Gospel Story Finder

Ancient One saw, with the eyes of his mind, his boy-self walking with his father in the bright sunshine of a day many years gone. His father was tall and muscular, the boy small and thin, his bare feet dusted with soft, orange sand. How he had loved his father, so strong and handsome!
The boy and his father were walking side by side, heads bent, eyes searching the ground. Father stooped and picked up a small black stone. He showed it to the boy, then stowed it in a leather pouch that hung from his waist by a thick strap. They walked on. Now the boy crouched to pick up another stone. He showed it to his father, who nodded approval. They kept searching until there were seven black stones in Father’s pouch.
One night in the midst of the long, cold winter, Father took the stones from the pouch and sat cross-legged in front of the fire, chipping away at them. Flickering flames made his shadow dance behind him as he worked.
The snows finally melted. The grass grew green, the trees budded, and the flowers showed their young faces. Father presented the black stones to the boy as part of the celebration of his seventh spring of life. But the stones had changed. Father had shaped them into seven sleek black arrowheads, which he had attached to seven straight shafts of wood and feathers. Father also gave the boy a bow that his own father had fashioned for him from the willowy branch of an ash tree.
Filled with happiness and excitement, the boy ran toward the woods, his bare feet kicking puffs of dirt behind him. It was a warm day, but in the woods the air was cool and damp. Sometimes mud squeezed up between his toes. Birds sang in the trees, and insects buzzed. Leaf shadows from hundreds of tall trees played on the ground. The boy vowed to stay in the woods until he could shoot his arrows straight and far. He would earn the look of pride in his father’s face and be a step closer to manhood.
When he came to a meadow deep in the woods, the boy placed the first arrow on his bowstring and tried to remember all his father had taught him.
Facing a dead tree that stood alone in the meadow, he pulled the string back and let the arrow fly. It stuck in the ground well to the left of the tree. The boy frowned. He quickly shot another arrow. It skittered along the ground to the right of the tree. Anger boiled up inside the boy. Gritting his teeth, he quickly shot the five remaining arrows, missing the mark farther each time.
Fiercely blinking back angry tears, he ran to the closest arrow and jerked it from the ground. He grasped it in both hands, ready to snap it in two. But as he looked at the arrow, he remembered his father sitting patiently by the fire straightening the shaft, sighting along it with a critical eye and then straightening it again and again and again. To become a great hunter and warrior like his father, he would need not only strength and courage but also patience and wisdom.
He gathered the arrows and returned to his shooting spot. This time he took a deep breath and tried to make his mind as quiet as the feet of a stalking hunter. He shot again and missed but let his anger drift away like smoke in the wind.
Again and again he shot, growing calmer each time. At first he still missed badly, but gradually the arrows began flying farther and straighter. When one finally hit the tree, he whooped and danced with joy.
The boy returned to the meadow every sunny day. Time after time he shot and retrieved the arrows. Gradually his arms began to feel at one with the bow. His eyes began to see, his mind began to know when and how to let the arrows go. By late spring most of the arrows he shot sliced swift and true through the air.
One day the boy hit the tree dead center with every arrow. His heart beat strong with pride and joy. As the sun sank and the light of day began to fade, he shot each arrow into the sky—seven arrows for the seven springs of his life. Each one sailed up, higher and higher. Glossy black feathers rippled in the wind; a bright black arrowhead pointed at a cloudless sky. When the arrow had soared as high as the highest tree, it turned toward the earth and began to fall. Diving faster and faster, it became a blur in the boy’s large black eyes. Each arrow landed, taking its place in line with the others. The boy tipped his face to the sky and laughed out loud. He gathered his treasured arrows and raced home, his heart full of happiness.

Denver Second Ward
Waving and smiling, children from the Denver Second Ward, Golden Colorado Stake, participated in a community parade. They and their families dressed in traditional clothing of their ancestors and carried colorful flags. They marched behind a banner that read, “Holding Hands around the World.” One woman watching the parade said that she was grateful for the Church and its members because she had received help in doing family history work.

Julie was sad. Grandma was in the hospital, and Mother had gone to visit her.
“What’s wrong, Julie?” Angie, her older sister, asked.
“Is Grandma going to get better?” Julie wondered.
“I don’t know,” Angie replied.
“Why aren’t you upset? Don’t you love Grandma?” Julie asked.
“Of course I love her,” Angie said. “But even if she dies, we can be together forever.”
“I thought being together forever meant none of us would ever die,” Julie said.
Angie smiled. “Being together forever means we can be together as a family in Heavenly Father’s kingdom.”
Julie sighed. “I don’t understand.”
“Next month Mark and I are going to be married,” Angie explained. “Do you know where?”
“In the temple,” Julie answered. “You’ve been planning it for months.”
“Actually, I’ve planned on being married in the temple for as long as I can remember,” Angie explained. “In the temple we will be sealed together as an eternal family unit. Because Grandma and Grandpa were sealed in the temple and Mom and Dad were sealed in the temple, we are all sealed together as a family even after this life.”
“And that’s all there is to it?” Julie asked.
“We also have to try to live as an eternal family now. We need to live the gospel, love one another, and help each other.”
“I’m glad you are my sister forever,” Julie said.
“So am I,” Angie responded.

President Thomas S. Monson
“Christmas time had come. We were preparing for the oven a gigantic turkey and anticipating the savory feast that awaited. A neighborhood pal of mine asked a startling question: ‘What does turkey taste like?’
“I responded, ‘Oh, about like chicken tastes.’
“Again a question: ‘What does chicken taste like?’
“It was then that I realized that my friend had never eaten chicken or turkey. I asked what his family was going to have for Christmas dinner. There was no prompt response—just a downcast glance and the comment, ‘I dunno. There’s nothing in the house.’
“I pondered a solution. There was none. I had no turkeys, no chickens, no money. Then I remembered I did have two pet rabbits. Immediately I took my friend by the hand and rushed to the rabbit hutch, placed the rabbits in a box, and handed the box to him with the comment, ‘Here, take these two rabbits. They’re good to eat—just like chicken.’
“He took the box, climbed the fence, and headed for home, a Christmas dinner safely assured. Tears came easily to me as I closed the door to the empty rabbit hutch. But I was not sad. A warmth, a feeling of indescribable joy, filled my heart. It was a memorable Christmas.
“Heavenly Father is ever mindful of those who need, who seek, who trust, who pray, and who listen when He speaks. ‘For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life’ (John 3:16). God’s gift becomes our blessing. May every heart open wide and welcome him—Christmas day and always.”1

I had my eyes opened to “looking beyond what I could see” while serving as a mission president. A young elder arrived with apprehension in his eyes. As we met in an interview, he said dejectedly, “I want to go home.” I thought to myself, “Well, we can fix this.” I counseled him to work hard and to pray about it for a week and then call me. A week later, almost to the minute, he called. He still wanted to go home. I again counseled him to pray, to work hard, and to call me in a week. In our next interview, things had not changed. He insisted on going home.
I just wasn’t going to let that happen. I began teaching him about the sacred nature of his call. I encouraged him to “forget [himself] and go to work.” But no matter what formula I offered, his mind did not change. It finally occurred to me that I might not have the whole picture. It was then that I felt a prompting to ask him the question: “Elder, what is hard for you?” What he said pierced my heart: “President, I can’t read.”
The wise counsel which I thought was so important for him to hear was not at all relevant to his needs. What he needed most was for me to look beyond my hasty assessment and allow the Spirit to help me understand what was really on this elder’s mind. He needed me to see him correctly and offer a reason to hope. Instead, I acted like a giant demolition wrecking ball. This valiant elder did learn to read and became a very pure disciple of Jesus Christ. He opened my eyes to the Lord’s words: “For man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart” (1 Samuel 16:7).

By December 1993, having a joint institute class for young single adults, single adults and married couples was very common in the early days of establishing the Church in Lagos. These classes were hosted by the Ikeja and Oshodi branches in the Lagos District and were held in our rented building.
We were about to close a class one evening when we received information that a visiting sister needed to address the class. The visitor was Patience Ojukwu. She told the class about her poultry farm at Idimu Egbeda and many opportunities for members. She was a recent convert who joined the Church in March 1993 and immediately started assisting the full-time missionaries in our branches and district, some of whom I worked with were Elders Idiong, Akpan, Arungwa, and Ikpegbu Christopher. Brother Cletus Ashidike, who served as the Oshodi branch president, was very supportive to the cause of Zion with his personal resources and time.
We always sought for opportunitis to serve, and I never waited to be commanded. Some of our early converts and those whom I taught as a youth Sunday School teacher are now serving as bishops, stake presidents, and some of those whom we interviewed for such leadership roles are now Area Seventies, mission presidents, or temple ordinance workers. Some missionaries whom we worked with over the years are scattered all over Africa, the Middle East and the Pacific.
Between December 23 and 24 1993, our Oshodi Branch missionaries asked me to go to Sister Patience Ojukwu’s farm to buy old layer chickens for Christmas dinner. When I returned with one, the other companion asked me to get another for them. Arriving at the farm on the afternoon of Christmas Eve, Sister Ojukwu informed me that she had lost more than two hundred old layer chicken which had been stolen the previous night. I was only a priest in the Aaronic Priesthood, but I was the only priesthood holder on the farm that very day. I asked that we all join hands together and pray to God to reveal to us what action to take. I got the answers immediately and asked Sister Ojukwu to inform the police. When the detectives arrived, the farm security guard was arrested and confessed that the farm supervisor transferred and sold the birds to a small neighboring farmer.
Over 90 percent of the birds were recovered. The activities at the farm that day lasted until nightfall. Sister Ojukwu pleaded that I spend the night with her family. Very early on Christmas morning, I returned to the missionary apartment at Oshodi with crates of eggs as a gift from Sister Ojukwu.
The Ojukwu family was very excited for this huge recovery. They invited me to live with them and to be their farm manager. I accepted this as a volunteer position. This decision was very important to me as I was desirous to refer contacts and visitors to the missionaries to be taught.
Sister Ojukwu served as the Lagos District Relief Society president. While living with them and managing the farm, in 1994 I was ordained to the office of an elder. The farm became a point of contact for missionaries and Church youth community projects, and this led to many baptisms and later the creation of the Egbeda Branch. A major achievement was the baptism of Sister Ojukwu’s husband, Augustine Ojukwu. The Ojukwu family relocated to England and have remained active in the Church. It was a wonderful reunion for me to meet Sister Ojukwu at the Aba Nigeria Temple during its dedication and my sealing in August 2005.
Egbeda Branch has grown into a stake of Zion and is ready for another split as a result of massive growth. One of our early converts in that area, Brother Sunday Adejuwon, later served a full-time mission, was called as bishop, and currently serves as the stake president of the Lagos Nigeria Egbeda Stake. The turning point in my life was when I discovered for myself that heaven is never closed, God hears and answers prayers, directs our footsteps and the building of Zion is our collective responsibility for those who have taken His name upon themselves.
The rapid growth of the Church in Egbeda area was a monumental milestone as it was hitherto an obscure area largely away from the center of strength, it is indeed a mark of one of the miracles of Church growth in Africa and the gathering of Israel becomes a reality when those who are strong take the weak. I envisage a very bright future as many stakes of Zion grow here.
This area of Lagos was and will always be very dear to my heart, for it was here that I laid the foundation of my spiritual growth, of receiving personal revelations, recording in my journal and keeping accurate record of the unfolding history of the church in this part of the Lord’s kingdom.

The Book of Mormon brought me a great desire to be accepted of the Lord. One night, my newborn daughter awakened me. I fed her, and she soon fell asleep, but I was left awake in the stillness of the night. I thought of the changes in my life and the many things that still needed to be changed. My thoughts were drawn to God, and I prayed, remembering the words of the Lamanite king who cried, “O God, … wilt thou make thyself known unto me, and I will give away all my sins to know thee.” (Alma 22:18.)
One by one, the Lord showed me my weaknesses. In the early hours of the morning, I received a sweet assurance, which I recorded in my journal and have pondered many times: “I am your Father. Your Father!”

With one of my daughters, I was baptized a member of the Church on 25 July 1993. One of my other daughters, however, listened to the missionary discussions with us but was not baptized. She later took the discussions again but still was not baptized. I eventually decided to give her a subscription to the Liahona (Spanish). This added help opened the way for the Spirit to witness to her, and a few months later she was converted. Now I wait eagerly for the messages that inspire and uplift the spirit.
Mireya Josefina Almea de Rodriguez,Bolívar Branch, Barcelona Venezuela Stake

During my growing-up years in the small farming community of Spring City, Utah, an opportunity afforded itself each summer to be with my father alone for two weeks herding sheep in the mountain range of the Manti-La Sal. On one occasion the fog rested heavily in the area to the extent that you could not see your outstretched hand in front of you, and the evening was drawing nigh.
My father suggested that I return to camp, and he would soon follow. I remember questioning how I would be able to find the camp amidst the fog. My father simply said to me, “Give the horse the reins, and he will get you to camp.” Following this counsel, I loosened my grip on the reins, and with encouragement to the horse, the journey began. At times I would be struck in the face by a low-hanging limb I couldn’t see or have my leg brush close to a tree. Eventually, the horse came to a complete stop, and the silhouette of the camp was in view.
Sometimes we may not always be able to immediately find the desired way before us, but the wisdom of those who have gone before, coupled with the wisdom of those who are with us still, will be our guide if we let them have the reins.

I want to describe the characteristics and tactics of two cheetahs Susan and I watched hunting their prey and relate some of the things we observed to the daily living of the gospel of Jesus Christ.
Cheetahs are the fastest land animals on earth and reach running speeds as high as 75 mph (120 km/h). These beautiful animals can accelerate from a standstill position to running as fast as 68 mph (109 km/h) in less than three seconds. Cheetahs are predators that sneak up on their prey and sprint a short distance to chase and attack.
Susan and I spent almost two hours watching two cheetahs stalking a large group of topis, Africa’s most common and widespread antelopes. The tall, dry grass of the African savanna was golden brown and almost totally obscured the predators as they pursued a group of topis. The cheetahs were separated from each other by approximately 100 yards (91 m) but worked in tandem.
While one cheetah sat upright in the grass and did not move, the other cheetah crouched low to the ground and slowly crept closer to the unsuspecting topis. Then the cheetah that had been sitting upright disappeared in the grass at exactly the same moment that the other cheetah sat upright. This alternating pattern of one cheetah crouching low and creeping forward while the other cheetah sat upright in the grass continued for a long time. The stealthy subtlety of the strategy was intended to distract and deceive the topis and thereby divert their attention away from the approaching danger. Patiently and steadily, the two cheetahs worked as a team to secure their next meal.
Positioned between the large group of topis and the approaching cheetahs were several older and stronger topis standing as sentinels on termite mounds. The enhanced view of the grasslands from the small hills enabled these guardian topis to watch for signs of danger.
Then suddenly, as the cheetahs appeared to be within striking distance, the entire group of topis turned and ran away. I do not know if or how the sentinel topis communicated with the larger group, but somehow a warning was given, and all the topis moved to a place of safety.
And what did the cheetahs do next? Without any delay, the two cheetahs resumed their alternating pattern of one cheetah crouching low and creeping forward while the other cheetah sat upright in the grass. The pattern of pursuit continued. They did not stop. They did not rest or take a break. They were relentless in following their strategy of distraction and diversion. Susan and I watched the cheetahs disappear in the distance, always moving closer and closer to the group of topis.
That night Susan and I had a memorable conversation about what we had observed and learned. We also discussed this experience with our children and grandchildren and identified many valuable lessons. I now will describe three of those lessons.

When the pandemic hit in 2020, I was one of the first people infected with COVID-19 in my area in Scotland. At first I thought it was a simple cold. But as time went on, my health progressively got worse, until even breathing was a struggle. My throat and sinuses were badly damaged, and I suffered from chronic fatigue.
Recovery was ongoing for over a year and a half, during which time I was unable to participate in any sport or physical activity. I had to put everything on pause. I even dropped out of university for a year, and I became very bitter—bitter about my circumstances and angry at Heavenly Father when recovery seemed unattainable.
Despite my mindset, I continued living the gospel. I continued going to church and doing what I could to help and serve others. Gradually, my state of mind started improving.
When the worst of the symptoms started dissipating, I got an unexpected call to serve on my stake high council. Despite my apprehension, I accepted the call with the hope that the Lord would provide a way for me to fulfil the call despite my poor health (see 1 Nephi 3:7).
One of the first assignments I received was to speak about the Saviour and His Atonement. With every talk I gave to other followers of Jesus Christ, my understanding of Him and what He did for me grew. I realised I’d been ignoring a vital part of His Atonement—the Lord suffered and died not only for our sins but for our afflictions. He knows how to uplift us in our trials (see Alma 7:12).
President Camille N. Johnson, Relief Society General President, recently taught:
“Jesus Christ can lighten our load.
“Jesus Christ can lift our burdens.
“Jesus Christ provides a way for us to be relieved of the weight of sin.
“Jesus Christ is our relief. ...
“… I can’t go at it alone, and I don’t need to, and I won’t. Choosing to be bound to my Savior, Jesus Christ, through the covenants I have made with God, ‘I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me’ [Philippians 4:13].”1
I’m also prone to relying upon my own strength, and in my pride I really had thought I could overcome my trial alone. But I came to realise that I wasn’t failing because the trial was too hard; it was because I wasn’t allowing Jesus Christ to offer me His strength and support.
Finally understanding what He offers me through His healing power changed everything. Although my road to recovery wasn’t going to be easy or quick, I could find peace, joy, and strength along the way by turning to Him.
We don’t have to face any trials alone. We can rely upon our Saviour for strength. I realised that the spiritual hardship I felt during my sickness came from my lack of understanding in my relationship with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ and what strength They could provide me with as I continued to serve, seek, and follow Them.
President Dallin H. Oaks, First Counselor in the First Presidency, gave a powerful reminder of our relationship with the Saviour when he said: “He … knows our struggles, our heartaches, our temptations, and our suffering, for He willingly experienced them all as an essential part of His Atonement. And because of this, His Atonement empowers Him to succor us—to give us the strength to bear it all.”2
Fortunately, the Lord pushed me to be more active in the pursuit of understanding Him. And as I’ve come to understand Him better, I’ve been able to see His hand in my life in greater abundance and see miracles of healing, even if it has taken longer than anticipated. As President Johnson also taught, “Covenant keepers are blessed with the Savior’s relief.”3
Increasing my understanding of the Saviour and keeping my covenants has been a huge blessing in my life. He has given me so much spiritual and temporal relief from my hardships. I can promise that as you strive to do the same, the love of the Lord and your divine purpose will become clear. You’ll find strength beyond your own—as I have.

Elder Mark Macklind watched his new companion jog ahead and shook his own head in awe. He pedaled his bike to parallel Elder Hilversum and asked, “Do you run like this every day?”
“Yup,” Elder Hilversum replied, puffing between words. “Every day, same time, same route. You can join me tomorrow if you’d like.”
“Yeah, you already said that.” Mark shifted gears to accommodate the slower pace. “But I’d rather hang by my toes overnight. Just give me a cookie, and I’ll wear the sofa out.”
“Oh, come on, elder,” the runner pleaded, jumping off the curb to cross the street. “You’ve got to admit that it’s good for you.”
“So is prune juice. I can hardly stand to watch you, let alone join you.” He pedaled ahead a few yards, scanning the road.
“Where are we going?” Mark asked flatly, uncomfortably perplexed. Transfers had just occurred that day, bringing the reluctant Elder Macklind to a new area with which he was wholly unfamiliar, and pairing his antiathletic body with jog-happy Elder Hilversum. Mark felt very unsettled, and yet Elder Hilversum didn’t seem to notice. He just serenely breezed through the day as if nothing was new, which Mark found somewhat depressing; it’s tough to be gloomy without company, and this cheerful Hilversum guy just wasn’t cooperating. Mark frowned at the ground. His mind was still in Cedar Court, on the Caufields.
Elder Hilversum wiped a stream of perspiration from going into his eye. “Why don’t you ride behind me, if you don’t know where you are?”
“Thanks for the advice, but I prefer being upwind. Maybe you haven’t noticed, but joggers carry a peculiar scent about them.” Elder Macklind rode a large figure eight.
“You’re just afraid to sweat,” the runner accused, smirking.
Mark grimaced. “Do not mistake fright for what is actually disgust, elder.” He allowed his companion to plod past him and followed around the corner. “I just have a strong aversion to shin splints.”
Elder Hilversum laughed. As he silently watched the hiking figure in front of his bike, Mark had to admit a grudging respect for his companion’s tenacity, though he also thought it was insane to willingly submit oneself to such inevitable pain. Mark wondered why there wasn’t an easier way to get fit. Why isn’t there ever an easier way?
His thoughts wandered again to yesterday’s area, to the Caufields. What didn’t they understand? Maybe he should have said something else, done something more. But what? It was so frustrating. Honestly, he thought he had done all that he could. It was someone else’s responsibility now. But still, it was an awfully hard thing to understand why their enthusiasm died.
“Oh, boy,” Elder Hilversum sighed, waking Mark from his abstraction and finishing the run by slowing to a walk. “That was a lot of fun.”
Mark made a face. “It looked like torture,” he hissed.
“Oh, but, Elder Macklind, it feels so great!” Elder Hilversum exclaimed, wiping his face with his shirt.
“Only when you stop,” Mark said, hopping off his bike and pushing it up the driveway. “Nothing could get me to do that to myself.”
But the next day the tire on his bike popped, and when the time for the daily exercise ritual rolled around, Mark found himself jogging beside his persistent companion. “Glad to have you with me,” Elder Hilversum puffed, grinning widely. Elder Macklind only growled in return. He wasn’t sure that he clearly understood how this had happened.
Mr. Caufield had grinned so widely, too, after accepting the baptismal challenge. His wife had cried and hugged Mark tightly as he left; he told her she would look so pretty in white. And she would have, too, if they had only tried harder. Mark winced at the memory. All the plans, filling the font, so much excitement, smiling all day, and then finding their note instead of them: “We just do not want to be baptized after all.” Mark shut his eyes tight.
“Hey, Elder Macklind! You’re beginning to sweat!” Elder Hilversum laughed, enjoying the sight. Mark could feel it too.
“Ssh!” he motioned. “Don’t broadcast it!” His hairline was beginning to glue to his skin, bringing a strange sensation over his body. How could he do this every day? Elder Hilversum hopped ahead a few steps. Mark trudged on.
Sometimes Mark wondered why he had come on a mission at all. Just like this stupid run, it often seemed like a lot of effort for no good purpose. He just got sore legs and an aching heart that beat too hard as if it were going to explode out of his chest. And he went back three times, but he never saw the Caufields again before the transfer. Maybe never again, period. Mark contorted his eyebrows into a knot, and tiny trickles of water fell down his face. He gritted his teeth. Why does he keep running?
The jog had become rudely taxing. Mark began to punctuate each plop of his heels with a gutterul groan, partly out of exhaustion and partly in an effort to complain: “Ugh!”—step—“Ugh!”—step—“Ugh!” His seeping energy was beginning to upset him. He could feel anger well up deep inside and churn up toward his head, as if his feet were pumping it farther with every plod. What’s the point in trying anyway? There was so much to be angry about. Mark wanted to give in to it.
They came to a crosswalk, and Elder Hilversum was jogging in place waiting for the light to change when Mark caught up to him. “Is anyone watching us?” Mark huffed to his companion, the pogo stick.
Elder Hilversum grinned again, glancing from side to side, “Nope.”
“Good!” Mark blurted, and promptly fell to the ground in a lifeless sprawl, moaning, “All over. All over. Any time now.”
Anxiously, Elder Hilversum reached for his land-grabbing companion. “Get up, Elder Macklind, get up! Are you all right?”
“Dying. Dying,” Mark lamented from among the grass blades and dirt.
“No, you’re not dying,” Elder Hilversum retorted impatiently, pulling at Mark’s arm. “But you’ll cramp up if you lie there much longer.”
Mark slowly stood again, leaning on Elder Hilversum with dedicated weariness. “Aren’t we done yet?” he wailed.
“Press forward, Elder Macklind,” Elder Hilversum advised, his patience returning with his place-running. “Have a perfect brightness of hope.”
“I’m beyond hope,” Mark murmured. “I’m well into despair.”
The pair jaunted on, Elder Hilversum slowing his pace to stay beside Elder Macklind. Mark wanted to cry. So hard. Thud, lift, thud, lift, thud.
Elder Hilversum began to gasp out a hymn, managing five words at a breath: “Let us all press on … in the work of the … Lord that when life is … o’er we may gain a …”
Mark couldn’t join in, because he wanted to scream. How could he act happy under these conditions? Another thud, lift, thud, lift, thud, lift … every day like this? And Elder Hilversum plowing ahead in breathy song with his permanent smile, like a marathon minstrel harboring a secret pleasure. Mark stared at him with aching eyes, torn between sincere anguish and raging rebellion.
“Elder Hilversum,” Mark called, turning the warbler’s sweaty head in mid-chorus, seeing the grin melt to concern, “how can you go like this every day, running on?”
Two hard plods. “This is silly,” Mark panted, unfinished. “I’m killing myself on this road; I really am. But you just keep going. Why, elder? Why?” And then, after a thud, “How?”
Elder Hilversum furrowed his wet, hot brow. “I don’t know, Elder Macklind,” he said, still tramping on. “I just keep reminding myself that the feeling of accomplishment will always be worth the temporary pain of effort.”
They stepped up to a curb, in lock-jog.
“You make it sound like spiritual persecution,” Mark muttered.
The senior companion grinned. “Do I?” he asked and laughed. Then he stretched the stride.
That grin was ingratiating. But the memory of the Caufields demanded his depression, and so Mark moaned. “I can’t imagine anything being worth this pain!”
“Don’t dwell on how much it hurts, Elder Macklind.”
“Everything hurts.”
“Just keep moving. Don’t worry about how fast you’re going, just keep going, and give it all you’ve got. I’ll run with you.”
Mark nodded, swallowing. “I know.”
“Elder Macklind, do your best. Push yourself, and don’t stop at less. You’ve been doing your best. Don’t quit now because it’s getting more difficult. Give it all you’ve got, and that’s all you need to give. Elder Macklind, all you can do is all you can do.”
Mark watched the sidewalk disappear under his feet. “Yeah, okay,” he said, but wanted to say something better. Elder Hilversum ran beside him, and so Mark pushed a little harder. Elder Hilversum grinned. He was always doing that. And the house wasn’t too far now, anyway.
Mark wiped his face with his hand and threw the sweat behind him. He was beginning to understand a little better, and the day didn’t look so bad now. Running on, he reflected, “All we can do is all we can do,” and smiled a little. That made sense, he decided, and brought his head up to see the sun, thinking, “Maybe I’ll run again tomorrow.”

A few years ago, on the day of my parents’ anniversary, my mom was diagnosed with a stage 4 pancreatic cancer. The results of her CT scan showed that her cancer was life-threatening and her body was deteriorating. It was in that moment that I knew my mom wouldn’t live much longer.
I was not ready for that. I foresaw what life would be without my mom. Everything was dark, gloomy, and sad. There was no more joy or laughter—and no warm hugs from my mom that would comfort me. There didn’t seem to be life at all.
Months passed by and my mom’s body continued to weaken. But what amazed me the most was her desire to go to church, participate in our daily family scripture study, give lessons in our family home evenings, and even laugh with us.
One day, I asked her, “Haven’t you questioned Heavenly Father? Haven’t you wondered why you have to have cancer?” My mom smiled and shared her testimony about the plan of salvation. She told me that I needed to understand the plan of salvation to feel the genuine happiness that it gives. She said if I understood where we come from, what our purpose in this life is, and where we are going, I would understand that we will always be together, that I would never really lose her. She encouraged me to continue preparing for a mission and to share the gospel of Jesus Christ and the plan of salvation with others so that they could receive the blessings of comfort and happiness as well.
I realized that my mom was right. Why would I fear losing her here on earth if I knew that as long as I kept my covenants and completed the will of the Father that I would see her in the next life? I felt peaceful.
A little while later, my mom passed away. During my mom’s wake—a celebration of her life we held before her burial—even though it was hard and I was sad, everything seemed peaceful, and I could still feel my mom’s presence. Even the people around me seemed to be uplifted. I knew that I was feeling the true blessing of understanding God’s divine plan.
Later, when it was time to take my mom to the cemetery, a young boy came up to me and asked me why I wasn’t crying. I remembered how I thought of my mom’s death before and how I had only seen a lot of sadness and grief. I smiled and knelt down to his level. I told him, “I know that I will see my mom again if I continue to follow God’s commandments.” The boy smiled too, and I knew that he felt the same peace I was feeling.
My mom was gone, but the darkness, gloom, and sadness I thought would fill my life weren’t present. I said goodbye to her and told her that we would see each other in the next life. I felt comforted despite our loss. It was a blessing that came from understanding the plan of salvation.

When my youngest daughter, Maleah, was nearly two years old, she was playing in the cultural hall of our church in New Canaan, Connecticut. You know those doors that open up under the stage where we store chairs and tables? Maleah was playing with those doors and accidentally closed both doors at the same time really hard with her thumb in between them. She just cried and cried, our sweet little girl. When she finally settled down, we noticed that her thumb was stuck in a bent position. After visiting the emergency room and then a hand specialist a week later, we learned that Maleah had what is called congenital trigger thumb, in which the tendon that flexes the thumb is stuck in its sheath, holding the thumb in a bent position. We waited a few weeks at the doctor’s recommendation to see if it might heal itself. And when that didn’t happen, we scheduled a time for surgery.
Early that morning at the hospital, our little girl—who normally bounces off walls, wrestles with her older brothers, and generally causes havoc wherever she goes—was pretty subdued. We dressed her in the cutest yellow hospital clothes they had and found some fluffy red socks to keep her feet warm. Then the nurse took us down to a closet where Maleah chose a cute pillow-soft teddy bear to take with her into the surgery prep room. Then I put on some scrubs, we said good-bye to Melinda, and I carried my sweet little girl down the hall to the prep room, her arms tightly around my neck.
I was so worried that she might not let go and that she would be scared to go into surgery. But when we arrived in the room, I gave her a big hug and then gently laid her down on the table onto a nice warm blanket. The nurse put another warm blanket over Maleah while I talked with her, kept her calm, and placed her little teddy bear—which she snuggled closely—under her arm. I looked at her right in the eyes, and she looked at me while I explained that the doctor was going to put a mask over her face and that she was going to fall asleep. While holding my hand and looking into my eyes, she watched the doctor place the mask over her mouth and nose. Shortly after, I whispered to her that I loved her, and I watched her little lips inside the mask speak the words “I love you too.” Then her little lips started to quiver, and she closed her eyes to sleep. My sweet little girl who bounces off walls had calmly gone into surgery listening to my voice and looking deeply into my eyes. It was one of the most sacred experiences of my entire life.

My dad got sick when I was one year old. He prayed that he would stay alive long enough to baptize me, and he did. Two months after my baptism, he died. After my dad died, I was sad, so I prayed about it. I asked Heavenly Father to help me not be sad. Now I am not so sad anymore. I still think of my dad, and I think of how we are an eternal family. I think about how I will get to see Dad again.Tyler Miller, age 8Orchard Park, New York

A dear friend shared how she gained her precious testimony of the Atonement of Jesus Christ. She grew up believing sin always brought great punishment, borne by us alone. She pleaded to God to understand the possibility of divine forgiveness. She prayed to understand and know how Jesus Christ can forgive those who repent, how mercy can satisfy justice.

One day her prayer was answered in a spiritually transforming experience. A desperate young man came running out of a grocery store carrying two bags of stolen food. He ran into a busy street, chased by the store manager, who caught him and began yelling and fighting. Instead of feeling judgment for the frightened young man as a thief, my friend was unexpectedly filled with great compassion for him. Without fear or concern for her own safety, she walked straight up to the two quarreling men. She found herself saying, “I will pay for the food. Please let him go. Please let me pay for the food.”

Prompted by the Holy Ghost and filled with a love she had never felt before, my friend said, “All I wanted to do was to help and save the young man.” My friend said she began to understand Jesus Christ and His Atonement—how and why with pure and perfect love Jesus Christ would willingly sacrifice to be her Savior and Redeemer, and why she wanted Him to be.38

The Dauphins’ mother, who is single, isn’t a member of the Church, and she often has to be at work on Monday evenings. So Marco and Rosenelle hold family night, complete with a game, songs, prayers, and a lesson. Sometimes the full-time missionaries are invited. It’s a challenge to coordinate their efforts, but all the Dauphins say it’s worth it.
“Joining the Church was a real relief for us,” says Marco. “When we have the Spirit in our home, we feel closer together. We just feel better.”

I would like to conclude today by sharing with you the happiest unexpected happening of my life so far.

I met Aaron Robertson in the fall of 2021. Our first date included a hike at Ensign Peak in Salt Lake City. When we met at the trailhead, Aaron had to change out of his cowboy boots into his hiking boots. I am pretty sure that is when I started falling for him.

Fast forward to a beautiful day in June 2022 when, with the support of Aaron’s six children, we were married. Three months later we were sealed in the Provo Utah Temple.

Talk about the unexpected! All those years, waiting, I had not imagined that I would find my eternal companion and marry at the age of forty-two. I also had not imagined becoming stepmother to six wonderful children who have generously made space for me in their lives and who graciously allow me to love them.

At the time when Aaron and I met, I had built a comfortable life. I loved working with my colleagues at BYU, spending quality time with my family and friends, and serving with the young women of my ward. I had made peace with being single and was thriving.

That being said, I felt absolute peace of mind and heart as Aaron and I discussed the possibility of building a life together. I felt the Savior with me in the choice. He gave me the courage to leave my familiar life to embrace the unfamiliar and sometimes daunting roles of wife and mother. I am so grateful to be bound to Christ! He is helping me every day to learn how to be a new version of myself.

As a couple and as a family, we have navigated a good amount of unexpectedness in our first year together. The night we returned home from our honeymoon, the children were sick with upset stomachs—every last one of them. Two of the children who felt the worst set up camp in the living room, where we had easier access to care for them. In the middle of the night, the younger of the two rolled to the edge of the couch and threw up, unfortunately missing the bowl that had been placed on the floor near her. Aaron carried his daughter to the bathroom to tend to her.

At that moment I realized it would be up to me to clean the floor. Here I was, a brand-new wife and mother just back from her honeymoon, in an unfamiliar home and facing an unenviable task. I screwed my “courage to the sticking-place” and resolved to get the job done. As I looked around for tools to use, my eyes settled on just the thing—a very wide spatula that was part of a pancake-themed wedding gift we had received. Grabbing the spatula and the bowl that had been left untouched next to the couch, I knelt on the carpet and began scraping. The child who remained in the room had witnessed the whole scene from her spot on the floor. As I cleaned, she looked me in the eyes and moaned, “Welcome to the family, Brooke.”

I have come to expect the unexpected. And I recognize now, more than ever, my absolute reliance on the Savior. I don’t know with exactness how His goodness will guide me in the years to come; I just know that it will.

A few years ago, President Oldroyd, a member of the stake presidency, visited my ward and said something I will never forget: “I promise you that if you attend the temple, every part of your life will be blessed.”
As I thought about it, I couldn’t imagine how attending the temple could touch every part of my life. But after church, I decided I would take his challenge anyway and attend the temple on a more regular basis. I wanted to test his promise. My husband had wanted to go to the temple more often, but I was reluctant because we had young children. We would have to drive an hour and a half to the temple in San Antonio, Texas, USA, complete an endowment session, and then drive home. It didn’t work to ask someone to watch our kids for seven or eight hours.
At first we tried trading babysitting with another family, but someone inevitably got sick or had something come up. We decided that we just needed to set the dates for the entire year and go! We then came up with the “pizza and play” method. We would drive to the temple together. One parent would go to a temple session while the other would take the kids to get pizza. Then we would switch: the second parent would do temple work while the other parent walked the temple grounds with the kids. This worked well. Our kids knew the temple was important to us—they knew all the other things we could have been doing on a Saturday—and we got to spend time as a family.

One not so blessed with the gift of sight was the blind man who, in an effort to sustain himself, sat day in and day out at his usual place on the edge of a busy sidewalk in one of our large cities. In one hand he held an old felt hat filled with pencils. With his other hand he held out a tin cup. His simple appeal to the passerby was brief and to the point. It had a certain finality to it, almost a tone of despair. The message was contained on the small placard held about his neck by a string. It read, “I am blind.”
Most did not stop to buy his pencils or to place a coin in the tin cup. They were too busy, too occupied by their own problems. That tin cup had never been filled or even half-filled. Then one beautiful spring day a man paused and, with a marking pen, added several new words to the shabby sign. No longer did it read, “I am blind.” Now the message read, “It is springtime and I am blind.” The cup was soon filled to overflowing. Perhaps the busy people were touched by Charles L. O’Donnell’s exclamation, “I have never been able to school my eyes against young April’s blue surprise.” To each, however, the coins were a poor substitute for the desired ability to actually restore sight.