Gospel Story Finder

Meet Dorcas Asamoah Danso, a determined young single adult from the Ofankor Stake Gathering Place whose journey from student to entrepreneur is as inspiring as it is beautiful.
It began when she enrolled in a beauty class at the Gathering Place—a decision that would change her life. At first, it was anything but easy. “Shaping eyebrows was the hardest part,” she recalled. “It didn’t feel natural, but my instructor’s encouragement and consistent practice helped me push through.”
Determined to make the most of what she was learning, Dorcas began setting aside money to invest in her own beauty supplies. She didn’t wait for perfection—she got to work. After sharing a simple video on Facebook with before-and-after photos of her makeup transformation, Dorcas caught the attention of her peers. To build her client base, she boldly offered a free trial—and the results spoke for themselves. Her friends not only loved their makeovers but also became her biggest advocates, helping her turn her passion into a growing business.
Dorcas continues to visit the Gathering Place to sharpen her skills and stay connected to a supportive community. “My journey required humility,” she said. “I had to accept correction, stay open-minded, and be willing to sacrifice to reach my goals.”
Today, Dorcas is grateful—for the Lord’s guidance, for her leaders and fellow YSAs, and for the path that helped her discover her potential. Her experience has brought her not just success but confidence, joy, and a deeper sense of self-worth.

We found a house across the street from one Protestant church and a block from another, but we lived 45 minutes from the nearest LDS meetinghouse. Every Sunday, as well as a couple of times during the week, we made the trek to our meetinghouse. During those seven years, my husband served in the bishopric, and I served as Primary president and then as Young Women president.
We knew that the social life and heartbeat of small towns exist in the local churches. To be accepted, we knew we had to get involved. Our three young children soon bonded with other ward children, but we also wanted them to feel a sense of belonging to our neighborhood. We encouraged them to become involved during the week in local church activities, including family suppers on Wednesday nights at one church.
We put our son and our girls in local youth programs. Our children also attended Vacation Bible School at both nearby churches. Our girls sang in a local church youth choir; one daughter even became a soloist in the choir. Our son attended a local church youth group.
Often a visiting revival minister preached against the “Mormons,” but our neighbors knew we were nothing like the people the preachers warned them about.
Every summer the regional churches of one Protestant sect sponsored a youth camp on St. Simons Island, Georgia. After one such camp, the minister said from the pulpit, “The only youth to go to camp this summer was our good little Mormon girl, Kelly Grant.”
Our Protestant neighbors embraced us because we had embraced them. We never had to compromise our standards or principles.

In Romania I met Raluca, a 17-year-old young woman who had recently joined the Church. Her baptism was a happy event because, among other things, her whole family attended. Her mother and sister felt the Spirit there and wanted to have the missionary discussions too. This concerned the father, for he felt he was losing all of his family to this unfamiliar church. So he did not allow it, and for a time there was a feeling of discord in their family. However, Raluca remembered that she had made a baptismal covenant to take upon her the name of Jesus Christ. She tried to hold up His light by doing in her home the things He would do. She was a peacemaker. She was an example. She was a teacher. She was a healer.

Eventually her father’s heart softened, and he allowed the others to learn more about the Church. Then they too were baptized. And finally, much to everyone’s joy, the father of the family also joined the Church. At his baptism he spoke and said that for a time their family had been as two hearts beating at a different rhythm in the same household. But now they were of one faith and one baptism, with their hearts knit together in unity and love. He gave thanks to the missionaries and members who had helped them. Then he paid a special tribute to his daughter Raluca for being so Christlike in their home during that difficult period, for being the peacemaker, the healer, the teacher, the example, and the light that eventually brought their entire family to the Church of Jesus Christ.

My family used to live in a large city on the east coast of the United States. While we lived there, I had the opportunity to perform in the Nutcracker Ballet. It was exciting, magical, and a dream come true, since I have taken dance lessons from the age of three.
In hopes of recreating the magic, I auditioned again for the Nutcracker in my new town. One week later, the new director of the ballet company called our home to offer me a part in the first act. However, because of a new company policy, rehearsals would take place every Sunday for the next three months.
My mom explained to the director that this would be a conflict with our religion, but she would present the choice to me and let me make the decision whether I would dance or not. The director then gave this charge: “Abby needs to choose what is most important to her.”
This was a hard choice for me as I looked at the pros and cons of accepting this part. I loved ballet with a passion, but I also knew what was right. I had learned a long time ago that the Savior taught what is right and what is wrong, and that it is left up to me to choose the good part. So I declined the invitation to dance in that year’s Nutcracker.
The next day was our Children’s Sacrament Meeting Presentation. The theme was “Choose the Right.” The main scripture our leaders chose to use was “Choose you this day whom ye will serve; … but as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord” (Josh. 24:15). My mom and dad sat in the congregation, watching me while I sang with the Primary chorus these words: “Choose the right in all labors you’re pursuing; Let God and Heaven be your goal” (Hymns, no. 239).

I’ve always been a curious person.
Growing up, I had big questions about how the earth was created, how human life was formed, and why we’re on this planet. When I learned about and accepted the gospel of Jesus Christ at age 14, I found so many answers and greater meaning for my life. I did my best to keep God’s commandments and felt real joy living the gospel.
I continued progressing in many exciting ways—I served a mission, attended university, and more. But as I approached age 30, I became discouraged that I hadn’t had the opportunity to get married. Although I saw many people around me choose to live contrary to the law of chastity, I was firm in my commitment to keep my covenants and prepare for a temple marriage.
I believed that happiness comes from obedience (see Mosiah 2:41). But as I looked around at my friends who chose not to keep the law of chastity, they seemed happier than me. They were having new experiences with dating and relationships, and I felt a sense of unfairness. As a curious and well-educated person, I was frustrated that my friends now seemed wiser and more mature than me.
The commandments began to feel less like a blessing and more like a roadblock keeping me from living my best life.
I was tempted to walk away from the idea of a temple marriage and a gospel-centered life after a while. The law of chastity just felt too hard to keep when I was surrounded by a world that didn’t view physical intimacy the same way I did.
When I was struggling the most, my institute teacher shared a story about having the missionaries over for dinner. He shared how his whole family prepared for and participated in the spiritual thought the missionaries shared.
In that moment, I realized that more than anything, I wanted to raise a family that could enjoy the blessings of the gospel all together.
It all clicked. The law of chastity wasn’t a roadblock keeping me from experiencing the gift of sexuality—it was a blessing keeping me pointed toward the temple and my eternal family.
Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles taught: “Is it wrong to have rules? Of course not. We all need them every day. But it is wrong to focus only on rules instead of focusing on the Savior. You need to know the whys and the hows and then consider the consequences of your choices.”
When I remembered the Savior and His sacrifice for me, I decided that the blessings of keeping my covenants, including the law of chastity and being married in the temple, would be worth the wait. True happiness isn’t about doing whatever you want. It’s about being worthy to have the companionship of the Holy Ghost.
There can be other instances when we feel tempted to break our covenants. Living the gospel isn’t always easy! But the covenants we make and the commandments we keep were put in place by a loving Heavenly Father who has our best interests at heart. We can trust that He knows so much more than we do and that following Him over the world will always lead us to joy.
I feel grateful that I recently fell in love and was married in the temple. I’m glad I was dedicated to the commandments so I can now enjoy the blessings of eternal marriage.

A short family history story illustrates this counsel.

Several months ago I read the testimony of my great-grandfather’s sister Elizabeth Staheli Walker. As a child, Elizabeth immigrated to America from Switzerland with her family.

After Elizabeth married, she and her husband and children lived in Utah near the Nevada border, where they ran a mail station. Their home was a stopping place for travelers. All day and all night they had to be ready to cook and serve meals for travelers. It was hard, exhausting work, and they had little rest. But the greatest thing that concerned Elizabeth was the conversation of the people they associated with.

Elizabeth said that up to this time she had always taken for granted that the Book of Mormon was true, that the Prophet Joseph Smith had been authorized of God to do what he did, and that his message was the plan of life and salvation. But the life she was experiencing was anything but what would strengthen such a belief.

Some of the travelers who stopped were well-read, educated, smart men, and always the talk around her table was that Joseph Smith was “a sly fraud” who had written the Book of Mormon himself and then distributed it to make money. They acted as if to think anything else was absurd, claiming “that Mormonism was bunk.”

All this talk made Elizabeth feel isolated and alone. There was no one to talk to, no time to even say her prayers—although she did pray as she worked. She was too frightened to say anything to those who ridiculed her religion. She said she didn’t know but what they were telling the truth, and she felt she could not have defended her belief if she had tried.

Later, Elizabeth and her family moved. Elizabeth said she had more time to think and was not so distracted all the time. She often went down in the cellar and prayed to Heavenly Father about what was troubling her—about the stories those seemingly smart men had told about the gospel being bunk and about Joseph Smith and the Book of Mormon.

One night Elizabeth had a dream. She said: “It seemed I was standing by a narrow wagon road, which led around by the foot of a low rolling hill; halfway up the hill I saw a man looking down and speaking, or seemed to be speaking, to a young man who was kneeling and leaning over a hole in the earth. His arms were stretched out, and it looked as if he was reaching for something from in the hole. I could see the lid of stone that seemed to have been taken off from the hole over which the boy was bending. On the road were many people, but none of them seemed to be at all interested in the two men on the hillside. There was something that came along with the dream that impressed me so strangely that I woke right up; … I could not tell my dream to anyone, but I seemed to be satisfied that it meant the angel Moroni [instructed] the boy Joseph at the time he got the plates.”

In the spring of 1893, Elizabeth went to Salt Lake City to the dedication of the temple. She described her experience: “In there I saw the same picture [that] I had seen in my dream; I think it was [a] colored-glass window. I feel satisfied that if I saw the Hill Cumorah itself, it would not look more real. I feel satisfied that I was shown in a dream a picture of the angel Moroni giving Joseph Smith the [gold] plates.”

Many years after having this dream and several months before she died at nearly age 88, Elizabeth received a powerful impression. She said, “The thought came to me as plain … as if someone had said to me, … ‘Do not bury your testimony in the ground.’”

Generations later, Elizabeth’s posterity continues to draw strength from her testimony. Like Elizabeth, we live in a world of many doubters and critics who ridicule and oppose the truths we hold dear. We may hear confusing stories and conflicting messages. Also like Elizabeth, we will have to do our best to hold on to whatever light and truth we currently have, especially in difficult circumstances. The answers to our prayers may not come dramatically, but we must find quiet moments to seek greater light and truth. And when we receive it, it is our responsibility to live it, to share it, and to defend it.

I used to fight a lot with my parents too. But then I started just talking to them. When bad things happened to me, I realized that they are always there for me. Now we have a close relationship, and although we still fight sometimes, it’s gotten to be less and less. You’ll learn to love and understand your parents and realize that they know a lot more than you think.Cassidy Kremin, 16Papillion, Nebraska

I am currently serving as a missionary. Four years ago I was an inactive college student. I would like to share an experience from then and now with you. One day in college I was in the LDS institute of religion just seething with rebellion. I picked up a copy of the New Era, glanced through it, and discarded it as having no relevance to me. Boy, was I ever wrong! Just the other day in an old stack of New Eras I found the exact same issue. Out of curiosity I sat down to read it. Amazingly, I found an article that really helped me find an answer to a problem I wondered about. In fact, I read the whole magazine and found it fascinating. The gospel changes lives, and I’m grateful for it.
Elder Robin WilliamsIowa Des Moines Mission

Let me tell you of how He did it for one boy who now holds the office of priest in the Aaronic Priesthood. He is 16 years old. He lives in a country where the missionaries first arrived just a year ago. They were assigned to two cities but not to the city where the boy lives.

When he was very young, his parents brought him to Utah for safety. The family was taught and baptized by the missionaries. He was not baptized into the Church because he was not yet eight years of age.

His parents were killed in an accident. So his grandmother had him return to his home, across the ocean, back to the city where he had been born.

He was walking on the street in March just a year ago when he felt that he should speak to a woman he did not know. He spoke with her in the English he still remembered. She was a nurse sent by the mission president to his city to look for housing and medical care for the missionaries who would be assigned there soon. He and she became friends as they talked. When she got back to the mission headquarters, she told the missionaries about him.

The first two elders arrived in September of 2012. The orphan boy was their first baptism into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. By March of this year he had been a member for four months. He had been ordained a priest in the Aaronic Priesthood and so could baptize the second convert to the Church. He was the first priesthood pioneer to gather other children of Heavenly Father with him to establish the Church in a city of approximately 130,000 people.

On Easter Sunday, March 31, 2013, the Church membership there had grown to the huge number of six members in that city. He was the only local member who attended the meeting that Sunday. His knee had been injured the day before, but he was determined to be there. He had prayed that he would be able to walk to church. And so he was there. He shared the sacrament with four young elders and a missionary couple—the total congregation.

I have a plastic star decoration in my room that I brought home from my mission. I love how it looks when it lights up. This little star hangs on a wall so I can see it every night as I go to sleep and first thing when I wake up.
Recently I noticed that my star wasn’t attached to the wall as securely as it normally was, but I didn’t give it much thought. I was confident that the single piece of tape holding it to the wall would stick.
Then one morning my star wasn’t there—it had fallen. I decided to resecure the star with more tape. This time I used five pieces—one piece for each point of the star—to make sure it wouldn’t fall again.
That’s when I realized that my little glowing star is like each of us, and the tape holding it could represent our spiritual habits. The light we have within us is entirely dependent upon the things we do to strengthen, or secure, our testimonies. Every piece of tape I put on the star reminded me of Alma 37:6: “By small and simple things are great things brought to pass.”
I also thought about how I had noticed that my star was about to fall for several days, but I did nothing to save it until it did fall. And it’s the same with our testimonies—if we become complacent and forget to do the small, spiritual practices that can help keep our faith strong, our testimonies can weaken.

One last Marriott Center experience began with Jill and me, poor as church mice, collecting toilet paper rolls underneath the seats after a game we played here—you know, the games when after the first basket is made everyone throws a roll of toilet paper streaming down onto the court? (Don’t do that here, okay?)

We were living on the tightest of budgets. Saving a little money by gathering the toilet paper seemed like a great idea. With this third Marriott Center image as a backdrop, I want to tell you the rest of the story that highlights forever in my heart the Savior’s words “Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you.”

Right before graduation, I had a great job interview. Arriving home, I excitedly told Jill that I thought I would get the job.

A week went by, and I had not heard a word. Jill asked if I still felt good about it, and I responded that I did.

Then another week passed with no word. Jill asked again how I felt.

With less optimism, I said, “I will call and see.”

Unfortunately, the company had gone with someone else.

I then saw a look in her eye that I had never seen before. She seemed nervous and tentative. I asked her if something was wrong.

She said timidly, “When you came home a couple of weeks ago and said you thought we would get the job, I wrote a tithing check on the amount of money we would be receiving in the new job to thank Heavenly Father beforehand. I am so sorry.”

Two things passed through my mind in that moment. First, I realized that she had paid about half our monthly income—but, you know, we all love eating ramen the second half of the month! Then a second thought came as I looked into the eyes of this purest of souls. This thought was, “God will always watch over and take care of you and your family because of Jill’s pure and unshakable faith.”

I knew in that moment that we—the couple who had scavenged under the Marriott Center seats for toilet paper rolls—would always be all right. I knew that God would bless her “even an hundred fold, yea, more,”40 for having offered her loaves and fishes41 unto Him first. It brings tears to my eyes just thinking about this sacred moment and about this most faithful daughter of God.

I want to share with you one precious experience that has affected my life and opened the eyes of my understanding. As a businessman I was responsible for the sales of a group of clients, and I was constantly challenged to maintain a good relationship for selling in spite of not participating in popular habits like drinking alcohol, smoking, or telling improper jokes, things which the Spirit did not allow me to do. One day while I was working in my office in. Dortmund, Germany, I received a telephone call from one of my clients. He was calling me from Paris, France. His company had an exhibition there, and he invited me to come and visit him and talk about more business. I was immediately warned and alarmed by the Spirit that his real reason for inviting me to Paris, besides talking about business, was to find someone who would pay his pleasure bills in that expensive city. I was honored by the opportunity for more business, but scared by the expectation of the uneasy decisions that lay ahead of me. I knew that I had to go because this was my obligation as a salesman. I took the night train to Paris, traveling with a serious, constant prayer in my heart, a prayer that I would have the power to be successful without compromising my standards.
My friend picked me up in the early afternoon at the train station in Paris. I immediately discovered that he was not in the mood to talk about business, but that he wanted to show the city and its amusements to me, a total stranger unable to speak French. I intensified my prayer to my Father in Heaven, and he gave me a spirit of comfort, and even happiness and joy. I told my friend how happy I was to see him, and that I had to take the early night train back in order to meet some important responsibilities at home. He looked at me, smiling, and said, “No, no, you will stay with me until tomorrow. We have many important matters to discuss, and I will show you the city in privacy. No one will see you, and I will not tell anybody. Today we will enjoy life.”
I knew that his understanding of the enjoyment of life was totally different from mine, yet I also knew that his company’s business was vital for the survival of our company. So I prayed harder, pleading for help. Finally he invited me to a nice little restaurant, wanting to show me the places that only the knowing know. The Spirit said that there was nothing wrong with having dinner with him, so I agreed, and we started one of those long-lasting, expensive French meals. He ordered for both of us because he spoke fluent French, and he ordered two bottles of wine in spite of my strong protest that he not order wine for me.
The conversation was good, his bottle was emptied; mine remained untouched. Finally he became aware of this, took the bottle and filled my glass and his glass. He took his glass in his right hand, looked into my eyes, and said, “My dear friend, you know how much I enjoy your company and the standard you keep, but now you will drink this one glass to my health. If you don’t you will not receive one more piece of business from me.”
I felt my blood freeze inside of me. It came to my mind, “Brother Busche, now you have to make a decision!” All kinds of rationalizations came creeping into my heart. But before I could say anything, I was overtaken by a power that filled me with great joy and light. To my surprise, I found myself putting my right arm around him. This Spirit made me say something that I would never have been able to think of myself, something that changed the situation totally. I heard myself say, “Mr. So-and-so, you know that I know you better than that. I know that you would never make a logical business decision and have it based on such illogical conditions.” I gave him a big hug, and smiled in his eyes with a deep feeling of love and friendship. This surprised him for a moment, and he was unable to speak. Then his eyes began to fill with tears. He hugged me back, and began to speak. They were words of apology. He wept and said, “I want you to forgive me. If you had drunk this glass of wine, I would have made a fool out of you tonight. I wanted to destroy you, but now you will be my friend forever. Don’t worry anymore. Right after this meal I will take you personally to the station so that you can get your train on time. You will also receive all the business from me that you want and are capable of handling.”
And so it went. When I was in the little sleeping compartment on the night train back home, I cried for joy and happiness and praised the Lord for his help at the right time and in the right way.

When Lawrence was 13 we were expecting our seventh child, and again I was concerned for my wife’s well-being. I tried not to alarm my family. However, I had told Lawrence about some of the difficulties connected with his birth, and this affected him greatly.
When I took Merlene to the hospital I told the family I would call them and let them know how their mother was and whether they had a little brother or sister. After Paul was born, I called home and Lawrence answered. I told him the good news and said I would be home in a little while. When I went home I told them all about their new baby brother and that their mother was doing well. That evening as I left the house to go to the hospital, Lawrence handed me a letter to give to his mother. When I arrived, I gave her a kiss, then handed her the letter. Her eyes moistened as she read it; then she handed it to me. It said:
“To my favorite and most loved Mother. Congratulations. When Dad phoned us and told us we had a little brother I just about freaked. After you left to go to the hospital I went in Dad’s den and knelt down to have prayer to ask Heavenly Father to bless you that you would be all right. Well my prayer was answered. After Dad came home he told how just before the baby was born you gritted your teeth and tears flowed down your cheeks but you wouldn’t cry out. I kind of got this unstuckable lump in my throat.
“I’m working on my hiking merit badge.
“Love, Lawrence”

Teaching English in Wuhan, China, was an amazing experience. I had always wanted to go somewhere and do something service oriented, and this was the perfect opportunity. I was part of a volunteer program organized by a college professor. I found that I loved teaching. Even more, I loved getting to know the students, the Chinese teachers, and the other volunteers. But one thing was tough for me.

We signed contracts as we joined the program stating that we couldn’t say anything about religion. If we did we would be sent home. I spent a lot of time thinking about that. I cared a lot about these people. They were my friends now, and they didn’t have the gospel. But I kept my promise.

When I returned to Brigham Young University, however, I found myself thinking that although I had given service, I still had more I wanted to give. I kept thinking how much I would like to teach people the gospel so they could know what I know. I spent a whole semester thinking about applying to serve a full-time mission. I have always wanted to serve, but I needed to know that’s what the Lord wanted me to do.

I received good advice from my brother and my two brothers-in-law, just by speaking with them about their own mission experiences that were so life-changing. And I talked with my dad, because not only is he my dad, but he’s also my home-ward bishop. No one ever made me feel pressured or pushed. They just encouraged me to listen to the Spirit and do what was right.

I fasted. I prayed. I searched my soul. And I listened to general conference. When I heard Elder Richard G. Scott of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles give his address, “Now Is the Time to Serve a Mission!” it seemed that the Lord was speaking directly to me through him. (See Ensign, May 2006, 87.)

I made the decision to submit my application. I was excited, but I was also a little scared. I think much of the anxiety came from not knowing where I was going to go. My father called me several times up at school, giving me words of encouragement. I think my experience was bringing back memories of his mission, and he had a lot of neat experiences to share.

Even though I was at school, I asked for my call to be sent to my parents’ home in Tempe, Arizona. When the envelope arrived, my dad set up a conference call, so there was my family in Tempe, Tucson, and Mesa. We all sang the hymn “I’ll Go Where You Want Me to Go,” and I was definitely wondering where that would be. But as soon as my mom read I was going to Asunción, Paraguay, I felt an overwhelming peace and comfort. I haven’t had a moment’s worry since. I know that’s where the Lord wants me to go, 100 percent. And this time as I go to serve, I don’t have to worry—I can talk about the gospel with everyone I meet.

“That’s about it for announcements and assignments. Oh, but I would like to see Greg and Tom Glenn after class, if you boys wouldn’t mind.”
“Uh oh,” I thought to myself as I poked my brother in the side and let out a nervous laugh. Trouble was waiting for us, for sure. I suddenly became very pious, bowing my head, folding my arms, and hoping that the closing prayer would go on forever.
We knew all too well what Brother Reed wanted to see us about. Tom and I hadn’t been on time to priesthood meeting for weeks. Sometimes we didn’t come at all, and sometimes we sneaked silently through the door and slipped into the back row at the very last minute, just in time to get our sacrament passing assignments and leave.
Now, it wasn’t that we were sleeping in or fooling around at home. On the contrary. We were wide awake every morning at 4:30 to do the chores on the dairy farm where we lived. Dad had recently had a heart attack, so it was up to Tom and me to milk the cows and clean the place, and do all the other dairy work. We had the cows on a fixed schedule which easily got us to school during the week for 8:30 classes; but on Sundays, finishing everything, then showering and dressing for priesthood at 7:30 was rough. It was an awful lot of work, and we thought we were doing pretty well to make it to priesthood at all.
Evidently, though, our priests quorum adviser didn’t think so. After everyone else filed out of the room, Brother Reed pulled a chair up close, so he was only about a foot or two away from us. Although he didn’t touch us, we could sure feel him, sitting so near.
“Boys,” he said in a surprisingly gentle tone, “there’s really something missing from the quorum when you’re absent. What am I doing wrong? Are my lessons bad, or is it something I do personally?”
Talk about throwing us a curve! We thought we were going to be chewed up and spit out in little pieces, but here was Brother Reed, thinking he was the reason we were late. We both started explaining simultaneously that it wasn’t his fault at all, but that we just had to take care of all the chores at the dairy.
“Well, would it be of any use to you if I came over early on Sunday and helped with the work a little? It would be a privilege for me, and it might help you get to priesthood on time. What do you say? What time does the work start?” he asked, wearing the most sincere look I’d ever seen on a man’s face.
Tom and I had the same thought at the same time. We couldn’t let him do that. First of all, 4:30 was far too early to drag anyone out of his bed and away from his family on a Sunday morning. Second, we didn’t want him to have to suffer the subfreezing weather. And third, there wasn’t that much he could do anyway. We were not about to give him any of the grubby work.
So when he asked us when we started, we pushed the clock back an hour and told him 3:30 A.M., thinking no one in his right mind would get up that early, no matter how helpful he felt. We thanked him for his generous offer, shook his hand, and assured him that we would try to make more of an effort to be at our meetings on time in the future.
We didn’t think about it much for the rest of the week, until Sunday when I groggily crawled out of bed at about 4:15 in the painfully cold morning. I looked out the window and was shocked to see Brother Reed’s ancient wreck of a Rambler silently parked in the driveway. I threw my clothes on, raced outside, and tapped on his car window.
“Good morning,” he said cheerily as he rolled down the window. His words formed small icy clouds in the air between us. He reached out to shake my hand, and I noticed his grasp was one of the coldest I’d ever felt. I could have kicked myself. It was obvious he’d been waiting in the driveway for some time—probably since 3:30. And his financial state was such that he didn’t have enough money to run the car’s motor—and heater—while he waited.
“Come on inside while Tom gets dressed,” I said as I led him to the house. Then I raced upstairs to hurry Tom into some kind of working condition.
In a few minutes, the three of us were trudging through the snow to the barn. The one thing we hadn’t exaggerated about was the amount of work there was to do, and Brother Reed pitched in the best he could.
At one point in the milking process, though, Brother Reed paused for a second and rather timidly asked, “Do you suppose I could have just a little sip of that milk? I’ve almost forgotten what fresh milk tastes like, we’ve been using the powdered kind for so long.”
Our hearts went out to our quorum adviser. It seemed he sacrificed for everyone. Not only did we give him a drink, but we packaged several gallons for him to take home to his family. It was the least we could do for him.
Well, maybe not the least. The hour for class to begin was drawing nearer and nearer, and the work still wasn’t finished. Finally Brother Reed told us he would have to go home and get ready for church. “Now I understand why it’s so hard for you boys to get to class on time,” he told us as he stood up and wiped the sweat away from his forehead. “I’ll try to be a little more understanding in the future.”
You should have seen the look on his face when he arrived at church to find Tom and me already seated there, clean, with scriptures in hand. We had decided that if he cared enough to go that excruciatingly cold extra mile to help us, we could work a little faster and help him. I can’t honestly say that we were both on time for every meeting from then on, but we did always see that at least one of us was there every Sunday.
And we found that Brother Reed’s lessons were actually quite good. But none of them ever matched the lesson he taught us about service and love before priesthood meeting on that cold winter morning.

As a BYU student long ago, my brother-in-law was an example of fearlessness and not faintheartedness. Since the statute of limitations has run out, the story can now be told. In the dim recesses of time, when phones were rotary and thumbs were for hitchhiking, not texting, computers were huge and programs and data were entered into them on computer cards.

This gentleman, whom we’ll call Frank, because that’s his name, was an electrical engineering major here at BYU. The by-product of entering data onto computer cards then was that in punching them there were resulting leftover tiny bits of paper or cardstock.

Frank, and some undisclosed accomplices, collected and introduced this computer confetti, or chad, into the ventilating ducts of my sister’s BYU apartment so that later, when they turned on their cooler or heater fan, they would be greeted by a Christmas-like shower of paper snow. Unfortunately, such chad or confetti didn’t all come out at once. In fact, due to static electricity cling and the interactions of metal ducts and energized small bits of paper, there was a shower of confetti from then on every time the fans went on. I daresay that someone in this audience has just learned why the vents in their apartment still occasionally waft stray bits of computer-card chad gently onto their carpet.

Unsurprisingly, this greatly annoyed my sister’s roommates—who were not sufficiently childlike, I guess—but Frank’s pluck and daring warmed the cockles of my sister’s heart. The point is that although Frank may have exercised questionable judgment, it was kind of cool. He dared and he won the fair maid because his own heart was not faint. Now, President Samuelson and members of the campus law-enforcement and student-discipline community, I’m not advocating any types of pranks; it’s more a mind-set and a childlike courage I advocate.

A story is told of a woman who was upset that her son was eating too much candy. No matter how much she told him to stop, he continued to satisfy his sweet tooth. Totally frustrated, she decided to take her son to see a wise man whom he respected.
She approached him and said, “Sir, my son eats too much candy. Would you please tell him to stop eating it?”
He listened carefully then said to her son, “Go home and come back in two weeks.”
She took her son and went home, perplexed why he had not asked the boy to stop eating so much candy.
Two weeks later they returned. The wise man looked directly at the boy and said, “Boy, you should stop eating so much candy. It is not good for your health.”
The boy nodded and promised he would.
The boy’s mother asked, “Why didn’t you tell him that two weeks ago?”
The wise man smiled. “Two weeks ago I was still eating too much candy myself.”

On 4 February 1846, the Latter-day Saints began leaving Nauvoo. They had planned to leave in April, but threats from the mobs forced their early departure. Loading their wagons onto the ferry, they crossed the Mississippi River, leaving their homes behind—again! Traveling west about 14 kilometers, they made camp at Sugar Creek, Iowa.
The first days of February were mild, but by the middle of the month snow began to fall. Brigham Young had instructed the Saints to bring a year’s supply of food as well as shelter and other supplies, but many didn’t have the necessary provisions. Some had no tents, and others had unfinished tents that did little to protect them from the cold. After the snowstorms, the temperatures dropped and the Mississippi River froze. This was a blessing for those waiting for the ferry, because they could cross on the ice. But it was a trial for those in Sugar Creek. Many fell ill, and several babies were born in the damp and cold.
The main body of Saints waited in Sugar Creek until 1 March. During this time, additional wagons joined them daily, and Brigham Young organized the Camp of Israel into groups of hundreds, fifties, and tens, with leaders appointed over each group.

When I was about 14 years old, my brother, some friends, and I went to a nearby pond to go row boating.
One of my friends challenged me to race her to the shore. I really didn’t know how to swim well, but it wasn’t very far, so I said yes, but what I didn’t realize was that my jeans would take on water and get really heavy. I got into the water, and my jeans immediately began pulling me down. I thought for sure I was going to die. My brother and another friend came in and pulled me to shore, but what surprised me was that in my panic I tried fighting them off because I thought they were trying to drown me.
This experience reminded me of how easy it is to make bad choices and how we sometimes pull away from those who are trying to help us. Like my brother and our friend, the Savior is always there to try and help us, even when we initially resist. I couldn’t save myself from drowning, but my brother and friend could. Through the Atonement, our Savior can help each of us to return to His presence if we just let Him. Satan gives us many temptations that are hard to resist, but if we stay close to the Lord, He will help us overcome them.

Imagine the Prophet Joseph Smith’s reactions to some of his assignments. Can you imagine as a college-aged student being told by an angel from God that you will translate an ancient history from gold plates? Certainly Joseph has feelings of being unprepared and inadequate for such an undertaking. But just as certainly, the angel and our Heavenly Father know that Joseph can do the assignment with hard work and with help—help from heaven and help from people.

Joseph works so hard at fulfilling this assignment. For a while, Joseph, with the help of the Urim and Thummin, does the translating on his own, but he just isn’t making much progress. Emma begins to help as a scribe, but her daily activities prevent her from helping as much as she wants. The Lord tells Joseph that He will send another scribe if Joseph is patient. In the meantime, the Lord prepares and directs Oliver Cowdery to assist Joseph. Imagine the sense of gratitude Joseph feels when Oliver arrives and offers help with this daunting assignment.

Day after day, the two work on the translation. One day Joseph receives inspiration through the Urim and Thummin to send a letter to David Whitmer asking for David to take Joseph and Oliver from Harmony, Pennsylvania, back to David’s home to finish the translation in Fayette, New York, near Palmyra. David receives the letter, not knowing what to do because he is in the middle of a big job that needs to be finished before he can leave. David also has a difficult assignment he must complete. He needs two days of heavy work to finish harrowing and planting the rest of his wheat and then at least another day to spread the much-needed plaster of paris on his land. David has at least three days of work ahead of him before he can help Joseph. However, David feels he should leave sooner—a difficult assignment.

The next morning, David goes to the fields to begin his pressing assignment. At noon, when he stops for lunch, he discovers to his surprise that he is half finished with the work, and by evening he has finished the job that would normally take him two days to accomplish. The next morning when he goes to the plaster of paris heap to spread it on another field, the pile is gone. He asks his sister what has happened to the plaster, and she explains that the day before she and her children hade watched three men spread plaster in the fields faster than they have ever seen it done before. She assumes David has hired the men. Of course, he has not. David goes door-to-door trying to determine who has helped him, but no one knows. David begins to recognize that he has been receiving heavenly help with his duties at home so he can carry on his assignment to help Joseph.

David leaves immediately to help Joseph. After three days of making good time traveling, David meets Joseph and Oliver on the road outside Harmony. David is surprised to meet them, but Oliver explains that Joseph has known the exact time David left Fayette and even where David has stopped for lunch and watered his horses.

They return to Harmony for Joseph to say goodbye to Emma who will be following later. Joseph prays for guidance about what do to with the gold plates; he receives the answer that he should give them to an angel who will return them to Joseph when he arrives at the Whitmer farm. Joseph gives the plates to an angel before they leave for New York. On the way they see an aged man walking along the road with a knapsack that seems heavy on his back. Joseph tells David to stop and offer the man a ride in the wagon. The old man politely refuses and tells them that he is just going over to Cumorah. David turns to Joseph confused because he knows the area well and has never heard of Cumorah. Joseph explains that the man is a Nephite and in his knapsack are the gold plates. When David turns to look at the man, he is gone.

When they arrive at the Whitmer farm, the angel returns the plates, and Joseph and Oliver are able to finish the translation.[1] Both David and Joseph have received help from others and help from heaven in fulfilling their individual assignments.