Gospel Story Finder

When I was twelve, the bishop asked me to help him deliver Christmas baskets to the widows of the ward. I felt honored to be asked. It was snowing on the day that we made the deliveries. I remember that the backseat of the bishop’s car was filled with baskets containing grapefruit and oranges. This was during World War II, when grapefruit and oranges were scarce, so they were quite a treat. The bishop waited in the car while I took a basket up to the door and said, “The bishop asked me to deliver this to you. It is a Christmas basket from the ward.”
Soon we had delivered all the baskets but one. The bishop took me home, and before I got out of the car, he handed me the last basket and said, “This is for your mother.” Then he drove away.
I stood there in front of our house, snowflakes falling on my face, holding the basket and wondering and thinking. We had been delivering baskets to widows, and I hadn’t thought of my mother as a widow. I had never heard her refer to herself as a widow. That was the first time it occurred to me that somebody thought that she was a widow.
I realized that Mother handled that circumstance with a great deal of faith. She taught us that we had a father and she had a husband and that we would always be a family because of her and my father’s temple marriage. I’d always just felt that my father was away because the Lord had called him to another work. I knew other kids had dads who took them hunting and fishing, and I felt that absence keenly. But those were war years, so I thought of myself as like a boy whose father was away in the war. My father would be away for a very long time, and it hurt me that he wasn’t there, but I knew that someday we would be together again. Since that time, my testimony of the importance of temple marriage has grown even stronger. How grateful I am for temple marriage and for the blessing of being sealed together as an eternal family.

Not long after my call as a General Authority, I received a letter from an amazing, inspiring young woman. She told a powerful story of love, commitment, and missionary success. I’m fortunate to have contributed in small part to that success.

The letter is from Kendra Beesley Campbell, who was only 15 when the events described began. Let me share a portion of her letter with you:

“I don’t think you will remember me. I am from Columbus, Georgia, and when you were the mission president of the Georgia Atlanta Mission I had a brother leaving for a mission. Because I was at the peak age of peer pressure, my brother was concerned that while he was on his mission preaching the gospel to ’strangers,’ his sister (me) might choose to go the way of the world and lose sight of the purpose of our being here on this earth.

“Well, to assure my brother that I would be a ‘good girl’ while he was away, I made a deal with him that I would ‘go on a mission’ at the same time. Of course mine would only be part-time, but still it would be my ‘mission.’ So I told him that I would baptize one person for every five he baptized, since he would be full-time and I would be part-time. I felt good about this agreement.

“Then I spoke to you. I’m not sure exactly what happened, but you convinced me that I should turn the challenge around—I should baptize five to his one. And for some reason, I accepted your challenge, not knowing what the Lord had in store for me!”

Then Kendra noted that shortly after her brother arrived in the mission field, he and his companion baptized a family of four. That meant she now needed to baptize 20! Kendra said, “I began to work right away. I had the missionaries over every Thursday evening. But I fell short of my goal. Only 11 people were baptized. But at least two of them have served missions, and I can’t count the number of lives that have been touched by the Spirit.”

Eleven people! And two have served missions! And Kendra was only 15 at the time she began “her mission.”

I tracked her down. I found that she had moved to California.

She said my suggestion of turning the one-to-five baptism arrangement around caused her some fear at first, but she began taking the measures necessary to accomplish her revised goal.

Kendra’s missionary vigor helped 11 people join Christ’s true church and acquainted many others with its teachings. And Kendra herself grew tremendously while on her “mission.” She says it was the happiest time of her life because she cared so much about other people.

At the close of one of her letters to me, Kendra expressed joy that her “mission” really hasn’t ever ended. I sustain her in that thought. Though our callings in life may seem to change occasionally, their purposes remain the same—to help each other return to our Father’s presence.

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.

Actually, the musical tradition started with Sally’s mother. As a little girl her mother lived in a rural area in Idaho, and she sold milk to earn money for piano lessons. She also managed to earn enough money to buy her first piano. Knowing that her mother had made sacrifices in her life to play the piano, Sally grew to love music as well, and she has passed this love of music on to her own children.
This is why Lindsey can claim a standing ovation not only from a New York audience in Carnegie Hall but also from the Young Women and Young Men in her ward after she performed for an etiquette night activity. To the Brintons, it doesn’t matter how big or small the venue is as long as they can share their talents with others—another tradition passed down from Sally’s mother, who was ward organist for 30 years and never turned down an invitation to perform, including for the ward Christmas party.

Jasmin, a member in the southern United States, admits that “I had a hard time getting along with a sister in my ward who seemed to meddle in my life too much, and I let that drive me away.” But when concern for her little boy began to outweigh the uncertainty of what it would be like to return, Jasmin knew it was time to “not let others’ opinions of me turn me away from Christ—whether or not I felt that someone in the ward looked down on me.”
She mustered up enough courage to venture out in a heavy storm one Sunday to where her small family soon felt embraced by friends who could help them grow in the Church of Jesus Christ. “I regret leaving,” she says. “But I’m grateful that I didn’t give up and that I pushed forward, because the gospel isn’t about others—or even me—it’s about my Savior.”

Brigham Young was still feeling sick in late August when he and the return company left the Salt Lake Valley for their trip back to Winter Quarters. Over the next three days, the small company traveled rapidly through dusty canyons and over steep Rocky Mountain passes.24 When they arrived on the other side, Brigham was glad to learn that Parley Pratt and John Taylor’s large caravan of Saints was only a few hundred miles away.
Brigham’s joy vanished a short time later, however, when he learned that the caravan was four hundred wagons larger than he had anticipated. The Twelve had spent all winter organizing Saints into companies according to the revealed will of the Lord. Now it appeared that Parley and John had disregarded that revelation and acted of their own accord.25
A few days later, Brigham and the return company met up with the caravan. Parley was in one of the lead companies, so Brigham quickly called a council with Church leaders to ask him why he and John had disobeyed the quorum’s instructions.26
“If I’ve done anything wrong, I am willing to right it,” Parley told the council. But he insisted that he and John had acted within their authority as apostles. Hundreds of Saints had died that year in Winter Quarters and other settlements along the Missouri River. And many families had been desperate to leave the area before another deadly season set in. Since some Saints in the companies the Twelve had organized were not yet prepared to leave, he and John had chosen to form new companies to accommodate those who were ready.27
“Our companies were perfectly organized,” Brigham countered, “and if they could not get through, we were responsible to them.” The Word and Will of the Lord had clearly directed each company to “bear an equal proportion” of the poor and the families of the men serving in the Mormon Battalion. Yet Parley and John had left many of these people behind.28
Brigham also disagreed that two apostles could overturn the decision of the quorum. “If the Quorum of the Twelve do a thing, it is not in the power of two of them to rip it up,” he said. “When we got the machine moving, it was not your business to stick your hands among the cogs to stop the wheel.”29
“I’ve done the best I could,” Parley said. “You say I could have done better, and if I am to take blame in it, and say I’ve done wrong—I’ve done wrong. I am guilty of an error and am sorry for it.”
“I forgive you,” Brigham replied. “And if I don’t do right,” he added, “I want every man so to live in the sunshine of glory to correct me when I’m wrong. I feel bowed down to the grave with the burden of this great people.”30
Brigham’s weariness was evident in his face and gaunt frame. “I look upon myself as a weak, poor little man. I was called by the providence of God to preside,” he said. “I want you to go right into the celestial kingdom with me.”
“I want to know if the brethren are satisfied with me,” Parley said.
“God bless you forever and ever,” Brigham said. “Don’t think any more about it.”31

As walls in Europe break down, two LDS girls are doing their best to extend international understanding. Samantha Broadribb of the Norwich Ward, Norwich England Stake, and Geertje Bauerfeind, of the Leipzig Second Ward, Leipzig Germany Stake, have started their own exchange program.
Samantha, a 16-year-old studying German, decided to contact a fellow seminary student in what was then the German Democratic republic. Geertje invited Samantha to stay with her for several weeks to get a taste of life in East Germany. Then Geertje visited Samantha and her family in England for ten days. Geertje loved London’s lights at night.

“When I was released, for some reason I didn’t want to go to the Protestant school anymore. I wanted to go to another school called AKAS. So my grandmother enrolled me in 1974. During that year, Eb Davis, the LDS mission president in Fiji, came to our school to select 10 students to attend Liahona High School on Tonga. Attending high school is a great opportunity. Only two groups had gone before. I was older than most and had been out of school for two years, so I didn’t have much hope I would be selected. But I was.
“The big problem for my family was finding the money to purchase the required round-trip airfare. I asked my father, ‘How will you get the money? We don’t have any.’ My father had a terminal illness that left him unable to work, but he said, ‘We’ll get the money.’ My mother sewed for the hospital and had some money saved. My uncle and other relatives also helped. It seemed a miracle, but we came up with the money.
“So there I was in 1975 at Liahona High School. When I came to the campus, I thought I was in heaven. The people were clean, the school was clean, and the men were wearing ties. And then I discovered this was a church school, run by Mormons. I had no idea what a Mormon was, so I asked.
“That first Sunday I started the missionary discussions. Grant Howlett, one of my teachers, taught me. I was really excited. I had promised the Lord I would be a missionary if He healed me, and I knew I couldn’t be a missionary until I joined the Church. I was baptized on 22 June 1975—the first from our group. When my friends asked why I joined the Church so quickly, I said, ‘I couldn’t reject anything they taught. I just felt it was what my Father in Heaven wanted me to do.’”

If records had been kept of prayers answered, the world could not contain the many volumes. From Elder Glen L. Rudd, an emeritus General Authority and beloved associate, comes this treasured testimonial:

“I received a phone call informing me that a family member, a 12-year-old girl named Janice, was in the hospital with critical injuries. Her mother wanted her to receive a priesthood blessing.

“Elder Cowley and I went to the hospital. There we learned details of the accident. Janice had been hit by a city bus. The double rear wheels had passed over her head and body.

“Elder Cowley and I entered the room where Janice lay. She had a broken pelvis, a badly injured shoulder, multiple broken bones, and severe head injuries that were beyond repair. Nonetheless, it was our feeling that we should administer to her and bless her. I anointed her with oil, and Elder Cowley sealed the anointing. In a strong and resolute manner he blessed her to become well and whole and to live a normal life. He blessed her that she would recover with no lasting effects from her many injuries. It was a great blessing and a truly magnificent moment.”

Elder Rudd goes on to say: “Janice didn’t move a muscle for more than a month. We never lost faith. A blessing had been pronounced that she would get well and have no lasting impairments.”

Elder Rudd concluded: “Many years have now passed since that hospital visit. I spoke with Janice recently. She is now 70 years of age, the mother of 3 children, the grandmother of 11 grandchildren. To this day, she has not suffered a single negative effect from her accident.”

Hers is but one of many such healings. But none stands as a greater witness of how Heavenly Father helps His children through prayer than the one that took place in a hospital room, with 12-year-old Janice and two humble servants of God, some 58 years ago.

“When I was about your age,” he began,” “we lived in that old farmhouse near your grandpa’s home, the house they use as a storage shed now.
“Your grandpa had been angry with me because I wasn’t doing everything that I should have been. I got all the lectures about obedience and responsibility. I was scolded, coaxed, and threatened, but still I did only what I wanted. I figured that I was old enough to make my own decisions.
“One morning your grandpa told me to be home right after school because he needed me to help him and my brothers irrigate the fields. He said that if I didn’t help, I would lose all privileges.”
“You mean that Grandpa was going to ground you?” I asked.
“Something like that,” Dad answered thoughtfully. “Well,” he continued, “I tried. I really did. But one of my friends asked for some help with our math assignment. By the time I got home, Dad and my brothers were already down at the irrigation canal, starting to turn the water into the fields.
“That canal was about two miles down the old gravel highway. When we lived in the old house, that highway was the only way through town. Oil tankers used it to get from the refinery to the storage tanks on the other side of town.
“I didn’t want to walk two more miles after having just walked home from school, so I went to the barn to get a horse. Well, Dad and my brothers had taken all the horses except one—Brandy.
“Dad had always told me, ‘Brandy is too spirited to ride with a nose loop. If you ride her, use a bridle.’”
“What’s a nose loop?” I interrupted.
“A nose loop,” Dad explained,” is made by wrapping a rope around the horse’s nose, then using the ends of the rope as reins. It isn’t the best way to ride a horse, but it’s all right when you ride a gentle one and you’re careful not to hurt it.
“I looked all over the barn for a bridle,” Dad continued his story, “but I couldn’t find one. I decided that I would risk riding Brandy to the irrigation canal with a nose loop, then trade horses with one of my brothers.
“I caught Brandy, put on the nose loop, climbed the fence, and jumped onto the horse’s bare back.”
“Weren’t you afraid of riding Brandy that way, Dad?” I asked.
“I think I was more afraid of what Dad would do if I didn’t make it to the canal,” he answered, “so I headed down the highway.
“Everything went pretty well for the first mile. I held the rope tightly, pulling Brandy’s nose in toward her neck. That was a mistake, but I didn’t know it then.
“She started getting restless. Soon she was skipping and jumping around, and I knew that I was losing control of her. I was within a half mile of the canal, though, and thought that I could make it. Then one of those oil tankers came up the highway.”
“Did the truck hit you and the horse, Dad?” I broke in, forgetting to even wonder why Dad was telling me a story about Grandpa’s horse.
“No, Danny,” Dad replied. “The driver blew his air horns, which was probably the worst thing that he could have done.
“Brandy spun around and headed for home at a full gallop. I grabbed a handful of her mane and held on for dear life. I bounced on her back, only managing to stay on because of my death grip on that handful of mane. Brandy never slowed down.
“As we got closer to the house, I knew that I would never make it. Your grandpa had just put up a barbed wire fence on the road to the corral where Brandy was sure to turn.
“When we reached the road, she made the turn at a full gallop. All I can remember after that is that I came off her back and headed for the wire. But instead of hitting the wire, I hit a fifty-five gallon metal drum.”
“Were you hurt bad?” I asked.
“Yes, Danny,” Dad said. “I remember waking up in a hospital bed. I hurt all over, my arm was in a cast, and my head throbbed. Your grandma and grandpa were both there.
“Your grandpa came close to the bed and smiled. ‘I’m glad that you’re back with us,’ he said. ‘You had a pretty nasty fall.’ Then he handed me this hunk of horsehair.”
Dad handed me a picture frame that had been in his desk. It held a bunch of coarse brown hair.
“It was part of Brandy’s mane,” Dad continued, “the part that I had been holding onto. ‘You might want to keep this as a reminder,’ your grandpa said to me. ‘Maybe it will help you remember to never ride Brandy with a nose loop.’
“That’s all that he ever said about that day. I knew what he meant. If I had obeyed, I wouldn’t have ended up in the hospital.
“I’ve kept that hunk of hair ever since to remind me that there is always a reason for obedience.”

Church leaders were assigned by the First Presidency of the Church to reorganise the stake presidency. They had prayed and received impressions to their hearts and minds (See Doctrine and Covenants 8:2) that Kumaitotoya, who was then serving as a bishop, was the man the Lord had chosen.
Kaumaititoya received authority to lead the stake as Church leaders placed their hands on his head and blessed him in the same manner as the disciples were in the Biblical account found in John 15.
Elder David A. Bednar, of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, taught that the priesthood is the authority to act in the name of Jesus Christ. He said, “Because Christ is not here with us, His priesthood is needed to teach His doctrine and to perform the ordinances of salvation. Priesthood authority is given to worthy male members of the Church and is received ‘by the laying on of hands by those who are in authority, to preach the Gospel and administer in the ordinances thereof’ (Articles of Faith 1:5). Theological training or reading the Bible does not convey priesthood authority; rather, it comes from God according to the pattern He has established.”1
The call in 2013 came as a surprise to 45-year-old Solomone Kaumaititoya. It was not something for which he sought or to which he aspired. In fact, it caused him deep introspection and feelings of inadequacy. He would continue in his full-time career as an airline purser to financially support his family.
Kaumaititoya prayed fervently, asking, “Lord, what do you want me to do? What do you want me to say?” He also wondered, “How can I still do my job and be a stake president?”
The answers came to Kaumaitotoya in the form of scriptures and dreams that penetrated his heart deeply.
The words found in Moses 1:39, “For behold, this is my work and my glory—to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man,” left an impression upon Kaumaitotoya. He said, “This was a call to do the Lord’s work. It wasn’t about me.”
Dreams came to President Kaumaitotoya every few days when he was first called. He was shown some of the events that would happen in the stake. He said, “I knew what to do because I had seen it in a dream.”
He found that his life experiences had also prepared him in ways he couldn’t foresee. President Kaumaitotoya had a very difficult childhood. As a young teenager, he climbed a hill one day to pray and to ask God why he had to go through such hard things.
He recalled, “I was really angry with God. I couldn’t understand why the Lord would let me go through such hard things. I was asking Him why?”
Kaumaitotoya didn’t understand, at first, the answer that came on the hill that day: “For your experience.”
As he served, he made sense of what “for your experience” meant, when a teary congregant walked into his office to seek his ecclesiastical counsel about a similar family situation. Afterwards, it dawned on Kaumaitotoya what the answer to his boyhood prayer meant. His path and his challenges had prepared him to minister to and serve people with understanding and love.
Lavinia Kaumaitotoya voiced her gratitude for her husband’s opportunity to serve. She said, “I have seen my husband grow and change to become a more spiritual, loving father and husband. I have seen him coming to know the Saviour.”
Latter-day Saints believe that callings or invitations to accept responsibilities or offices in the Church, are opportunities for growth and refinement. Serving the Lord and others in these volunteer roles increases love for God and for His children. It is a blessing to sacrifice time and energy for the Lord and to be called by Him to do His work.
Nine years ago, when Lavinia and Solomone Kaumaitotoya learned that it was time for a new stake president to be called, they fasted and prayed. They called upon the Lord to bless those seeking inspiration to know who the Lord wanted to lead their stake. They prayed that their stake would be blessed.
Almost as a bookend, the Kaumaitotoya’s again fasted and prayed the week before the stake conference when Solomone would be released as stake president, offering prayers of gratitude, and seeking blessings for the new stake president.
Solomone Kaumaitotoya declared, “President Adrian Yee has the authority to lead the stake now, and I sustain him. I’m ready to do whatever the Lord wants me to do.”

Five-year-old Jodi loved to sing, especially Primary songs. She and her older sister, Mickell, were often asked to sing for programs and for other special occasions in their ward and community.
One afternoon Mom received a phone call from Sister Crofts. As she hung up the phone, Mom said, “Sister Crofts has invited our family and a few other families from our ward to go to the care center where her father lives to hold a special family home evening.”
“What is a care center?” Jodi wanted to know.
“A care center is a place where people live who need nurses and other trained people to help care for them. Sister Crofts would like us to do some musical numbers there. She also said that maybe our families could go to the public indoor swimming pool after the program.”
Jodi’s eyes lit up with excitement. “That sounds like fun! Can we go? Please?”
“We’ll have to ask the rest of the family what they think, but I feel sure that everyone will agree.”
The rest of the week, Mom helped Jodi and Mickell prepare two of their favorite Primary songs for the program. Soon the special day arrived.
Jodi felt nervous as she walked into the large room at the care center. She thought that most of the people looked very old because they had gray hair and many of them sat in wheelchairs. Some of them glanced up and smiled at her, but some of them looked sad.
Jodi’s family quietly found a place to sit until their turn to sing. Jodi soon realized that the girl sitting next to her wasn’t very old. But she looked different from anyone Jodi had seen before. She wore a helmet on her head and a large towel was tied around her neck. Jodi noticed that the girl could only use one side of her body. She could not talk, either, but she did make some happy-sounding noises when she heard the music.
A nurse explained that the girl and her mother had been in a car accident a few years before. The mother had been killed, and the girl had suffered severe brain damage. She had to wear the helmet to protect her head, and she had to keep a towel around her neck because she did not have very much control over her body and often drooled. The nurse told them that the girl enjoyed listening to music, and she loved having children come to visit.
Jodi felt sad to think that the girl had lost her mother and that she had been hurt so badly in the accident.
Jodi and Mickell sang their very best, and they were happy that nearly everyone in the room looked up and smiled at them as they sang, and clapped loudly as they finished. One lady even shouted, “Beautiful! Beautiful!”
Jodi felt very warm inside and was happy that her family had come that night.
Sister Crofts thanked Jodi’s family for helping with family home evening. She said that her father and the others had enjoyed the program and were glad that they had come.
After leaving the care center, the group ate a picnic and then enjoyed a few hours of swimming at the indoor pool. It had been a great family home evening!
That night as Mom was helping her get ready for bed, Jodi said, “I had fun singing for those people at the care center, but I felt bad for some of them.”
Mother smiled as she put her arm around Jodi. “It was wonderful that we could sing for them, but we probably should have taken the time to give each one of them a hug. There are some people who don’t have anyone to give them hugs.”
“I like hugs.”
“Everyone needs hugs.” Mom gave Jodi a hug that only mothers can give. Then, noticing the look of concern that crossed Jodi’s face, she asked, “What’s wrong, honey?”
“Mom,” Jodi said in a hesitant voice. “I don’t think I could have hugged that girl I sat by.”
Mom smiled at Jodi’s honesty. “Jodi, do you think Jesus would hug that girl?”
Jodi thought for a moment. “I know that Jesus would hug her. He loves everyone.”
Mom smiled and asked Jodi to follow her to the piano in the family room. She opened Children’s Songbook to pages 140–41, one of Jodi’s favorite songs. As her mom played, Jodi sang:
“If you don’t walk as most people do,
Some people walk away from you,
But I won’t! I won’t!
If you don’t talk as most people do,
Some people talk and laugh at you,
But I won’t! I won’t!
I’ll walk with you. I’ll talk with you.
That’s how I’ll show my love for you.
Jesus walked away from none.
He gave his love to ev’ryone.
So I will! I will!”
That gave Jodi something to think about. “Thanks, Mom,” Jodi said as she gave her mother a hug and a kiss. Then she went to say her prayers before climbing into bed.
The next morning, Jodi jumped up with excitement and ran to find Mom. “I had the best dream last night! It was a very happy one about that girl I sat by. And in my dream, I gave her a hug! May we please go to the care center again soon?”
“I think that’s a great idea!” Mom said with a smile.

“Annie, we need a cabbage for Christmas dinner tomorrow,” Mother said. “Please go to the Olsens and trade these potatoes for one. Hurry now. Night’s coming.”
Eleven-year-old Annie sighed, dropping her knitting and picking up the burlap bag of potatoes. It was a tradition in Norway for families to have a cabbage for Christmas dinner, and Annie knew it would be delicious. But she didn’t want to leave the warm fire. “Can Gunnild come, too?” she asked hopefully.
“No, she must feed the goats and help your father.”
Annie buttoned her sheepskin coat and hurried outside into the brisk air. The snow crunched under her feet and the sharp wind whipped her blonde braids as she scurried down the path.
A few minutes later she reached the Olsens’ cabin and rapped on the wooden door. Mrs. Olsen peeked out, her blue eyes wide with surprise.
“Why, Annie! What are you doing out in this bitter wind? Your cheeks are as bright as strawberries. Come in and warm yourself.”
Annie’s fingers and toes tingled as she stood by the crackling fire. “Mother asked me to trade these potatoes for a cabbage,” she said.
“Oh, child, I’m sorry. I have no more cabbages. We ate our last one yesterday.” Mrs. Olsen stirred the big black kettle hanging over the fire. “Would you like some porridge?”
“No, thank you,” Annie replied. “I can’t stay. Do you know where I can get a cabbage?”
“The Petersens may have one. Jens had a good crop this year. But if you go there, you must hurry. It feels like there’s a storm brewing.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Olsen,” Annie said as she hurried outside. Tucking the bag under her arm, she plunged her hands deep into her pockets and trudged forward. The icy wind slapped her face, and black clouds rumbled overhead.
After what seemed like hours, she reached the Petersens. Luckily, Mrs. Petersen had an extra cabbage to trade for Annie’s potatoes. Waving good-bye, Annie headed home. Tiny snowflakes fluttered around her, covering the path with a goose-feathery whiteness.
Annie thought of her family’s warm cabin. She could almost smell the savory lutefisk (dried codfish) and potatoes cooking. Perhaps her mother was also making riskrem (rice pudding) and hiding an almond inside. Maybe Annie would be the lucky one to find it.
The snow began to fall faster. Thick flakes coated her eyelashes and buried the path. Annie stared at the landscape ahead of her, struggling to find the trail. “Is that our cabin?” she thought, noticing a dark shape in the swirling snow. But it was only a thicket of trees. Annie was confused. “Where am I?” she wondered. “Why do the mountains look like giants?” She felt like she was in a dream.
Huge snowdrifts seemed like a warm, white feather bed, urging her to stop and sleep. At first she resisted by thinking about home. She plodded forward on what felt like wooden-post legs, clutching her cabbage. But finally her weary legs collapsed, and she lay down, wrapping herself in a soft blanket of snow.
Back at home, Annie’s father stared out into the whirling whiteness. Where was Annie? He bundled up in his heavy coat and grabbed his lantern. He hurried down the trail, shouting into the wind, “Annie, Annie!”
Next to a giant spruce tree he noticed a strange mound. He rushed forward, swinging his lantern. In the dim light, he saw a pale figure in the snow. Was it Annie? He rushed to her, gathering her in his arms and wrapping his fur coat around her.
“Please, God,” he prayed, “let her live.”
A faint breath stirred Annie’s lips as she whimpered, “Papa.”
“Annie, you’re alive! It’s a miracle!” he cried. “God has preserved your life for a special purpose.”

A mission had been a great desire of mine since I was a child. But since I married young, I put the dream aside while we raised our children, hoping that my husband, Ben, and I might be called later in our lives.
That lifelong hope appeared to be crushed when Ben suffered a stroke at the age of fifty-four which took away his ability to speak, write, or read and paralyzed his left side. In spite of a miraculous recovery through the power of the priesthood, he was still handicapped in many ways when our bishop called us in twelve years later to interview us for a mission. The stroke had left Ben unable to speak properly, so that he had difficulty communicating with anyone except family members. Words just did not come out right, and he had not been able to pray vocally or even ask a blessing on our meals. His left arm had been amputated; his right leg was swollen and painful much of the time; and he was likely to get a heart attack when under tension.
Furthermore, our financial income was small—about as small and inadequate as we felt. But we had no misgivings about accepting the call. Ben felt that if the Lord needed him or wanted him, that was it.
Our stake president was not too sure about submitting the application to Church headquarters. However, the Missionary Department’s advice was, “Send in the papers, and we’ll let the Brethren make the decision.” I prayed fervently that there might be a place suited to us where we could help in building up the kingdom. A few weeks later, when our call came to serve in the southeastern United States, my joy was full. I knew without a doubt that my prayers had been answered.

The Prophet Joseph was truly blessed with the ability to inspire faith. One bright morning Joseph walked up to John E. Page and said, “Brother John, the Lord is calling you on a mission to Canada.”
John E. Page was rather astonished and said, “Why, Brother Joseph, I can’t go on a mission to Canada. I don’t even have a coat to wear.”
The Prophet Joseph took his own coat from his back, handed it to John Page, and said, “Here, John, wear this, and the Lord will bless you.” Brother Page took the coat, went to Canada, and in two years walked five thousand miles and baptized six hundred souls, because he trusted in the words of a prophet of God.8

While other boys were out playing little league baseball, Greg spent a lot of time working on the family farm, milking and feeding cows, cleaning out the milk tank, you name it. He doesn’t regret the time spent—it taught him to work hard. But he won’t tell you he loved it either, although he did have a number of ways to make the long, tedious hours go by faster. He took great pride in trying to do the best job he possibly could. If he was working with others, he would talk to them, laugh with them, joke with them, and get to know them better. And then, when he had a spare second, he would dream about what he would try to accomplish in the future.

“I wasn’t the most athletic kid in the school, I wasn’t the most intelligent, and I certainly wasn’t the best looking, so I decided I’d try to be the friendliest,” he said. “One way to feel good about yourself is to make other people feel good about themselves.”

Included in his dreams was a desire to be a student body president. He got over his miserable junior high defeat and decided that he would run when he got to high school. But just a short time before he was to announce his candidacy, his best friend told him he’d decided to run and asked Greg to be his campaign manager. Greg complied and helped him win, deciding that he could run for the office when he got to Ricks College.

But when Greg got to Ricks, he decided to sacrifice his political ambitions in favor of serving a mission in Indonesia. “I had a lot of misconceptions about the mission field,” he admits. “When you hear missionaries come back and say those were the best two years of their lives, you think it’s going to be all roses, but it’s not. It’s the hardest thing you could possibly do, and that’s what makes it great. I really learned to appreciate things I had to work for and sacrifice for. I learned to accept, appreciate, and love people who were different from me.”

When Greg returned from his mission, he finished up at Ricks, then went on to BYU. He never had satisfied his dream of becoming a student body president, but the thought of presiding over BYU’s 27,000 students seemed overly ambitious to him. His sister Kristie was convinced he could do it though. She helped him find a running mate, served as his campaign manager, and after a lot of hard work, Greg was elected by one of the biggest margins in BYU history.

“That really helped prepare me for where I am now,” Greg says. And actually, he is quite surprised to be in this position at Harvard. He’d already satisfied his goal of serving as a student body president, and knowing how many hours he’d put into the position at BYU, he didn’t think he could handle it at graduate school. After much prayer and a lot of requests from fellow students, however, Greg decided to give it a try. A lot of hard work went into that election too, and it paid off.

Even though Greg has won a multitude of other awards and titles, he feels that some of his greatest satisfaction comes when his accomplishments put him in a position to answer questions about the Church. “I’m constantly being questioned about our beliefs,” he says with a smile. “And I’m always happy to talk with anyone.”

And they’re usually happy to listen. Fellow students scrutinize Greg a little closer than they do other classmates. Not only is he their president, but he’s also one of a handful of LDS people they might know.

Tomorrow he’ll probably be walking Wall Street, but today, on the brisk Monday afternoon, his class discussions are finished and he walks over to one of the numerous meetings he has each week. Many students call out to him, greeting him by name. Some glance at him with a mischievous look in their eyes and call out, “Hi, LARRY!” That’s Greg’s first name, but he hates to be called that and they know it. On the first day of class this year, the student body gave him a standing ovation and shouted out, “Larry! Larry! Larry!” It’s impossible to take yourself too seriously with classmates like that.

Still, many of them ask him how he’s accomplished what he has. “My theory of success,” he tells them, “requires two things—that you work hard, and that you pray hard.” Greg slides into his seat at the head of a large conference table, and the other student body officers begin to file in. He is prepared. He should be. He was up until 2 A.M. making use of his theory of success.

We are reminded of a young boy whose home was threatened by a severe storm. All day there had been reports of it on the radio and when evening came, he and his mother heard frightening warnings. The boy grew more and more upset. Suddenly, with a loud crash, the power failed. The radio became silent and the house was plunged into darkness. Then the mother heard muffled sobs from her young son.

“Try not to be upset,” she told him. “We’ve prepared as well as we could. After all, we are together, and there’s nothing more we can do about it.”

“I know,” he answered. “I know there’s nothing we can do about it. But isn’t there something more we can do about us?”

So in the darkness the mother and the boy knelt together and prayed for courage and comfort and safety. The storm did not cease, but a sweet peace came to them and stayed in their hearts until help arrived.

May 26, 1853 I went to Fourchu, a place 6 or 7 miles from Gabarouse. On my way along the beach I saw a large duck on the waves, picking among the kelp. This was a desolate place, no houses for 6 or 7 miles. The Spirit said to me, “You are going among strangers. No Saints there. Take the bird with you.” So I sat down right where the wave broke and the bird floated straight towards me, picking among the kelp and sea weed. When it got close to the shore it put its head under its wing, so I jumped and caught it. It was lively enough then and tried to get away. So when I got to Fourchu (6) I went to a house, asked if that was Mr. Cann’s. They said yes. I told them I had come over from Gabarouse to preach the Gospel to them. I had forgotten the duck. I then happened to notice them looking at it. Says I, “Here is a bird. I saw it out on the water and I thought I would bring it along, that it might be good to eat.” Says he, “Is it hurt?” “No, Sir.” I handed it to him. Heexamined it very close and said it was all right. It was cooked. We ate it. It was fat and good. A few came in. We had a meeting. The sectarian minister had poisoned the minds of the people, but Mr. Cann and family treated me very kindly … and spoke favorably to others of me.

Astrid and Jennifer, sisters, found the Church before the missionaries could find them. Jennifer was interested when she heard about the Church in a religion class at school and did some research. In the local library she found German translations of the Book of Mormon and William E. Berrett’s The Restored Church. She and Astrid read them together. Skeptically, they looked in the Bremen phone book to see if they could find a reference to this “American” church. They were pleasantly surprised to find a meetinghouse in their very own hometown. They wrote to the meetinghouse, asking how to go about joining this restored Church of Jesus Christ. Of course, we were glad to help.

Lizzie wiggled and squirmed as she sat watching the deacons pass the sacrament bread. She thought, It’s sure hard to sit still and be reverent while the deacons pass the bread and water. I wonder if all my friends will be in Primary today. I want to tell them about the presents Grandma and Grandpa sent from Portugal. I can’t wait to see them when they come home from their mission!
In a few minutes, a deacon reached their row. When Lizzie took a piece of bread, Mom leaned over and whispered, “This is to help us remember Jesus.”
Lizzie tried to think about all the things that she knew about Jesus. She thought about the story of Jesus visiting the Nephites after he was resurrected. He had blessed each child; then angels had come down from heaven. If only she could have been there!
Then Lizzie remembered a bedtime song Mom sometimes sang to her and her younger brother, Paul:
I think when I read that sweet story of old,
When Jesus was here among men,
How he called little children like lambs to his fold;
I should like to have been with him then.
I wish that his hands had been placed on my head,
That his arms had been thrown around me,
That I might have seen his kind look when he said,
“Let the little ones come unto me.”*
Lizzie smiled quietly to herself and thought, I wish I could have been with Jesus then.
While she bowed her head for the prayer on the water, Lizzie listened carefully to the words. When she heard the priest say, “that they may always have his Spirit to be with them,” she wondered how she could have his Spirit with her.
The deacon passed the water to the family, and again Mom whispered to Lizzie, “This is to help us remember Jesus.”
Lizzie had a new thought. I didn’t live when Jesus was on earth, but he loves me just as much as he loved the children then. The sacrament prayer says that I can have his Spirit with me always if I remember him and am obedient. That’s great!
Lizzie snuggled up against Mom and smiled as the young men finished passing the sacrament. Thinking about Jesus had helped her be reverent during the sacrament, and she had such a good feeling inside that she knew she had done the right thing.