slob 0, Randy thought miserably as he trudged to the bench.
He sat in the corner of the dugout, wanting to be alone. But soon he felt the presence of somebody sitting beside him. Randy looked up to see his brother Doug smiling.
“Have a piece of gum, Randy,” Doug offered.
“I’ve just embarrassed the whole Taylor family!” Randy blurted out. “I’ll never be able to show my face again. And it’s all because of your lesson on prayer the other night!”
“What do you mean, ‘my lesson’?” Doug asked, surprised. “What’s my lesson got to do with your game?”
“The scripture said, ‘And all things, whatsoever ye shall ask in prayer, believing, ye shall receive.’ Well, I asked, and I believed, but I didn’t receive!”
Doug nodded. “So that’s it.”
“Yeah, that’s it,” muttered Randy, tears filling his eyes again. “Heavenly Father must not love me.”
“That’s not true, Randy,” Doug said. “Heavenly Father does love you. But you were so excited by that scripture that you didn’t hear the rest of the lesson. Other scriptures tell us that we will be helped by our Father in Heaven after we’ve worked and prepared. ‘Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you’ (Matt. 7:7). The words seek and knock mean doing something, right?”
Randy nodded.
“Well, I seem to recall times when you should have been practicing pitching,” Doug reminded Randy. “That’s what you didn’t do. We need to work as though everything depends on us, and pray as though everything depends on Heavenly Father.”
“I guess you’re right,” Randy admitted. “I remember that other part now.”
“Give Heavenly Father another chance to help you, Randy, only this time help Him out. Don’t ask Him to do all the work, and maybe you’ll become a good pitcher yet.”
Randy smiled determinedly. “Thanks, Doug,” he said. “I’ll be a great pitcher someday, just you watch!” But this time, he added to himself, there’ll be no secret weapon—only good, hard work and a lot of prayer.

On the other hand, those who can serve and don’t, often have regrets. Take the case of the doctor who said, “In college I told my friends that my mission was to become a doctor. So while my classmates took two years out to serve the Lord, I continued my studies. Now, 30 years later, and with perfect hindsight, I can plainly see the score. Whereas I was able to relieve the physical suffering of people two years sooner than my friends who went on missions, they relieved the spiritual suffering. My medical relief lasted only a few years, but their spiritual relief will last throughout the eternities. There is no difference now in my medical practice and the practice of my friends who went on missions. I see now that I was short-sighted and selfish.”

Peter, a young priest, wrote of an experience that taught him that priesthood power is very real. A young convert in his ward in Ontario, Canada, was sustained as a teacher in the Aaronic Priesthood, and Peter was asked to be the “voice” in the ordination. Peter wrote: “I had never laid my hands on anybody’s head before, and I felt so inadequate. But then the Spirit reassured me that it would be fine for me to do it. …

“The young man to be ordained sat down in the chair, and I stood directly behind him. [Our Young Men president] guided me through the ordinance prayer and I repeated every word he said. After we had finished the ordination and said, ‘… and we wish to pronounce a blessing on your head at this time …’ [the Young Men president] looked at me and indicated that I was on my own.

“At that point, the priesthood entirely changed its meaning for me. It was no longer just a title, but the actual authority to act in God’s name, and I was giving that authority to someone else. I paused and waited for the Spirit to whisper to me what I was to say. It is difficult for me to describe the feelings I had that day during the blessing, but I can say that I now have a stronger testimony that the power of the priesthood is real.”

Because of a drought, my husband, John, and I had to either sell our beef cattle at a loss or move them from the Melba Valley, in southwestern Idaho, USA. Fortunately, John found summer range at a cousin’s family farm, located in the Preston area, about 300 miles (480 km) away.
We arranged for a trucker to take all 40 cattle in one load, but he didn’t like the looks of a rough ranch road that led to the cattle pasture, still 20 miles (32 km) away. To our disappointment, he unloaded them at nearby stockyards. There we were, late in the day with 40 head of cattle to transport and no way to do it.
John stopped a local farmer, explained our plight, and asked for help. Minutes later Bishop Steve Meeks and his young son followed us to the stockyards to see what could be done.
The cattle had become unsettled. Seeing a broken section of fence at the stockyard, they ran toward it, seeking freedom. All the cattle hurdled the fence into another enclosure—except for one cow. She managed to get most of the way over, but one hind leg slipped between two fence planks. She ended up hanging precariously on the fence, one front foot barely touching the ground. She kicked her other hind leg furiously in an effort to free herself.
Releasing the cow would require hoisting equipment. If she broke a leg, we would have to put her down. To lose a cow would put considerable financial strain on us.
The cow weighed more than 1,000 pounds (455 kg), and we could not get near her, nor help her if we did. The havoc on the fence made the rest of the cattle nervous.
I didn’t think there was anything we could do, but at that moment I remembered Amulek’s counsel in the Book of Mormon: “Cry unto him when ye are in your fields, yea, over all your flocks” (Alma 34:20). I withdrew myself from the others, knelt down, and prayed with all the sincerity of my heart. Concluding my supplication, I pleaded, “Heavenly Father, please help the cow.”
I returned to the corral, the prayer still lingering on my lips. By now the cattle had quieted somewhat, including the one on the fence.
Suddenly, the largest of the milling animals broke away from the herd. Resisting our efforts to turn her back, she moved toward the dangling cow. Lowering her head, she dropped to her knees, forced her way under the stranded cow, and staggered slowly to her feet. She lifted the tangled cow into the air and then lowered her. The cow was free! A hoist could not have done as well.
As the two cows ran back to the herd, Bishop Meeks stared in disbelief at what he had just witnessed. My tears flowed as I whispered, “Thank You, Heavenly Father.”
Anyone who knows cattle will tell you that cows do not reason things out in their minds. But there is an explanation for this incident. Heavenly Father hears and answers prayers. He answered mine—at a stockyard in Preston, Idaho.

My brother, Bruce, was just a year ahead of me in school. He was everything a high school boy might want to be: football star, class president, good looking, popular. I was known as “Bruce’s little sister,” and I thought he was way too cool to associate with me. Sometimes I even felt sorry for him—that people knew he was related to me. Most of the time I felt sorry for myself. I avoided him in the hallways so I wouldn’t feel bad if he didn’t say hi.
All that changed one night. After Mutual, while waiting for rides, a boy my age grabbed my sweater from me. As I was trying to get it back, he threw it on the ground and started to run away—right smack into my big brother. Bruce demanded he pick up the sweater, and growled to him, “That’s my sister! Don’t you ever treat her like that again!” In that one moment I realized he was protective and proud of me.
By the next year I had gained enough confidence to run for class president myself! Bruce helped with my campaign and cheered at my speech. Since he was Senior Class President, he helped count ballots. After the count, he pulled me aside to tell me I had lost by a small margin. “I cheered every time a vote came in for you,” he said. I realized my brother had always loved me. It was my own insecurities that made me think he didn’t. Even though I lost the election, I felt like a winner.
Denalee C., Nevada, USA

The fraternity of priesthood quorums can indeed be awesome. When I became a member of a Quorum of the Seventy, I assumed that I might be accepted by my brethren in the course of time if I were able to prove myself worthy of their association. I hoped someday to measure up and be approved. I was surprised to find myself immediately welcomed and from the outset treated as a brother, as an equal by men much more talented and accomplished than I. I have been supported and encouraged, loved and tutored in my quorum from my very first day of membership in it. Consequently, I feel a deep desire to contribute to the work of the quorum and to assist my brethren as much as I can.

As their faith in Jesus Christ sustains Tamton and his family in times of need, it also comforts them in times of sorrow. Several years ago one of their sons died while fishing for octopus. He was only 22, but he suffered a heart attack alone out in the ocean.
Tamton’s eyes get moist as he speaks of his son. “The news broke our hearts,” he says. But then his eyes brighten. “We want him sealed to us.” When Tune was their district president, he taught Tamton and Taake about the priesthood and its power to seal families together forever in the temple. They are eager to go.
But with few resources, they have yet to see a temple let alone visit one. Still, Tamton and Taake are trying to find a way. Tune says that if they die before they go to the temple, he will make sure their work is done for them. He encourages them to fill out the necessary family records. Perhaps their children will be able to do the temple work they cannot.

There is yet another trial which, when endured well, can bring blessings in this life and blessings forever. Age and illness can test the best of us. My friend served as our bishop when my daughters were still at home. They speak of what they felt when he bore his simple testimony around campfires in the mountains. He loved them, and they knew it. He was released as our bishop. He had served as a bishop before in another state. Those I have met who were from his earlier ward remember him as my daughters do.

I visited him in his home from time to time to thank him and to give him priesthood blessings. His health began a slow decline. I can’t remember all the ailments he suffered. He needed surgery. He was in constant pain. Yet every time I visited him to give him comfort, he turned the tables; I always was the one comforted. His back and legs forced him to use a cane to walk. Yet there he was in church, always sitting near the door, where he could greet those arriving early, with a smile.

I will never forget the feeling of wonder and admiration which came over me when I opened the back door at home and saw him coming up our driveway. It was the day we put out our garbage cans to be picked up by city workers. I had put the can out in the morning. But there he was dragging my garbage can up the hill with one hand while he balanced himself with a cane in his other hand. He was giving me the help he thought I needed when he needed it far more than I did. And he was helping with a smile and without being asked.

I visited him when he finally had to be cared for by nurses and doctors. He was lying in a hospital bed, still in pain and still smiling. His wife had called me to say that he was getting weaker. My son and I gave him a priesthood blessing as he lay in the bed with tubes and bottles connected to him. I sealed the blessing with a promise that he would have time and the strength to do all that God had for him to do in this life, to pass every test. He stretched out his hand to grasp mine as I stepped away from his bed to leave. I was surprised at the strength of his grip and the firmness in his voice when he said, “I’m going to make it.”

I left thinking that I would see him again soon. But the phone call came within a day. He was gone to the glorious place where he will see the Savior, who is his perfect judge and will be ours. As I spoke at his funeral, I thought of the words of Paul when he knew that he would go to that place where my neighbor and friend has gone:
“But watch thou in all things, endure afflictions, do the work of an evangelist, make full proof of thy ministry.
“For I am now ready to be offered, and the time of my departure is at hand.
“I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith:
“Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, shall give me at that day: and not to me only, but unto all them also that love his appearing.”
I have confidence that my neighbor made it through his trial and will face his judge with a joyous smile.

The story is told of Ali Hafed, a wealthy ancient Persian who owned much land and many productive fields, orchards, and gardens and had money out at interest. He had a lovely family and at first was contented because he was wealthy, and wealthy because he was contented.
An old priest came to Ali Hafed and told him that if he had a diamond the size of his thumb, he could purchase a dozen farms like his. Ali Hafed said, “Will you tell me where I can find diamonds?”
The priest told him, “If you will find a river that runs through white sands, between high mountains, in those white sands you will always find diamonds.”
Said Ali Hafed, “I will go.”
So he sold his farm, collected his money that was at interest, and left his family in charge of a neighbor, and away he went in search of diamonds, traveling through many lands in Asia and Europe. After years of searching, his money was all spent, and he passed away in rags and wretchedness.
Meanwhile, the man who purchased Ali Hafed’s farm one day led his camel out into the garden to drink, and as the animal put his nose into the shallow waters, the farmer noticed a curious flash of light in the white sands of the stream. Reaching in, he pulled out a black stone containing a strange eye of light. Not long after, the same old priest came to visit Ali Hafed’s successor and found that in the black stone was a diamond. As they rushed out into the garden and stirred up the white sands with their fingers, they came up with many more beautiful, valuable gems. According to the story, this marked the discovery of the diamond mines of Golconda, the most valuable diamond mines in the history of the ancient world.
Had Ali Hafed remained at home and dug in his own cellar or anywhere in his own fields, rather than traveling in strange lands where he eventually faced starvation and ruin, he would have had “acres of diamonds” (story paraphrased from Russell H. Conwell, Acres of Diamonds [1960], 10–14).
We feel only pity for Ali Hafed as we picture him wandering homeless and friendless farther and farther away from the happiness he thought he would find in digging up diamonds in a far-off place. Yet how many times do we look for our happiness at a distance in space or time rather than right now, in our own homes, with our own families and friends?

My wife, Ruby, and I did not grow up in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. But in her youth, Ruby was exposed to many different churches and teachings. Through consistent and diligent prayer, she identified teachings she felt to be true, forming a set of beliefs from the teachings of various Christian churches. I was raised in a single church and knew little of any others.
After our marriage, we attended church together, but I began to question the faith I had been raised in and asked my wife questions regarding doctrine. She wisely and simply responded, “Have you ever read the Bible?”
I had not, so we read the entire Bible together. As we read, I wrote down questions that remained unanswered. We began searching for a church that taught everything we had discovered. During the next two years, we visited many churches, requested literature, read about philosophy and religion, and prayed. I became convinced that the Lord’s Church was not on the earth.
We lacked wisdom and needed heavenly help (see Joseph Smith History 1:11–13). So, we sincerely prayed together, asking God to show us the way. Shortly after we prayed, missionaries from the Church appeared on our doorstep. Ruby immediately felt the truth of what they taught. Their teachings resonated with her and matched the answers she had received many years earlier when she had prayed as a youth. The missionaries answered all of my questions too, but I wanted to be sure. I read the Book of Mormon, Doctrine and Covenants, and other Church books.
We also attended church every week and lived gospel teachings. At length, I recognized the fruits of the Spirit of God in my life (see Galatians 5:22) and received a strong testimony. We were baptized, received the gift of the Holy Ghost, and were later sealed in the temple.
We have never regretted joining the Church. It has kept our marriage strong during hard times, and the legacy of being close to the Spirit of God is living on in our six children.

On a trip to visit my brother, I was seated in the back of the plane where the flight attendants sit. The two rows of seats in that area face each other.
I introduced myself to the people sitting around me and then mentioned that I would be attending Brigham Young University. A man sitting across from me said his daughter had a good friend who had just left on a full-time mission. His daughter knew a little about the Church, but he knew almost nothing. The flight attendant immediately proclaimed that she wouldn’t want to belong to “that church” because it opposed women. The man said he had heard something similar—that Latter-day Saint women were considered less than men, that they couldn’t hold the priesthood or preside in meetings, and that the Church was male dominated.
Then, turning to me, he asked, “How do you feel about that?” All seven people turned to me and waited.
My heart began pounding. As a child I had memorized the Articles of Faith for just such an encounter, and as a teenager and young adult I had practiced bearing testimony of Joseph Smith’s vision and of the Book of Mormon. But I didn’t have the faintest idea how to answer the man’s question. I prayed silently for Heavenly Father to guide me.
Then I said the first words that came to my mind: “You simply don’t know about Relief Society.” The looks on their faces indicated that they didn’t.
“The priesthood functions in conjunction with the women, all of whom are members of Relief Society,” I explained. “We have a woman Relief Society president who guides the activities of the women in the Church all over the world. The responsibility of the women is to bring tenderness and charity into the lives of the members and especially into the lives of their families.”
The people around me listened attentively.
“We live in a strange time when some women want women to act and think and be like men. But we believe God divides tasks. We expect women to be leaders among the women and joint leaders in their homes. The men lean heavily on us for counsel in these areas. It is a righteous balance. It makes our Church organizations and our homes successful. And we truly believe that the man is not without the woman, nor is the woman without the man in the Lord (see 1 Corinthians 11:11). We believe we are not whole without each other. We do not believe we were created to compete with one another but to complement one another.”
I felt blessed when I had finished. I knew the words I had spoken were from the Spirit. Every person seemed satisfied with my explanation. Then the man said, “Tell us more about your church.”
Then, for the next two hours, I had the joyous opportunity of talking about the Restoration, answering questions, and bearing testimony of the gospel I love.