Gospel Story Finder

As a young woman, I had planted myself upside down. My halfhearted efforts at attending church, paying tithing, and having regular prayer and scripture study had slowed my spiritual growth almost to a halt. In high school it became clear that I would need to choose between my current direction and the Lord’s direction. I then decided to replant myself, try my best, and rely on the Lord’s care.
With all my strength I began pushing up toward the Son, working my way past feelings of doubt, anger, insecurity, and selfishness. It wasn’t long before I realized how much Heavenly Father loves me, how much He has blessed me, and how much He wants me to reach my full potential as His daughter. I was given nourishment from Young Women leaders, bishops, seminary teachers, and friends. My righteous desire, however, was not without trials and tears. In His loving mercy, Heavenly Father gave me a push here and there when I felt that I could push no more. He helped me grow from my setbacks and successes. No sunflower, after having sensed the light of the sun, would bury itself back in the ground. I too could sense the light of the Son, and I would no longer hide myself from His goodness and joy. I would “follow the Son, with full purpose of heart” (2 Nephi 31:13).

As we come to the close of another conference, our spirits have been lifted, our minds inspired, and our souls filled.
The messages delivered at this pulpit have provided words of counsel and guidance for our journey through mortality. The prayers have been offered with humility, and their petitions reflect the feelings of our hearts. The angelic music provided by the choirs at each session has confirmed the Lord’s words that “the song of the righteous is a prayer unto me, and it shall be answered with a blessing upon their heads” (D&C 25:12).
We sincerely regret that President Ezra Taft Benson has been unable to be with us here in the Tabernacle. Nonetheless, we have felt his spirit throughout the proceedings. His love of the Lord, for the membership of the Church, and for God’s children everywhere is legendary. His many acts of kindness have blessed the lives of those with whom he has met everywhere he has gone.
One Friday, he and Sister Benson followed their usual practice of attending a session at the Jordan River Temple. While there, President Benson was approached by a young man who greeted him with joy in his heart and announced that he had been called to fill a full-time mission. President Benson took the newly called missionary by the hand and, with a smile on his lips, declared, “Take me with you! Take me with you!” That missionary testified that, in a way, he took President Benson with him on his mission, since this greeting demonstrated President Benson’s abiding love, his devotion to missionary work, and his desire to ever be found in the service of the Lord.
With the rapidly developing changes on the face of Europe, we remember President Benson’s great service to the hungry and to the homeless on that continent at the close of World War II. In attendance today is one who was the recipient of such service. She recently wrote to President Benson: “This is the first time in my life that I am here in Salt Lake City to attend general conference. I hope you will remember our first acquaintance in the autumn of 1946 in Langen, Germany. You and I will never forget the remarkable days following the Second World War. We will never forget your help for the refugees in those sad days. Now, forty-four years have gone, and we have both grown older. I wish you happiness and the blessings of the Lord all the days of your life and send you all my love.”
If President Benson were here at the pulpit at this, the conclusion of the final session of this glorious conference, he would extend to you his love, his admonitions, and his blessing. May I, with President Benson’s own words, provide you his counsel:
“Let us be valiant in our testimony of Jesus all the days of our lives” (Come unto Christ [Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1983], p. 16).
“His word is one of the most valuable gifts He has given us. I urge you to recommit yourselves to a study of the scriptures. Immerse yourselves in them daily so you will have the power of the Spirit to attend you. … Read them in your families and teach your children to love and treasure them” (“The Power of the Word,” Ensign, May 1986, p. 82).
“It is soul-satisfying to know that God is mindful of us and ready to respond when we place our trust in Him and do that which is right. There is no place for fear among men and women who place their trust in the Almighty and who do not hesitate to humble themselves in seeking divine guidance through prayer. Though persecutions arise, though reverses come, in prayer we can find reassurance, for God will speak peace to the soul. That peace, that spirit of serenity, is life’s greatest blessing” (“Pray Always,” Ensign, Feb. 1990, p. 5).
He continues: “I am getting older and less vigorous and am so grateful for your prayers and for the support of my younger Brethren. I thank the Lord for renewing my body from time to time so that I can still help build His kingdom. … God willing, I intend to spend all my remaining days in that glorious effort” (in Conference Report, Oct. 1988, p. 5; or Ensign, Nov. 1988, p. 6).
President Benson is a man of love, and this love he would have me extend to you in his behalf. He has a beautiful voice and has often sung the melodic strains of a favorite hymn:
God be with you till we meet again;
By his counsels guide, uphold you;
With his sheep securely fold you.
God be with you till we meet again.
God be with you till we meet again;
When life’s perils thick confound you,
Put his arms unfailing round you.
God be with you till we meet again.
[Hymns, 1985, no. 152]
To the membership of the Church and to God’s children everywhere, our prophet, President Ezra Taft Benson, conveys to you the tender feelings of his heart, his gratitude for your prayers, and his abiding love. God be with you, brothers and sisters, till we meet again, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

I remember another occasion when I was in Australia on a mission. I went up to visit the Jenolan Caves—very wonderful, spectacular caves. And as we walked through them, the guide said, “If some of you will get out and stand on that rock over there and sing a song, it will demonstrate the capacity of this cave.”
Well, the Spirit said to me, “Go over there and sing ‘O, My Father.’ I hesitated, and the crowd walked on. I lost the opportunity. I never felt good about that. The only thing that ever made me feel the Lord had forgiven me was when I heard President McKay say, “I was inspired one time to do a certain thing when I was in the mission field, and I didn’t do it.” He said, “I have always been sorry since.” He said, “Never fail to respond to the whisperings of the Spirit. Live so you can receive it, and then have the courage to do as it instructs.”

I would like to explain what honoring the priesthood means to me. In this regard, I am like many other young men in the Church who are preparing to one day worthily enter the temple and to serve a mission.
I live in Tucson, Arizona, with my parents, my brother Stephen, my grandfather Juan, and my great-grandmother Maria. As a member of the Sonora Ward in the Tucson Arizona Stake, I have enjoyed many opportunities to magnify my callings in the Aaronic Priesthood. I have helped clean yards of the elderly and others unable to take care of their homes. I have also helped clean the church cemetery and ballpark. But what has helped the most in learning to honor my priesthood was an experience I had in helping my own family.
One summer my aunt and uncle left my four young cousins with my parents. I was asked to baby-sit them much of the time. During those months, I had the interesting experience of learning how to change diapers and fix lunches as well as figure out ways to keep my little cousins from getting into trouble. The first few days were hard on all of us, but by the end of the summer, we were all enjoying ourselves and doing well. I learned to appreciate what parents have to teach their children, and by the end of the summer, I felt a greater love for my cousins than I’d ever felt before.
I learned that one of the most important ways I can honor my priesthood is to obey the Lord’s commandments and to honor my parents. I once heard a speaker say, “If we love, we obey, for the Lord said, ‘If ye love me, keep my commandments’” (John 14:15). When I obey, I know that I am a worthy priesthood holder. The guidance that comes from my Heavenly Father is for my own good. He knows who I am and has a plan for me and for my salvation. I don’t always understand why I have to do certain things, but I know that there are eternal reasons for doing them.
There also have been times when my parents wouldn’t allow me to go places or do things I wanted to do. I have not always been happy about their decisions. But many times I have come to realize that they were right. For example, when I was younger, some of my friends were going to a “teen night” at a nightclub, and my parents wouldn’t let me go. I was upset and felt that my parents didn’t trust me. But after my bad feelings left, we talked about the temptations all around us and how my being at the nightclub would be opening the door to greater temptations. We also talked about my being worthy to pass the sacrament and about honoring my priesthood. I love my Heavenly Father and my parents, and I know that love and obedience go hand in hand.
I have been preparing myself to be worthy of the ordinances of the temple. One of the ways I have been doing this is by keeping myself morally clean. It is a major challenge in these times to be morally clean and respectful of ourselves and others. Some people think that being sexually active outside of marriage is acceptable, but the Lord has taught us that only by maintaining high moral standards will we be able to enjoy all the blessings he wants to give us. Being immoral is totally unacceptable to the Lord and to his church.
The pamphlet For the Strength of Youth gives simple guidelines that help teach us how to be worthy to one day enter the temple. My bishop challenged the youth of our ward to always keep this pamphlet with us. If he asked us to show it to him and we couldn’t, we would owe him a candy bar. I feel the pamphlet has helped us stay on the “strait and narrow path” (2 Ne. 31:18).
I began preparing for full-time missionary service when I was five years old. I remember going to church with my grandparents because my mom was not active and my dad wasn’t a member. One Sunday I came home and told my mom, “Next Sunday you have to go with me to church. My friend Juanito takes his mom and dad, and I don’t, so my friends are going to start thinking I don’t have a mom and dad.”
Well, when Sunday came, I had forgotten about it, and Mom wasn’t about to remind me. When she took me to my grandparents’ so they could take me to church, I reminded her that she said I could take her with me. She made some excuse and said she couldn’t go with me that Sunday—but maybe next Sunday. I know she said that so I wouldn’t bother her, and she probably figured I’d forget about it. But when Saturday came around, I reminded her that she had to go to church with me. I helped her pick out a nice dress to wear and took her to church that Sunday. She’s been going with me ever since.
We’ve come a long way since then. Shortly after my mom’s reactivation, we focused on converting my father. I know that missionaries in the field work in pairs, but in our home we formed a threesome: Mom, my brother Stephen, and myself. Dad didn’t have a chance! We used to talk about the children’s hymn we were going to sing in the car, and we kept reminding each other to bless our food and hold family prayer and set a good example. My dad did join the Church and is very active now. In March 1987, we were sealed as a family in the Arizona Temple in one of the greatest events of our lives. We are working hard on becoming an eternal family.
Besides working with my family, I know that I should keep the Word of Wisdom, because a full-time missionary needs to be physically fit as well as morally clean. I need to study the scriptures and attend seminary because it takes some ability to memorize discussions and scriptures and be prepared to teach the gospel. My parents have also taught me the importance of speaking more than one language because “every man shall hear the fulness of the gospel in his own … language” (D&C 90:11).
I think my greatest asset when I serve a mission will be my ability to make and keep friends. When you befriend someone, it is much easier to teach that person the gospel. I know that I need to prepare myself spiritually and physically by being obedient to my Heavenly Father and my parents so that I can have the Spirit as my constant companion. If we do these things, I know we can overcome the temptations of the world and honor our priesthood, serve missions, and enter the holy temple.

On 23 February 1979 Elder Richards was taken to the hospital, where he remained in critical condition for nearly a month. His obituary was written, and the First Presidency and the Twelve were informed that it was only a matter of hours before he’d be gone. But gradually Elder Richards recovered.
Later, in a meeting of the Twelve, Elder Richards said, “I read in the minutes where you’d received word of my imminent demise, but I fooled you, didn’t I?”

During my school’s values-education month, our teacher asked us to write an essay titled “Why am I here?” It had to be a 10-paragraph essay on the topic of our purpose in life. As I read the topic on the board, my heart was filled with comfort and happiness. As a member of the Church, I had known my purpose as a daughter of God for many years. But as I looked at my other classmates’ faces, my heart was filled with sadness. Why? Because they started to murmur regarding the difficulty of the topic. They didn’t have the same knowledge I did.
When I turned in my essay, I realized how blessed I am to be a member of the one true Church. From that day on, my desire to serve a mission and share my testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ was strengthened.
I know that Heavenly Father loves me and wants me to be with Him someday. I also know that it is my purpose to serve others.
Jaymee A., Philippines

Richard had a lucky hat. He wore it to breakfast, and he wore it to bed. In fact, he hardly ever took it off. His grandfather had given it to him, and on the very first day that he wore it, Richard had caught a fish.
“It must be a lucky hat,” Grandfather had said, and Richard knew that it was true.
But it was hard to keep a hat on all the time—even a lucky hat. He couldn’t keep it on in the shower or when he went swimming. It was almost impossible to keep his hat on when he turned a somersault or did a cartwheel. And when it was windy, or when Richard ran really fast, his hat would be blown onto the ground.
When it blew off Richard’s head, his little brother Andrew would snatch it up and run with it because he wanted a lucky hat too. But no matter how much Andrew cried or screamed or kicked the floor, he always had to return it. The hat was Richard’s—Mother had said so!
Richard was glad he didn’t have to share his hat. I don’t know what I’d do without it, he thought. He had learned to do many things while wearing his lucky hat. He had learned to throw a football and to ride his two-wheeler without the training wheels. He had learned to build a house three stories high out of play logs. And now he could even write his name on the drawings he made for his mother.
But of all the nice things that had happened to Richard while he was wearing his lucky hat, the very best thing had been meeting his new friend Bernie. Bernie had moved in right next door, and he was just the kind of friend that Richard had always wished for. All summer long they had played together. Now that fall was coming, they would start school together too.
Once, Richard had been afraid to go to school. He was scared that he wouldn’t know where to go or what to do. He was scared that he wouldn’t make any friends. But since he had his lucky hat, and since he had his new friend Bernie, he wasn’t afraid at all. He couldn’t wait for the school doors to open.
And when they did, it was wonderful. He liked the room full of bright colors. He liked his teacher, Miss Evans. And he liked his classmates. Richard liked everything about school—that is, he liked it until the moment Miss Evans noticed his hat. “Please take off your hat, Richard,” she said. “You mustn’t wear it in the classroom.”
“But it’s my lucky hat,” Richard pleaded.
Miss Evans insisted, though, so Richard removed his hat. He stuffed it up the front of his shirt, but it made his stomach itch. He tucked it into his belt. But a boy grabbed it and wouldn’t give it back. Miss Evans finally took the hat and put it into her desk drawer. “You may have it back after school, Richard,” she promised.
The next day Richard didn’t want to go to school at all. First he said his head ached. Then he said his throat was sore. And then he said his stomach hurt. It did, too, because Richard was scared. But he had to go to school anyway—Mother said so.
So Richard took his lucky hat and put it up high in his closet, where Andrew couldn’t get it. Then he trudged to school with Bernie.
“It will be terrible without my hat,” he said to Bernie. But the day surprised him. Miss Evans gave him a big smile when he helped her pick up some papers she had dropped. Then he was the third one chosen in a game of ringtoss. Later his painting with the big yellow sun was hung on the wall for the whole class to see. That made Richard very proud, and he could hardly wait to tell his mother. Afterward he went out to play with Bernie and forgot all about his hat. He did remember it at bedtime, but he was too tired to get it down.
So the lucky hat stayed safe, high up on his closet shelf. Richard didn’t think of it again until two weeks later. He was looking for his favorite blue racing car when he found his hat. He dusted it off and tried it on. It fit as well as it ever did, but somehow it didn’t feel right.
“It’s hard to wear a hat all the time,” Richard murmured, “even a lucky hat.”
He took it off and started to put it back on the shelf. Then he thought, I don’t need this anymore, but I know who does.
And Richard climbed down from the stool and went to find Andrew.

Angie shook the tin box, and the loose change rattled against the metal sides. Opening the lid, she let the coins fall onto the carpeted floor where she was sitting. “Seventy-three cents,” she muttered, remembering the lace-trimmed valentine in the store that cost a dollar. Frustrated, Angie kicked the box and it went flying across the room.
The front door opened, and Angie looked up.
“Hi,” said her brother David. “You beat me home from school today. Is Mom home from work yet?”
“No,” said Angie, as she stooped to pick up her money.
“What’s all this doing on the floor?” David asked.
Angie looked up, trying to force her tears back. “Oh, David, I saw this beautiful valentine yesterday, and I really wanted to buy it for Mom. But I only have seventy-three cents, and it costs a dollar.”
David bent down to help pick up the scattered coins. “I wish I could help you, Angie. But I only have about six cents to my name.”
“I just can’t ask Mom for money to buy a card for her,” sighed Angie.
“Why don’t you make her one?” asked David. “You know how much she likes things that we make for her.”
“I do that all the time,” wailed Angie. “But I wanted to get her a really fancy valentine.”
David dropped the rest of the change into the box. “Well, go back to the store and find a smaller card that won’t cost as much as the big one you liked.”
“OK, but I hope I can find one I like,” Angie said, taking the box from David.
It was almost closing time when Angie arrived at the store, and no one else was in the card department. Angie looked again at the large card that she had wanted to buy. Flowers decorated the edges, and rows of paper lace peeked from behind the red heart. Angie sighed, then turned to look through the smaller valentines.
She opened and closed several cards, but none appealed to her like the big valentine on which she had set her heart. Angie read the verses on some of the cards, then turned around to leave.
On a rack by the card department were rows of colored paper and paper doilies. Angie stopped. Just maybe, she thought, looking back at the large valentine in the card section, maybe I can make Mom a big card! Angie picked out a large piece of red construction paper and some paper doilies. Next she went to the candy counter and searched the showcase until she found the red and white striped peppermints that were her mother’s favorite candy. Smiling, Angie opened her box and counted out the money. She had more than enough for four paper-wrapped candies.
David was waiting by the door when she returned home. “I was just getting ready to come looking for you. What took so long? Did you find a smaller card?”
Angie smiled. “I’m going to give Mom a giant valentine. And I still have some money left.” She rattled the little box and walked into the living room with a large brown paper sack.
“Let me see what you have,” said David.
“Not yet. It’s a secret,” said Angie, and she went into her bedroom with the package.
After dinner Angie gathered up some old magazines and scissors and went back into her room. She came out once for glue.
“Do you want some help?” asked David. “I’m finished with my homework.”
“No,” said Angie, “but thanks anyway. I don’t want to ruin your surprise.”
“Mine?” asked David.
Angie carefully shut her bedroom door. She smiled, thinking about David’s surprised expression. Again, she began to look through the old magazines.
Two stacks of words surrounded Angie. One set described her mother; the other described David. Carefully Angie glued the paper lace around a red heart, then she began to position the words in place.
As she glued the picture of a football on David’s valentine, she thought, They’ll know right away which valentine is theirs. Then, pulling off some tape, she attached the peppermint candies to the one for her mother. She had just finished when Mom knocked on her bedroom door. Angie quickly pushed the valentines under her bed.
“Time to get ready for bed,” said Mom, coming into the room. “You must be tired. You haven’t been out of your room all evening. Is everything OK?”
Angie smiled. “Everything is super, Mom. I can hardly wait for tomorrow.”
“Neither can I,” replied her mother with a wink as she noticed a large, lacy valentine with the word Mom on the bottom poking out from under Angie’s bed.

The man who became one of the Urdu translators was converted to the Church in Pakistan while working as a teacher. As a result of his conversion, he lost his job; he lost his house, which was provided by the school where he taught; and he lost the schooling for his children. A Church translation supervisor approached him about serving as a translator and offered him a modest recompense. After working as a translator for a few months, the man visited with the supervisor and timidly asked if the supervisor would buy him a new ballpoint pen. The one he had been using had run out of ink. Only then did the supervisor discover and fix a clerical error that had resulted in the translator receiving much less than what he should have been paid.

“How many pennies are equal to a nickel?” Mrs. Connor, the kindergarten teacher, asked.
Christopher’s hand shot into the air, but Mrs. Connor acted as if she hadn’t seen him. She called on Tony, who wasn’t even raising his hand. Tony fidgeted in his seat, staring at the floor. “Five?” he asked doubtfully.
“That’s right! Good job, Tony.” Mrs. Connor walked over to Tony and mussed his hair a bit. That was something she did when she was happy with you. Tony smiled with relief.
Christopher sat poised for action as the next question was asked.
“How many pennies are equal to a dime?”
Christopher raised his hand high above his head, but Mrs. Connor called on Caroline.
“Next question: How many pennies equal a quarter?”
Christopher waved frantically. “I know, I know,” he chanted in a half whisper.
Again he was overlooked. Disappointed, he slumped back and gave up. He didn’t even raise his hand for the next two questions, though he knew that the answers were fifty and one hundred. “Why doesn’t she call on me?” he wondered. “She must not like me.”
“Christopher.”
She was calling on him! His heart leapt with excitement. He sat up and faced the teacher, ready to answer any question she might ask.
“How many pennies are equal to five dollars?”
“Wow!” Christopher thought. “That’s a new question.” He paused, thinking hard. Then he saw how it worked. “Five hundred,” he answered.
“Very good, Christopher! How did you know that?”
“I have an electronic brain—just like my dad!”
Mrs. Connor smiled. “Well, I guess you must.”
Christopher grinned as the class moved on to the next subject. Mrs. Connor still liked him. He was smart. He was happy with himself.
When the final bell rang that afternoon, Christopher quickly stuffed his homework into his backpack and ran for the door. He couldn’t wait to tell his mom that he had answered the hardest question. Maybe he would even call and tell Dad.
Mom was waiting just outside the kindergarten room. “Hurry, Son,” she called. “We need to get you to soccer practice.” Christopher had forgotten about practice, but he was eager to go. It was his first year playing soccer, and he was looking forward to his first game on Saturday.
“How was school?” Mom asked in the car.
“Great! Mrs. Connor asked me how many pennies were in five dollars, and I knew that the answer was five hundred.”
“That’s wonderful, Chris. How did you know that?”
Christopher shrugged. “I guess I’m just the smartest person there is—except for Dad.”
“Oh, Christopher.” Mom was using her worried voice. “That kind of attitude will get you in trouble. I’m glad you do well in school. You are very blessed, but that doesn’t mean you’re better than anyone else.” She stopped talking, seeing that he wasn’t really paying attention.
Christopher was thinking about Saturday’s game. He imagined himself powering past the other team, scoring goal after goal. He could almost hear the crowd cheering him on to victory.
Saturday morning, Christopher got up early and dressed in his soccer uniform—shin guards and all. The game was at 11:00, and he wanted to be ready. At 10:30 he was sitting in the car, water bottle in hand, wishing Mom and Dad would hurry.
“There’s my coach!” Christopher shouted as they neared the school yard. The grassy playground was divided into six small soccer fields. Christopher ran ahead to join his teammates as they took turns kicking the ball into the net. The excitement level was high.
The referee called the two teams to the center of the field for the coin toss. Christopher looked at the player across from him and was surprised to see Tony. “Hi, Tony!” he said. “I didn’t know you played soccer.”
“Oh, hi, Chris,” Tony answered, equally surprised.
Tony’s team won the coin toss and chose to kick off. Christopher was surprised to see Tony lining up to kick the ball. A team’s best player usually did that. At the signal, Tony nudged the ball gently, and one of his teammates kicked it back to him. Then Tony took over, dribbling the ball down the field and blasting a shot into the net. Christopher’s team tried to stop him but couldn’t. Just that fast, the score was one to nothing!
Christopher was amazed. Tony was the best soccer player he’d ever seen!
Now Christopher’s team got to kick off. Taylor, the best player on the team, ran and kicked the ball with all his might. Christopher ran along with Taylor, surprised at how different a game was from practice. In practice you could take your time, plan your passes, and move steadily down the field. In a game everything happened quickly. There was no time to stop and think. Christopher stayed with the mass of players kicking the ball back and forth, and managed a few good kicks. When the referee signaled the end of the first half, the score was five to one. Christopher’s team was losing.
Tony continued his stunning performance in the second half. Christopher did pretty well. He almost scored a goal, but the ball bounced off the goalpost. The final score was eight to two.
The two teams lined up to give each other high fives. Christopher stopped when he reached Tony. “Congratulations!” he said.
“Thanks.”
“You’re an awesome player. Where did you learn to play like that?”
“From my dad. He’s the greatest soccer player ever. He plays with me every night.”
“I wish I was as good as you,” Christopher said. “You scored more goals than my whole team!”
Tony smiled. He held his head high as they left the field.
Christopher was quiet on the ride home.
“What are you thinking about, Son?” Dad asked.
“About Tony,” Christopher answered. “He’s in my class at school, and he can’t answer math questions very well. I always thought he was, well, sort of dumb. But he plays soccer way better than I do, and I’m the smartest one in my class. How can that be?”
“Everyone is different, Chris,” Dad began. “We all have different talents. What’s important to remember is that we should always do our best. You may never be as good at soccer as Tony is, and he may never be as good at math as you are. But if you both try hard and do the best you can, both of your parents will be proud of you. We’re Heavenly Father’s children, and He doesn’t demand that we all be math whizzes or score ten goals. He only asks that we do the very best we can with the talents He’s given us.”
Christopher thought for a moment. “But what if our best isn’t good enough?”
“That’s the point, Son,” Dad explained. “Our best is always good enough.”

Then one Sunday when he was 16, he and his family were talking about football. Springville (Utah) High School had just won the state championship, and between his sophomore and junior years Eli had really begun to grow, gaining 80 pounds. Playing in college—and maybe after—was beginning to look like a real possibility.
As the family was talking about this exciting possibility, his mother commented, “You know, Eli, if you play professional football, you will have to play on the Sabbath.” Suddenly Eli knew that one day he might have to decide between keeping the Sabbath as his father had taught him and playing football.
Several universities recruited him to play for them when he finished his senior season. At this point, playing football first began to clash with doing what he knew he should. When he told recruiters he intended to go on a mission, two of the schools, Washington and Stanford, lost interest. But that didn’t deter him. More than once as he was growing up, his father had taken out his mission slides, and the family had watched as he told about his mission. Eli had always known that he, too, wanted to go on a mission, and he never questioned that decision.
Eli finally chose to attend BYU, and he played there his freshman year before leaving on a mission to Argentina. He came back two years later, stronger, faster, more coordinated, and even more ready to play football. He played his sophomore and junior seasons. He got married and took classes at the university. But always at the back of his mind, he knew that someday he might have to choose between playing football and keeping the Sabbath day holy.
Then, the summer before his senior season, the time suddenly came for Eli to make a decision. That summer USA Today published an article that ranked the top professional prospects among college football players. To his surprise, Eli found his name on the list. It dawned on him how much money he could be making playing football the next year, and he knew he had to make a decision.
It was not an easy one. Eli knew that something he had often dreamed of since elementary school was within reach. He considered all the things that he could do with the money he would make as a professional football player: he could put his children through school and pay for their missions; he could have a retirement fund; he could go on as many missions with his wife as he wanted; he could teach and coach and not have any financial worries. He would be set.
On the other hand, experiences he had had in his life told him things weren’t that simple. When he had arrived on his mission, one U.S. dollar was worth 15 Argentine australs. By the time he left, a dollar was worth about 10,000 australs. In less than two years, people who had been rich in Argentina were not rich anymore. From this Eli knew that he could not trust in money nor make his decision based solely on that.
On one hand there were good people who were active in the Church and who did a lot of good for the Church who played professional sports on Sunday. On the other hand, Eli had seen some very powerful examples of people who had refused to break the Sabbath.
One was Erroll Bennett, one of the top soccer players in Tahiti, whom Eli read about one day on his mission. When Brother Bennett joined the Church, he decided to withdraw from his team because he chose not to play on the Sabbath. When Eli read the story and saw how dedicated Brother Bennett was to the gospel, he was impressed. He says, “I knew I wanted to be a man like that, with that kind of commitment and dedication to what I knew was right.”
Eli discussed his choices with the people most important to him. His mother always reminded him of the commandment to keep the Sabbath day holy. His father, who had worked hard trying to support his family, told him to consider the decision carefully, reminding Eli how the money would help him support his wife and children. His wife, Jennifer, had received a paper in school full of quotations from leaders of the Church about the Sabbath day. Together they studied those and talked about the decision, but Jennifer and Eli’s parents all said that the decision was his and they would support him however he decided.
Eli talked to many other people. Some told him to play; some said maybe he shouldn’t. But Eli knew that talking to others wouldn’t make the decision for him. “When you’re considering giving up hundreds of thousands or millions of dollars,” he says, “it’s probably not something you’re going to do just because you’ve talked to someone.”
He knew that he would have to make the decision himself after praying to his Heavenly Father. Eli recalls: “It occurred to me to pray and fast about it because of what my parents taught me. … During the rest of the summer and through the next football season, all my scripture study and all my prayers and everything were focused on what the best decision would be. This lasted about six months. I didn’t make the final decision until the season was over at the end of December.”
That was an intense six months. Eli says: “I don’t think in my life other than sometimes on my mission I ever had the scriptures come to life for me as they did during that period of time. … I saw things I had never seen or understood before.”
One day, for example, he was reading in the Book of Mormon about Alma counseling his son Helaman. Alma urges his son: “O remember, remember, my son Helaman, how strict are the commandments of God. And he said: If ye will keep my commandments ye shall prosper in the land—but if ye keep not his commandments ye shall be cut off from his presence. … Therefore I command you, my son Helaman, that ye be diligent … in keeping the commandments of God as they are written” (Alma 37:13, 20).
The phrase “as they are written” particularly struck Eli. He knew the key to being in the Lord’s presence and to prospering was to keep the commandments “as they are written”—with exactness. Eli understood that to have financial security and other blessings for his family, “it was a more sure thing to keep the commandments and trust in the Lord than to have a million dollars.”
As the months progressed toward the end of the season, Eli became more sure of what he had to do. “I read my scriptures, and time after time I would see more and more and more reasons that I felt in my heart that I needed to observe the Sabbath more than I needed to play football,” Eli says.
When he finally made the decision, it was easy. He laughs now about all the attention he received: “I had been on the offensive line my whole career, and it’s not like a lineman gets a lot of recognition. I got so much more recognition for making that decision than I ever got for playing football. People wrote me, telling me what they thought about the decision I had made, good or bad. I never got so much mail in my life.”
Some people asked whether he had considered all the factors, and some asked if he had thought of all the money he could make. Eli laughs, “One of the most interesting things to me was that people would say, Haven’t you thought of this and this, when I had been thinking about it for ten years and had considered those things maybe a million and a half times.” The letters were entertaining, but they didn’t change his mind or cause him to reconsider. He had been very careful in making his decision, and once he made it he was firm.
Now Eli is doing what he has wanted to do for a long time—he is teaching and coaching in a local high school. Teachers aren’t famous for their high salaries, and sometimes the money is a little short. But Eli smiles about it: “The paychecks now, in spite of being low, are more than we were making when we were students. We’re happy to have more than we had before. Occasionally I think we could have a brand-new car or a nice house, but I have never had any serious doubts about the decision.”
He gathers his family around the room as he talks about the decision that has made such a difference in their lives. His daughter Hannah plays on the floor while his wife, Jennifer, holds the baby, Sarah. They don’t have the new house, car, and retirement fund, but they’re happy. Eli has come a long way from the boy who sometimes sneaked in to watch football on Sundays. Now he is a father who, like his own father and like Alma long ago, is determined to teach his children the commandments “as they are written” and to help them be covenant people of the Lord.

On top of my desk sits a bright blue beanbag. On each side is a yellow sun. The beanbag sits there to remind me of a personal miracle I call “Sunbeam love.”
It began with a call to teach Primary a few months after I returned to Church activity. My past struggles had led to renewed spiritual commitments, and I was eager to serve.
My first day teaching a group of Sunbeams convinced me I was far from ready. As I met the children, I was shocked at how far down I had to look to find the tops of their little heads. Their faces looked up at me apprehensively.
For an introduction I had planned a beanbag game—with an oversized beanbag I had made myself. With the first toss, I knew immediately I had overestimated the size of these children. The throw sent a wide-eyed girl sailing backwards as she bravely absorbed the bag’s impact.
At home that night, I pleaded with Heavenly Father for help. How do I relate to such tiny, tender beings? Suddenly my vision focused on a picture on my wall. It was a portrait of Jesus Christ holding a small child. I studied the expression of love depicted in Christ’s eyes. How much He must love children! How He desires to reassure them of His love! I then realized with perfect clarity that this was exactly what the Savior wanted me to do: to love them in a way that would reassure them of His love.
It was a simple answer. But to me, it seemed I had been asked to perform a miracle. Six painful years as a stepparent, followed by a divorce, had left my heart numb—especially to the idea of loving someone else’s children. Throughout the night I struggled to reconcile the conflict in my heart. It was only after hours of praying that the Spirit convinced me I could change.
From that Sunday forth, a personal miracle began to unfold. Each week during Primary, I was guided by the Spirit in the art of loving. And throughout the year, I was loved in return. There were excited waves across the chapel during sacrament meeting, shouted greetings from grocery store aisles, and gifts of oddly shaped cookies.
Panic set in as the year concluded and my glorious row of Sunbeams graduated. My heart ached wildly for my little friends. Feeling abandoned, I sat numbly, surrounded by eight tiny strangers.
Then came the introductory beanbag game. As I picked up the worn, oversized bag, I paused, remembering a similar Sunday a year before. How overwhelmed I had felt then! And how far I had come! The memories attending this familiar beanbag fueled me with hope. As I met each pair of bright eyes, I saw their pleading looks, “Please love me, too.”
And so I did.

Lydia sighed as she kicked a pebble, sending it bouncing along the concrete.
Her birthday was just a few days away. Usually she couldn’t wait for her birthday, but not this year. This year she was turning 12, and that meant graduating from Primary and going to Young Women.
But Lydia didn’t want to! She loved Primary. She loved sitting with her class, and she loved her teacher’s activities. Most of all, the Primary chorister made learning songs so much fun. In Young Women, she wouldn’t get to sing that much. All her friends were counting down to their 12th birthdays, but Lydia wasn’t ready.
Lydia found another little rock to kick. It skidded down the road ahead of her.
Why can’t I just be excited like everyone else? she thought. She had prayed to be happy and to know that going to Young Women would be a good change. But she didn’t really feel like she’d gotten an answer yet.
The pebble bounced into the grass. Lydia pushed it back onto the sidewalk with her toe.
“You just need to focus on the good things,” her friend Maya had told her at school today.
What good things? Lydia was trying to come up with some on her walk home. She liked being outdoors, and girls’ camp sounded fun. She also loved the temple. Her family had been visiting the temple grounds since Lydia was little. So … getting a temple recommend and doing temple baptisms … those were things to look forward to.
Lydia counted on her fingers: girls’ camp, the temple, baptisms. That made three good things. But still. She wasn’t ready to give up Primary!
She walked through the front door, sliding her jacket off her drooping shoulders.
“Is that you, Lydia?” Mom called as Lydia closed the door.
“Yeah, it’s me.” She tried to sound happy, but she was still feeling pretty discouraged.
Mom hurried into the room. “I have great news!” She’d worked on family history that afternoon. After hitting a couple of dead ends, she found a distant cousin who needed temple ordinances done.
“It was like magic!” Mom said. She and Lydia had been looking on FamilySearch for a long time without finding anyone who needed temple ordinances done. Mom moved over to the computer and pointed at the screen. “I kept looking in her family line, and you have to see the next person I found!”
Lydia rushed to the computer and read the name. “Lydia Elizabeth Graham. Mom, she has my name!”
Mom grinned. “I know! Plus her husband and siblings all need temple ordinances done. Isn’t it exciting that you’re turning 12 just in time to help another Lydia get baptized?”
Lydia felt so much more peaceful inside. Maybe this was an answer to her prayer. She could hardly wait to be baptized for Lydia!
She hugged Mom and smiled. “Maybe turning 12 isn’t so bad.”

The construction worker lay where he had fallen, precariously balanced on a plank nine inches (23 cm) wide and 100 feet (30 m) in the air. He had been struck by a falling steel beam that had partially severed his left arm and leg.
In this case, the victim could not be moved safely until his injuries were assessed. I was hoisted up by crane on a metal cargo platform. Once I reached the victim, a construction worker held onto the back of my reflective jacket, serving as a human “crane” to allow me freedom of movement to examine the victim.
In situations like this, years of training take over, so I began to assess the man’s injuries. On his knee was an emergency field dressing placed there by the construction crew’s own first aid responder. Normally I would examine the injury to assess the damage since that is the protocol we are trained to follow.
But as I reached out, the Spirit prompted me: “Do not move the dressing.” So I did not touch it. Three more times during the incident, I was encouraged by others involved—the first responder, my colleague on the ground, and a doctor—to examine the knee wound, and three more times, the Spirit prompted me not to touch the dressing. Once we had stabilized the patient, we lifted the man onto the cargo platform, we were both lowered to the ground, and we transported him to the hospital.
In the emergency resuscitation area, the trauma team waited for us. One doctor quickly removed the field dressing from the knee. Immediately an artery ruptured, and the patient began bleeding profusely. In the controlled environment of the hospital, this life-threatening situation was quickly resolved. If it had happened on the plank 100 feet up, the victim may well not have survived.

“Come on, Jodi! It’s only one soccer match! God isn’t going to hate you for playing just this once on Sunday.”
“That’s right,” thought Jodi Allen, a seventeen-year-old from Sandy, Utah, and the best goalkeeper on her championship soccer team. “It is only one soccer match.” But to play in it would break a personal promise she’d made to Heavenly Father years before.
But how could she explain that to the teammates who were pressuring her to play? As a team, they had worked hard all season, winning the Utah state championship and traveling to the regional tournament in San Francisco, California, to compete against other winning teams from throughout the western United States. They had successfully played a couple of tournament matches and now had the opportunity to play a team that had beaten them the previous year. Jodi’s team wanted revenge, and a win for the team would place them in the regional finals.
But the game was scheduled for Sunday.
“Oh Jodi! Who do you think you are? Some of us are members of the Church too, and we’re playing on Sunday. Do you think you’re better than we are?”
So there was never a question about playing on Sunday—not even in this tournament. But making her teammates understand was another story.
“Look,” she tried to explain, “if I don’t play on Sunday, I’ll disappoint my team, and I feel bad about that. But if I do play on Sunday, I’ll disappoint so many more. I’ll disappoint myself, because I’d be breaking a promise. I’d disappoint my parents, who know how important that promise is to me. I’d disappoint my cousins, who don’t play on Sunday because of my example, and I’d disappoint my seminary teachers, who have taught me better. But most important of all, I’d disappoint God. I just can’t do that.”
It was a great explanation, but it didn’t do Jodi much good. All Saturday night the team tried to convince her to play. They made fun of her. They called her every name they could think of. Finally, at about midnight, Jodi telephoned home in tears. It wasn’t that she was tempted to give in. It’s just that she felt so alone.
Her parents listened. Her parents understood. Both her mother and father got on the telephone and had a prayer with her. After they hung up, they called an old friend in the San Francisco area and asked her to give Jodi some support.
The next morning Jodi got up and got dressed—in a dress, which she wore as she stood on the sidelines watching her team play. The final score was one-to-one. After the game, many of her teammates apologized for being so critical of her.
The team took third place overall in the tournament, which was better than they’d ever done before. Jodi thought this would be a highlight on which to end her soccer career.

There’s a certain surfer in southern California who’s giving the sport a loftier reputation. His name is Jimmy Zimmerman, and it’s well known that this surf team captain is an active priest in the Huntington Beach Fourth Ward.
Jimmy’s coach, quoted in the Los Angeles Times, said that “Zimmerman symbolizes surfing’s future. He’s popular, intelligent, and he’s a young man who doesn’t drink alcohol or smoke.”
Jimmy manages to fit in surf practice every morning at 6:15, after early-morning seminary. But that doesn’t make him too tired to get top grades in honors classes, be elected Homecoming king, and to teach the gospel to his friends. He recently had the privilege of baptizing one of them.

Once again, Relief Society can help. Sister Elsa Bluhm, who is 102, knew the gospel was true. She loved the Lord. She met a good man and married him. He was from Germany, and he was not a member of the Church. Her husband had never been taught to pray. When Elsa knelt beside the bed each night, she would take his hand in hers and pray. After many years he joined the Church, and they were sealed in the temple. Before his passing, Brother Bluhm became an instrument in the hands of God by researching his German ancestors.

This happy ending began with one woman’s insistent, loving, righteous example. Elsa invited the Spirit into their home and marriage by loving her husband and loving the Lord. She was both faithful and filled with faith, even when at times she felt alone. She was an instrument in the hands of God in her own home.

This sister who helped us—we call her our “Sister Miracle” now—invited us to her home, wanting to know more of our family’s story. Our two families enjoyed talking over waffles about missions, temple work, family history, and all our blessings from Heavenly Father.
As the evening ended, Sister Miracle asked for a priesthood blessing of comfort as she had just been diagnosed with aggressive cancer and was preparing for chemotherapy, surgery and radiation.
Together with her husband, I pronounced a blessing that her life would not be cut short, that she would see her children serve missions, and enjoy watching her grandchildren grow up.
Later, Sister Miracle shared with me about our visit:
“It was a tender mercy from the Lord, knowing that He was aware of me and my new trial with cancer. My faith was strengthened in Jesus Christ. I am blessed to have had this experience with my new friends from New Caledonia.”
She continued to share what she is learning:
“We all experience different trials and challenges in our lives. I am choosing to center my life on Jesus Christ and keep my covenants with Him. I have confidence that He will bless me in His perfect way. I often use the phrase ‘but if not’ in my prayers. I ask for healing and strength, but if I am not cured from cancer, I trust that He will bless me in His perfect way. I have confidence that He will provide miracles as well as little tender mercies along the way; to help me know He is aware of me.
“This message from Elder Soares explains how I feel: ‘I know that when the Lord sees even a spark of desire or a flicker of righteous effort in our willingness to center our lives on Him and on the ordinances and covenants, we make in His house, He will bless us, in His perfect way, with the miracles and tender mercies we need.’”
From the day of our first visit, we prayed for Sister Miracle. Treatments became more complicated, and her white blood cell count was often too low to continue chemotherapy at the same pace. Even with these complications, I had faith and trusted the Lord for her recovery.
Seven months later, Sister Miracle and her husband called me on my way to work. Through video chat, they explained the post-surgery results, after the cancer growth had been removed. Miraculously, the doctors found no cancer cells in that tissue. Words could not describe my joy and tears over this new miracle!

Let me give you an example.
After President Wilford Woodruff joined the Church he desired to serve a mission.
“I was but a Teacher,” he wrote, “and it is not a Teacher’s office to go abroad and preach. I dared not tell any of the authorities of the Church that I wanted to preach, lest they might think I was seeking for an office.”1
He prayed to the Lord, and without disclosing his desire to any others, he was ordained a priest and sent on a mission. He and his companion went to the Arkansas Territory.
They struggled through 100 miles of alligator-infested swamps, wet, muddy, and tired. Brother Woodruff developed a sharp pain in his knee and could go no further. His companion left him sitting on a log and went home. Brother Woodruff knelt down in the mud and prayed for help. He was healed and continued his mission alone.
Three days later he arrived in Memphis, Tennessee, weary, hungry, and very muddy. He went to the largest inn and asked for something to eat and for a place to sleep, although he had no money to pay for either.
When the innkeeper found he was a preacher, he laughed and decided to have some fun with him. He offered Brother Woodruff a meal if he would preach to his friends.
A large audience of the rich and fashionable people of Memphis gathered and were quite amused by this mud-stained missionary.
None would sing or pray, so Brother Woodruff did both. He knelt before them and begged the Lord to give him His Spirit and to show him the hearts of the people. And the Spirit came! Brother Woodruff preached with great power. He was able to reveal the secret deeds of those who came to ridicule him.
When he was finished, no one laughed at this humble holder of the Aaronic Priesthood. Thereafter he was treated with kindness.2
He was under the guiding, protecting power of his Aaronic Priesthood. The same power can be with you as well.

It was the kind of hot summer Saturday that makes you want to drop everything and head to the beach. My buddies and I, about to begin our last year of high school, decided to do just that. We packed ourselves into an old, blue pickup, cracked the windows and cranked the radio, and began the two-hour drive to the California coast.
As we neared our destination, I asked my friend to pull over at a sporting goods shop so I could buy a swimsuit. The woman at the register scanned the price tag of the suit I had picked out as I reached for my credit card. I didn’t even have to look at my wallet to find it; my fingers, from habit, knew exactly where to go. I handed it over and the woman swiped it.
“It says, ‘Insufficient funds’,” she told me, tapping a finger on the countertop. “Got any cash?”
Surprised and embarrassed, I mumbled a “hold on a minute” and went back out to the car. “Hey, something’s wrong with my card. Can someone spot me twenty?” One of my friends did, I went inside and paid, and we continued on our way.
Everyone else had a good time at the beach that afternoon, but for me the trip was spoiled. How had I maxed out a couple-thousand-dollar line of credit? I had a part-time job, but I didn’t make nearly enough to be racking up that kind of a bill. I couldn’t think of any major purchases I had made recently. How had this happened?
Like a lot of teens, I got my first job when I was 16. The paycheck I earned from cleaning tennis courts was nothing to brag about, but I was excited to have some personal income. Because my parents covered a lot of my expenses (they bought a used car for me and my brother to share, and even paid for gas and insurance), the money from my job left over after tithing became spending money. I would spend hours after school at music stores, picking out albums by my favorite bands. An avid reader, I loved going to bookstores and would rarely leave one without a stack of novels tucked under my arm. I bought clothes and DVDs, concert tickets and guitar accessories. I loved to eat out with friends, sometimes almost every day of the week. Having money to do these things made me feel more mature and independent.
When I first started my job, my parents helped me open checking and savings accounts. I signed up for a credit card also. Though I didn’t plan to use it regularly, my parents and I thought it would be helpful to have in case of an emergency. It was more convenient to carry around a couple of cards in my wallet instead of cash and cumbersome spare change, so I switched to plastic. No more counting out bills and coins at check stands; all I had to do was key in a PIN number or show my ID and presto. I hardly had to think at all.
But not having to think much turned out not to be such a good thing. It was so easy to spend money that I began to spend more and more. Online shopping was getting popular at the time, and with a few clicks of the mouse on our home computer, I could have almost anything arrive at my door in two days. With digital music stores beginning to spring up on the Internet, buying music no longer required driving to the store or waiting for a package to arrive in the mail. All I had to do was click the “Purchase Now” button and I could be listening to a new album instantly.
Of course, there was nothing wrong with spending some of the money I earned on music or dinner with friends. But as my spending habits got worse, I began to spend money that I didn’t really even have. Several times I overdrew my checking account and had to pay a fine. My parents encouraged me to slow down my spending and work out a budget, but I didn’t take their advice seriously. Instead, if I didn’t have enough money in the bank, I began to charge purchases to my credit card and say to myself, “I’ll pay it off in a few days when my paycheck arrives. No big deal.”
It was a bigger deal than I thought. A few days turned into a few weeks, then a few weeks into months. It wasn’t long before I had empty checking and savings accounts, mounting debt, and a credit card bill that I couldn’t handle. I was stuck.
I wish I could say that was when I learned my lesson and turned things around—that I stopped overspending, paid my debts, and became wiser about handling finances. In fact, I was able to pay off my credit card debt, with plenty of help from my parents. For a while I was more responsible with my spending. But only for a while.
Having my parents bail me out, I later realized, gave me an unhealthy sense of security. Though I told myself that I needed to change my spending habits, I also felt that if I did mess up again, there would a safety net to rescue me, just as there had been the first time. And so I soon fell back into my old habits. I wasn’t making large purchases, but I never hesitated to shell out a few dollars here, a little more there—either with my checking card or with my credit card. It depressed me to know how much I spent, so I stopped checking my balances altogether. I got a raise and more hours at work and convinced myself that I was probably doing OK. After all, I wasn’t going out and spending hundreds of dollars at a time.
My experience that summer day at the sporting goods store was an unpleasant awakening. Those smaller purchases had added up, and I found myself in an even bigger mess than before.
A few years later, as I’m about to graduate from college, I think of Alma’s admonition to “learn wisdom in thy youth” (see Alma 37:35). Even though I’m on a better track now, I still wonder how much money I could have saved for a mission, college, or marriage had I learned financial wisdom when I was younger—and how many headaches I could have saved myself.
I finally figured out that buying lots of things and being overindulgent won’t make you happy, and that learning to live within your means makes all the difference. It has for me. I just wish I had figured that out sooner.