Gospel Story Finder

During the somber days of World War II, my father was taken prisoner by German troops. He was part of a group of French prisoners from Alsace (which had once been part of Germany) who lacked everything, even the most essential items. Many of the prisoners, especially those who were ill, died of hunger and exposure to the elements or simply of exhaustion during their long marches from one camp to another.
During one of these long and difficult marches into Germany, a sudden explosion detonated in a house not far from this sad string of prisoners. They could hear cries of panic coming from those caught inside the house. The guards quickly tightened the ranks to better guard the prisoners and prevent their escape. However, my father, listening only to his conscience, bolted from the ranks and ran as fast as his weak legs would permit. Without worrying about his own safety, he outran the guards who were pursuing him and shooting in his direction.
Miraculously, he wasn’t hit, and the guards stopped in surprise when they realized he was running into the flame-engulfed house. He soon emerged, carrying a child about eight years old. He had heard the child screaming for help, had rescued him, and now turned him over to the astonished German soldiers. Almost immediately, an officer addressed him in a severe tone: “Do you know what you did? You just saved a future enemy.”
My father, exhausted and drained of all strength from his heroic gesture and from the many hardships of the preceding months, answered with surprising assurance: “I didn’t see an enemy. I saw a human being, a child who needed my help. I did what had to be done—and if it had to be done over, I would do it again without hesitation.”
He was led back to the prisoners—but with a little more respect. And after this act of heroism, all of the prisoners were treated better than they had been before. The most astonishing part of all was that after this group arrived in the camp, my father, in his French uniform, received a German award of distinction.

A personal example to me of handling big, unexpected changes in life is my dad. Growing up, he worked hard on the family farm. On hot summer days he loved to water-ski with his brothers in the irrigation canals. Rather than being pulled by a boat, they would strap the rope to a tractor and drive it along the bank of the canal. In high school, he was a star athlete in football and track. Between his junior and senior year, at the age of 17, he got a summer job helping run telephone lines across the desert of southern Idaho. His responsibility was to check the depth of the lines as the machines buried cables in the ground. But at some point they ran out of cable, so the company sent him to another site for a few days to drill holes in lava rock. These holes were being created for telephone poles that would carry the lines across the lava fields. The first day on his new job, my dad quickly drilled one hole by wrapping his legs tightly around a jackhammer and then chiseling away at the rock. After completing one hole, he had started on another when suddenly there was a large explosion. The company had been blasting the rock with dynamite the day before and some of the explosives had not detonated. My dad had drilled directly into these charges and they exploded, throwing him high into the air. In an instant, his life was forever changed. The explosion resulted in the loss of both of his legs below his knees.

In order to walk again after his recovery, he had to be fitted with prosthetic legs, which he’s worn his whole life. But my dad has never viewed his prosthetic legs as limitations and has found ways to still do extraordinary things. He was active in sports like racquetball and basketball, and even continued his love of water-skiing. Despite needing a wetsuit to keep himself attached to his prosthetic legs, he was still a pretty good skier, most of the time. (And he always made sure to plug his nose on the way down.)

His accident brought on many other health challenges and countless surgeries throughout his life, but one thing I’ve never seen my dad do is complain about it. He’s been a tremendous example to me of how to face challenges and unexpected changes with action instead of self-pity and to make the most of any situation.

A sister missionary told the story of three men she met during a district conference in Africa. They came from an isolated village far away in the bush where the Church had not yet been organized but where there were 15 faithful members and almost 20 investigators. For over two weeks these men had walked on foot, traveling more than 300 miles (480 km) over paths rendered muddy by the rainy season, so they could attend the conference and bring the tithes from the members of their group. They planned to stay for an entire week so they could enjoy the privilege of partaking of the sacrament the following Sunday and then hoped to set out on the return trip carrying boxes filled with copies of the Book of Mormon on their heads to give to the people of their village.
The missionary testified how touched she was by the sense of wonder these brethren displayed and by their wholehearted sacrifices to obtain things that for her had always been readily available.
She wondered: “If I got up one Sunday morning in Arizona and found that my car wasn’t working, would I walk to my church only a few blocks away from home? Or would I just stay home because it was too far or because it was raining?” These are good questions for all of us to consider.

Joseph was jailed more than 50 times for standing up for the Lord’s word and His ways. What did he do when his jailers with coarse language and abhorrent behavior rabbled around outside his cell? As Parley P. Pratt recorded, Joseph stood and commanded: “Silence!”
Parley P. Pratt went on to describe:
Chained, and without a weapon; calm, unruffled and dignified as an angel, he looked upon the quailing guards, whose weapons were lowered or dropped to the ground. . . .
. . . I have tried to conceive of kings, of royal courts, of thrones and crowns; and of emperors assembled to decide the fate of kingdoms; but dignity and majesty have I seen but once, as it stood in chains, at midnight, in a dungeon in an obscure village of Missouri. [PPP, 1985, 180; emphasis in original]

At first glance, Dusti Bills appears to be an average, confident 19-year-old who loves animals and Chinese food. You’d never suspect that she wasn’t expected to walk. Or that she didn’t cry until she was one. Or that she didn’t talk until she was three. Or that she has a disability that leaves her in almost constant pain.
Dusti was born with cerebral palsy, but she doesn’t let that stop her from doing the things she enjoys. And one thing Dusti loves is serving others.
Service is something Dusti, a member of the Riverton Utah First Ward, strongly believes in. When her brother was on his mission in Peru, he mentioned in one of his letters that some of the newly baptized members lacked appropriate clothing to wear to church. Dusti decided to help.
For one of her Value Projects, Dusti asked her friends to donate dresses that the Peruvian Saints could wear to church. When others found out what she was doing, clothing of all kinds began pouring in to the Bills’s home. After collecting and sorting, Dusti filled several suitcases to take with her family when they traveled to Peru to pick up her brother. The bags were crammed with everything from white baptismal clothes to suits for potential missionaries.
Dusti’s help didn’t stop there. Her new wheelchair had arrived a few days before she left Utah, so Dusti was more than willing to leave her old chair at the mission home in Lima. It would go to a woman who recently had a stroke and was no longer able to walk.
“I was just glad someone who needed it got to use it,” Dusti says.
Along with finding grateful Saints who were thrilled with their new clothes, Dusti found a little bit of herself, too.
“You could tell that the members were humble and they really believed in the Church and Jesus Christ. That made me think, I do know that the Church is the right one,” says Dusti. “I believe that Jesus Christ has a plan for everybody.”
Apparently Dusti thinks a big part of her plan includes service, as it is often the basis of what she does. For another Value Project, Dusti made arrangements for her ward’s Young Women group to volunteer at an elementary school for severely disabled children. Dusti had already spent countless hours there as a volunteer, and she wanted her friends to have the experience as well. Dusti feels a special connection with the children she works with, and is sensitive and understanding of their needs.
“I know the children are smart, and they’re thinking of stuff. They just can’t tell people,” Dusti explains.
Dusti’s first thought is to serve, but when she’s not organizing clothing drives or working with disabled preschoolers, she likes playing with her dog, Puck, and her bird, Kiwi. She also has two horses, two cats, a hamster, and a goat. She enjoys acting and playing bass clarinet, and she places high priority on getting things done.
Yet in the background, the surgeries, operations, and medication are a very real part of Dusti’s life. She tries hard to maintain a positive attitude.
Dusti remembers a time when she was 13 and came to terms with her condition. “I thought, Why am I in so much pain? Why does this have to happen to me? I just thought that it was part of the plan for me, and that I am going to know why some day.”
Dusti may not know now why she has to attend therapy sessions every week, or why she can’t go to the mall without her wheelchair. But she does know God has a plan for her life, and she knows that serving others is what brings her true happiness. She lives a life full of faith, determination, and service. And that’s anything but average.

What would you do if you were suddenly told your family was moving to an isolated logging camp way out in the wilds of Alaska? You’d hopefully do what 14-year-old Gayle Gentry did—you’d adjust.
Gayle and her family order their food from Juneau, and they order their church supplies from the same city. They are the only members for quite some distance, so they hold Church meetings at home.
Just because they are so far away from many people and from the center of the Church, Gayle doesn’t feel she has to be far away from the Lord. Her testimony is intact and stronger than ever. “I know the Church is true and that President Ezra Taft Benson is a prophet,” she says. “I love my family and friends, and I love my Father in Heaven and my older brother Jesus Christ, and I know they love me!”

Broto stood on the pendapa (large porch) built on the front of his father’s bamboo house. The village, on the north coast of Java at the edge of the Java Sea, was filled with excited people.
They were arranging for a selamatan (feast) to be held that night because the dalang (puppet master) was making his yearly visit to the village. After the selamatan he would put on an Indonesian wayang kulit (shadow play) with his intricately carved leather puppets. This wayang kulit portrayed stories that were brought to Indonesia over a thousand years ago from India, and the people loved them.
Close by the tall rubber trees Broto saw an old woman stumble and fall in the dirt street. As she fell, something rolled out of her selendang (piece of cloth for carrying personal belongings). Broto saw Amat, the big bully of the village, rush out from the shadows and snatch up whatever the woman had dropped. Then he ran back among the trees.
The hot tropical sun beat against the old woman’s body, and dust arose around her. She cried out, and startled birds flew from the rubber trees, scattering their bright colors above her.
Broto jumped from the porch and ran to help the old woman get to her feet. He noticed that she had been carrying mangoes in her selendang and he assumed that Amat had picked up some of the fruit she had dropped.
Later, when Broto was eating a lunch of spiced meat, rice, and salad with his family, a crowd of people gathered outside the house and started shouting.
"Come outside, Broto!" they called.
"Give back the money, you thief!"
"Come and face the woman!"
Broto and his father walked out onto the pendapa. Amat stood in front of the crowd. "A terrible thing, stealing from a poor old woman!" he shouted with pretended anger.
Broto’s father raised his hands. "What is this all about?" he asked.
Amat pointed his finger at Broto. "He stole an old woman’s tax money. It was all she had, and the tax collector will be here next week."
Amat was so big and seemed so angry that Broto was frightened. He couldn’t find his voice to deny the accusation. All the people in the village were afraid of Amat.
Broto’s father pushed his son into the house and dropped the split-bamboo curtain that formed the front wall. They could hear Amat’s roaring voice.
"Give back the money or we’ll chase you and your family out of the village!"
After a few more shouts, Amat and the crowd left.
"Did you steal the money?" Father asked Broto.
"No," Broto answered. Then he told his father about what he had seen Amat do when the old woman fell.
"You must tell the people that you did not steal the money," his father said.
Broto agreed. But how can I convince them that my story’s true! he wondered. Everyone was too busy with their own affairs to notice the old woman fall and see what happened. She must have told how I helped her up and so everyone suspects me.
In the afternoon Broto walked by a roundabout way to the puppet master’s camp. Later that night he would help the old man, for they had become friends in times past. As he walked, he worked out a plan to let the people know that Amat had stolen the money.
At the camp he greeted the dalang affectionately and then told him what had happened.
"I must tell the people the truth," Broto said. "I have a plan but I will need your help."
"Kami berteman (we are friends)," the puppet master said. "I will be glad to help you."
Broto explained his plan, and the dalang immediately began gathering the puppets for the new characters. Broto went to work setting up the stage for the wayang kulit.
He stretched a piece of white cloth over a wooden frame. Then he hung a lamp behind the cloth. When the dalang held the puppets between the cloth and the lamp, the people watching would see the shadows moving on the white screen. Then the dalang would tell the story in a high, squeaky voice.
As Broto finished helping the dalang, the people began gathering in front of the screen, waiting for the selamatan. Broto watched the dalang arrange his puppets.
"Now I will prove my innocence," Broto said. "And I hope the people will be angry and punish Amat."
"You’ll gain virtue if you forgive him, and you’ll feel better too," the wise old dalang told him.
After the feast of vegetables cooked in coconut milk, rich-smelling meat curries, and turtle and goat’s meat on a stick dunked in peanut sauce, the dalang started his wayang kulit.
Watching their eager faces, Broto knew that whatever the villagers saw on the screen, they would believe as though it were a real happening.
The people enjoyed the show immensely, laughing and crying in turn. Then the scene on the screen changed. Lacy shadows of the rubber trees and their houses in the village appeared. The crowd became silent.
Then the old man began working his thin leather puppets and Broto held the trees and houses in place. While the dalang maneuvered the figures and told a story, Broto felt bitter and revengeful.
Then the people saw the shadow of an old woman hobble past the trees. They recognized her and let out a long sigh. "A-h-h-h!"
The dalang made the old woman’s shadow fall and she appeared to drop a bundle. The villagers saw a great, hulking figure dash from the trees and pick up something and then run back into the trees.
Then the dalang turned off the lamp.
Amat jumped to his feet, exclaiming, "That’s ridiculous!"
Now the villagers realized who the large puppet represented, and they were angry.
Broto stepped from behind the screen. Two men held Amat. "You have been wronged, Broto. Tell us to, and we will drive Amat out of the village!" one of the men said.
Broto saw the fear in Amat’s eyes and he remembered the old dalang’s words. "No," Broto said. "If Amat returns the money to the old woman, she will forgive him, I am sure. And I also will forgive Amat that we may all live in peace together in our village."

“I guess I’m just a one-girl Primary now,” Bella said to Mum. The only other family with kids had moved away from their small branch in Australia. Now she was the only Primary-age kid left.
Mum gave Bella a hug. “That does sound a bit lonely.” Then she smiled. “At least I’m the Primary president, so you won’t get too lonely! Maybe you can talk with the branch president about the sacrament program.”
Bella laughed. “Dad is the branch president!”
“And he’s just coming in the door,” Mum said.
“What’s wrong, possum?” Dad asked Bella as he walked in.
“It’s time to get ready for the Primary program,” Bella said. “But now I’m the only one in our Primary.”
“We will do what we always do in our little branch,” Dad said in his most official-sounding voice. “We’ll all pitch in.”
And that was exactly what happened. First, Mum emailed some Primary leaders she knew in other countries. They sent videos of their Primary kids singing songs. “Now you can practice by singing along,” Mum said. Bella watched the videos and sang the songs every day. Seeing other kids enjoying the same songs she did helped Bella to feel less lonely.
Then a missionary couple serving in the branch found out Bella was getting ready for the program. “We’ll visit Primary each week to practice songs and talks with you and your mum,” they said. “And our grandchildren will send a video, so you can practice by singing with them too.”
The videos wouldn’t be used in sacrament meeting, so Bella would have to sing alone or have others sing with her. That was a bit scary, but all of the practicing helped Bella feel brave.
Soon a returned missionary who had served in the branch called Bella’s family. “I hear you’re planning a Primary program,” he said. “May I come?” A family who used to live in the branch and now lived in the outback also called. “We’ll come too!” they said.
On the day of the Primary program, the branch meetinghouse was nearly full. After the sacrament, Dad, as the branch president, introduced the program. Mum said a bit about Primary being a worldwide Church organization with more than a million children, of which Bella was one. “And a very special one,” Mum added.
Then Mum and Dad stood on one side of Bella, and the senior missionaries stood on the other. Bella gave a short talk about Jesus. Then Mum, Dad, and the missionaries joined her to sing a Primary song. Bella gave another short talk about Heavenly Father. Then the whole congregation sang a song together. Bella remembered the words because she had practiced so much. And when she sang with her parents, the missionaries, and the whole congregation, it felt like everyone was part of the Primary.
Soon the meeting was over. When they got home, Mum said, “Well, Bella, what did you think of our one-girl Primary program?”
“It was perfect!” Bella said. And she meant it.

Our son, Spencer, has tried to learn to fast since his baptism nearly two years ago. We have not made him feel he must fast at this young age. He may not fast as long as we do on some Sundays. In fast and testimony meeting some time ago, he whispered to me, “I think I’ll go up and bear my testimony.” I smiled and nodded my approval. His sincere testimony touched me. He was feeling something. So did I.

Case in point, in 1955, on a bus in Montgomery, Alabama, Rosa Parks refused to give up her seat to a White man. Rosa Parks was arrested. During that time, African Americans were relegated to sit at the back of the bus. If the bus was full and a White person entered and wanted to sit, an African American individual would have to stand. Shortly after her arrest, Black church leaders, exemplifying wisdom and bravery, started a boycott of the bus system to encourage more just public transportation policies. Scores of individuals in the Black community chose to walk and carpool instead of ride the bus. This action had major economic consequences on the bus line because African Americans represented 75 percent of their customers.
In response to the collective action of the Black community, two leaders of the boycott—Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and Reverend Ralph Abernathy—had their homes firebombed. A White Lutheran reverend named Robert Graetz, who served a Black congregation in Montgomery and who strongly supported the bus boycott, also had his home firebombed. Moreover, the city sued Martin Luther King Jr. and eighty-nine others in state court on the grounds that it was illegal to boycott the busing system. Dr. King was found guilty. Shortly after his guilty verdict, in 1956, 381 days after the start of the boycott, the United States Supreme Court upheld a district court’s ruling that Alabama’s racial segregation laws for buses were unconstitutional. The next day, Rosa Parks rode an integrated bus.

When I first joined the Church, my family was fine with it. But my friends cast a lot of doubts. They had researched the Church and believed a lot of false information about it. They called the Church a cult, told me that it was filled with lies and that I was crazy for joining it. But I knew in my heart that this Church is true. I don’t think anything can change that. And when I told my friends that I knew it was true, their comments turned to ridicule.
That night, I prayed for help with my friends. I didn’t want to lose them, but I didn’t want to be the subject of their ridicule any longer. After I said my prayer, I remember getting this distinct impression: “If these people are good friends of yours, then they will stick by you. They won’t mock you.” I followed that impression, and when things didn’t change, I let those friendships go, which was hard, but since then I have found great friends in the Church—friends who will stand by me, no matter what.

A veteran airline pilot may no longer be flying, but that won’t stop him from ministering to others on the ground.
On April 1 of 2024, Air Marshall Islands (AMI) held a surprise ceremony for Captain Albon “Al” Jelke at Amata Kabua International Airport in Majuro to commemorate his final flight as chief pilot for the national airline.
Brother Jelke, a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, was the longest-serving pilot in AMI’s history, with over 43 years of flight service. US Federal Aviation Administration regulations prevent pilots above 65 from flying commercially, a milestone Brother Jelke reached in April. He will remain with AMI as general manager, a post he’s held for over two years.
Strong emotions were displayed by his fellow employees at the ceremony on April 1, including president of the Marshall Islands, Hilda Heine, who honored Brother Jelke for his commitment and service. The admiration expressed by AMI employees and people on social media attests to his friendly nature and dedication.
“I’ve retired from flying but as the CEO/general manager of Air Marshall Islands, I can still fly as a passenger and minister to my people,” Brother Jelke said. “It just won’t be as frequent as when I was a pilot.”

As it turned out, we only had time for three more children. Our fourth child is Natalie. Since birth, her nickname has been Sunshine, and for good reason. She was born with strong mothering instincts. Natalie became like a second mom to our youngest two children just by her nature—it couldn’t be stopped. Because of that, the younger three came to be known as the “junior patrol,” in contrast to the older three, who I guess were the “senior patrol,” though they never used the term themselves. Natalie led Mandy and Benjamin in everything—club meetings, adventures, shows, chores—and they loved it. Talk about belonging! They felt it.

One night Angie and I were tired and sitting at the dinner table talking, and Natalie was doing the dishes because it was her turn. Exhausted, Angie turned to Natalie and, without thinking, asked, “Natalie, after you finish the dishes, will you put your kids to bed?”

Natalie was stunned, and then we all three started laughing together—well at least Angie and I were laughing. I am not sure Natalie was laughing, because of course they were not Natalie’s kids; they were ours. Oh how we love Natalie—the sunshine of our lives!

Once we understand what eternal life is, then all the rules and laws of life can become stepping-stones that lead us safely and surely to the divine presence. In contemplating such thoughts as these, I am reminded of the title of a book I read a few years ago, a title that touched me as deeply as did its contents. It was a book by Elie Wiesel, winner of the Nobel Peace Prize. It told of some of the great teachers of eastern European Judaism. The title was Somewhere a Master. In those three words I seemed to feel the universal longing of the human heart for one who is better and wiser than we are, one who can be a guide, friend, teacher, one we can learn from, be like, please, follow, and love. I later was fortunate enough to meet the author. When Mr. Wiesel delivered a forum lecture at BYU, I was invited to introduce him and had the chance to talk with him before his lecture. Because I had once studied at the Jewish Theological Seminary of America in New York, we had both some interests and some friends in common.

But I never met the man of whom he spoke with the greatest affection, Rabbi Saul Lieberman, probably the most gifted Talmud scholar in the world. He was already old when I was at the seminary and could devote only limited time to teaching a few advanced students. Elie Wiesel was one of these. He told me how he traveled to New York every month to meet with his master and how he studied the sacred words of their faith with him. Listening to a man who was himself a master, speaking reverently of his own master, was a moving and unforgettable experience.

The conversation reminded me anew that all learning, all laws, all ends, and all life are finally personal.

As an interpretive tour guide in Yushan National Park in Taiwan, Chén Yù Chuàn (Richard) is often assigned to escort important visitors around the park. Typically when he asks his guests what they would like to see, they want to go to the top of Yushan (Jade Mountain), the highest peak in northeast Asia at 12,966 feet (3,952 m).
Richard has a passion for nature and loves the beauty and majesty of Yushan. But through experience he has learned something important that he tries to share with his visitors: the spectacular view from above gains its real value only after one has experienced what’s below.
Visiting the peak, with its manmade trails and wonderful view, is a great experience, but Richard tries to explain that there is much to learn and much hidden beauty to find in the more difficult-to-access river gorges and canyons below.
“To appreciate the height, you must experience the bottom,” he says. “You can’t appreciate the end without understanding the process.”
Some of his visitors are persuaded; however, most just want to make it to the top—and they want the easiest way there.
Richard sees some spiritual symbolism in their attitudes. As he describes it, the peak of life’s experiences is to be able to return to God’s presence (see Alma 12:24). Yet while many recognize the value of that goal, some don’t realize that to be with Him, we must become like Him (see 1 John 3:2; 3 Nephi 27:27; Moroni 7:48). And there is no quick and easy path to that peak.
Richard doesn’t want to take visitors for just a walk; he wants to give them an experience. But he is limited in how much he can teach them by their level of desire.
“I can take those who want to experience nature to places that others rarely see,” he says. “Their experience may be more difficult, but it is much richer.”
Richard feels that life is no different, and his personal experiences reflect this principle. While a university student, Richard began a search for real purpose in life. He visited a number of churches without finding what he was searching for—until he met the missionaries.
His parents, however, strongly opposed his joining the Church. They worried about their only son leaving their faith. They also worried about what would become of them. Many in their culture believe that their standing in the afterlife depends heavily upon the veneration offered them by their living descendants.
Although he struggled with his parents’ opposition, Richard had gained a testimony of the Savior and the need to follow Him.
“Jesus Christ is the way,” Richard says. “He is the True Guide back to the Father” (see John 14:6).
He chose to follow the Savior and be baptized, trusting that the Lord would lead him down the right path even if it looked harder.
A week after his baptism, he was blessed with a good job as a radio news reporter for the largest broadcasting corporation in Taiwan. Getting the job pleased his parents, and along with the change for good they saw in him, it helped smooth ruffled feathers. It also strengthened his faith and taught him an important lesson.
“If we don’t follow Jesus Christ,” he says, “we will miss a lot of important experiences that we need.” These experiences may be more difficult, but they are necessary for our good (see 2 Nephi 2:2; D&C 122:7).
Anyone who follows Richard through his beloved gorges and valleys will undoubtedly learn that the mountains of Taiwan and its precipitous east coast were created by the collision of two plates in the earth’s crust. The intense heat and pressure created by that powerful force turned layers of sediment first to limestone, then to the marble for which the east coast is famous. That same unseen power shakes and grinds and buckles the earth, eventually sending mountain ranges soaring into the heavens.
Whether in Yushan or Taroko National Park, where he worked earlier, Richard loves to point out evidence of how the forces of nature formed Taiwan from the bottom up.
“There are ripple marks on the highest rock, and there are sea fossils and other evidence of what’s on top having once been at the bottom,” Richard says. “If you want to understand the summit, you must understand the depths, because that’s where the summit began.”
Richard believes this is important because it parallels the purpose of life. In difficult times it can seem like we aren’t just visitors to the mountain but more like the mountain itself, buffeted by forces and stresses that shape us and push us toward heaven if we can bear them with patience and faith (see Mosiah 23:21–22; D&C 121:7–8).
From his own experiences Richard has learned that we cannot rise up out of the world to reach our highest potential without undergoing uncomfortable, sometimes painful, experiences.
As a radio reporter Richard worked under considerable pressure covering a wide variety of topics on short deadlines. He soon learned that social drinking was an important way many reporters obtained information. Work became increasingly difficult because he refused to participate in the drinking.
The thought of finding a new job eased his conscience but not his challenges. His radio job had helped pacify his parents after he joined the Church. So when he left the high-paying, prestigious, full-time job for part-time contract work as a guide, his parents were disappointed for a time.
It was another difficult path to choose, but he doesn’t regret taking it because he knows that to be “exalted on high” (see D&C 121:7–8), we must first experience the lows (see D&C 122:5–7).
“We sometimes limit what God can make of us because we don’t want to experience the bad with the good,” he says.
Following the Lord led him to a job he enjoyed. It led him to serve a mission. It introduced him to his future wife, with whom he now has four beautiful children. Despite the trials, there has been no end to the blessings.
When discipleship leads through “the path of the low valley” (2 Nephi 4:32) and even “the valley of the shadow of death” (Psalm 23:4) on its way to “him who dwells on high” (D&C 1:1), Richard takes comfort in the promise that “the words of Christ, if we follow their course, [shall] carry us beyond this vale of sorrow into a far better land of promise” (Alma 37:45)—further confirmation to him that it is only after experiencing the challenges of life that we will be prepared to enjoy the summit.

Sue twisted the CTR ring on her finger. She was only half-listening to her teacher, Miss Williams, tell about when to indent for a new paragraph. Mostly she just looked at the back of Myrtle’s head. As usual, the girl’s faded red hair stuck out in tangles.
At least she could comb it, even if she doesn’t wash it, Sue thought.
Suddenly it seemed like her CTR ring pinched her finger. She turned it around and around, feeling the raised Choose the Right letters. She wished she knew if not choosing to do something right was as bad as choosing to do wrong. …
Just then Myrtle turned around and smiled at Sue. She was sure now that Myrtle wanted to be on her kickball team at recess.
Miss Williams placed the language book on her desk and walked to the door. The recess bell rang, and Sue lined up with the other fourth graders.
And who has a name like “Myrtle”? Maybe someone’s great-grandmother. Nobody Sue knew had such an old-fashioned name. Myrtle was new to their school, and she wore old, wrinkled dresses and funny shoes with socks that crept down under her heels. Because she moved around so much, she had been kept back a grade. So she was taller than every other kid in the fourth grade. She smiled a lot, tried hard to be friends with her classmates, and seemed not to recognize that they all wore clean, neat clothes and that they pretended not to see her when they chose sides for kickball games.
Sue tried to ignore her best friend, Maryann, who chattered at her side. She had to make up her mind what she was going to do. Ahead of her stood Myrtle, waiting for her at the drinking fountain, smiling.
In her head, Sue could hear Miss Williams telling how Myrtle’s family moved around a lot, how lonely she was, how much she needed a friend. As she got closer to Myrtle, Sue touched her CTR ring again.
Just as she got near Myrtle, Maryann pulled at Sue’s arm. “Sue! You haven’t listened to a word I’ve said!” she complained. “You have to pick Bradley and Rosie first!” She dragged Sue past Myrtle. “First, after me, of course!”
Sue stole a glance back at Myrtle. The new girl’s big blue eyes looked teary. Sue shook her head quickly to rid herself of the sad face behind her, then hurried outside to the field. This was her week as a team captain. She wanted to choose the best players. The other captain was Jason, who was in her Primary class.
When everyone was chosen, Myrtle was left standing. “Sorry, Myrtle,” Jason said. “I guess you’ll have to sit this one out. It’ll make the teams uneven, if you play.”
Sue looked away. Even Myrtle knew that all it would take was for someone on the other team to run twice. This is what Sister Marvin meant last Sunday when she reminded us to use our CTR rings to help us choose the right. But it’s Jason’s turn to choose, not mine. …
Later, at lunch, Sue and Maryann stood in the doorway, looking for good seats. Myrtle sat sideways, watching the doorway, her hand on the empty place beside her, saving a seat. She was looking directly at Sue, and she was smiling.
But Maryann said, “There’s Rosie and Jason! They’re waving to us!” Sue followed Maryann, avoiding Myrtle. She pretended not to see how Myrtle’s shoulders slumped downward as she turned around, taking her hand off the empty place beside her.
Sue had a pain in her chest all through lunch. She couldn’t help but notice that none of her classmates sat beside Myrtle. When Maryann made a rude remark about Myrtle and everyone else laughed, Sue was silent. She was thinking about how she would feel if the others laughed at her.
The next day Myrtle was again standing in the kickball line, waiting to be chosen. Sue was cross. Why doesn’t she just go swing, or do something with someone else? Why does she always stand there, waiting to be chosen for a game no one wants her to play? Again, Sue felt the pinch of her CTR ring. A little rhyme that her grandma had taught her flashed through her mind: “Kindness is a little thing, but lots of happiness it does bring.”
Sue squared her shoulders and stepped forward to make her first choice. Even though she always chose Maryann first, Sue looked at Myrtle and smiled—really smiled—and declared, “I choose Myrtle.”
Over Maryann’s wail of disappointment and the murmurs of surprise from her other classmates, Sue stood firm. With a really happy smile, Myrtle stepped close beside Sue. When everyone was chosen and someone on Jason’s team had been picked to run twice, the game began.
Sue’s team was up first. She was determined to make this work, so she chose Myrtle to kick first. Myrtle lowered her shoulders, drew back her right leg, and kicked the ball squarely into the weeds at the back of the outfield. As she ran around the bases, everyone in the fourth grade, even Jason’s team, chanted her name. “Hurray for Myrtle! Run, Myrtle, run!”
And when she pounded into home, every fourth grader on both teams was clapping for her.
Maryann went over to her. “You did great, Myrtle!” she said. “No one has ever kicked a ball that far before!”
Myrtle grinned and took her place at the end of the line. Sue smiled at Myrtle, wishing she had congratulated Myrtle first. She held up her thumb. “Good job!”
When Sue’s team went out to the field, Myrtle was the one who seemed to catch every ball. Suddenly Myrtle was everyone’s best friend.
Three weeks later, Myrtle did not show up for school on Monday morning.
“Where is Myrtle?” everyone asked.
Miss Williams looked sad. “Myrtle’s family moved away. She will not be coming to this school again.”
Sue looked down at her CTR ring. She did not want anyone to see her cry. She was sorry Myrtle had moved away, but she was glad that she had been a friend. She wished that she had been quicker to listen to the promptings of the Holy Ghost. Still, she had chosen to be a friend. And inside, she felt like smiling—just like Myrtle did.

We had a lesson in Primary about studying the scriptures and being a good example to our friends. I learned one reason why this is so important. I live in a small town where thousands of Latter-day Saints come to visit each year—Nauvoo, Illinois. My sister and I are the only LDS students in our school, St. Peter and Paul School. It is just a few blocks from the original Nauvoo Temple site. Ever since the reconstruction of the temple was announced by President Hinckley in April 1999, people have talked a lot about it and about the Church. All the kids in school know I’m LDS, and sometimes it is uncomfortable when we talk about religion in class. But we all believe in Jesus, so when my teacher asked us, “What is a missionary?” I raised my hand. “A missionary is someone who spends all his time teaching about Jesus and serving people,” I said. My teacher was impressed with my answer.
Later that week, we were talking about Jesus and she asked, “Who baptized Jesus and where was He baptized?” I knew from my scripture study that John the Baptist had baptized the Savior and that it took place in the River Jordan. I was happy to be able to raise my hand again and answer her question. I felt like a good example, and I know that my scripture study paid off.
Bryce Capener, age 7Nauvoo, Illinois

Susan, baptized into the Church at age 28, had always lived the law of chastity. “My parents had integrity and expected me to have high moral standards, to be honest and chaste, so I just did it,” says Susan, who was raised in the midwestern United States. “Now I realize I was responding to the light of Christ. I never dated a Latter-day Saint until I met Tom. When I heard the gospel, I was glad I had never given in to sexual temptation. Later, Tom and I were married in the Salt Lake Temple. One year later our baby daughter died at birth. We were devastated but grateful we had been worthy to be sealed in the temple when we were first married. Knowing that our baby was born in the covenant brought us understanding and peace.”
Susan and Tom still live in the Midwest after 24 years of marriage and five children. “Several of our friends and cousins have divorced,” says Tom. “We have had our share of financial and family challenges, yet we both want to be true to our temple covenants, so we just work things out.”

In our own family, we have had such an experience with wonderful, watchful priesthood leaders. When I was first called to the Seventy some years ago, we were assigned to move to Solihull, England, to serve in the Area Presidency. Sister Rasband and I took our two youngest children with us on this assignment. Our daughter was a young single adult and our son a 17-year-old who liked American-style football and played it very well. We were very concerned about them. No friends, no extended family, and no American football! I wondered, “Would this exciting new experience prove to be a serious trial for our family?”
The answer came in an early assignment I received. I had been asked to speak to the missionaries at the Missionary Training Center in Preston, England. I called President White of the center and was pleased to hear that he knew of my family situation. He suggested we include our children on our visit to Preston. Once we were there, he even invited our daughter and son to speak to the missionaries! What a thrill for them to be and feel included and share their testimonies of the Lord’s work!
When finished and after tender good-byes to those missionaries, we visited the beautiful Preston England Temple, which was close to the Missionary Training Center. As we walked near the front door, there stood President and Sister Swanney, the temple president and matron. They greeted us and welcomed us into the temple with, “Elder Rasband, how would you and your family like to perform baptisms for the dead?” What a wonderful idea! We looked at each other and gratefully accepted. After performing the ordinances and while my son and I were still in the font with tears of joy in our eyes, he put his hand on my shoulder and asked, “Dad, why haven’t we ever done this before?”
I thought of all the football games, all the movies we had attended together, all of the good times we had shared—certainly happy memories and traditions that are so important to build.
However, I realized we had an opportunity to add more meaningful spiritual experiences with our children like what we had experienced in Preston that day. Thanks to those caring and observant priesthood leaders, I knew then that our family was going to do fine in Europe. How grateful we are for the many priesthood and Young Women leaders who have always been watchful and loving to our children and yours.

by Neal Rackleff
When Scouts from the Vista Fifth Ward, Vista California Stake, were invited to participate in a treasure hunt, they knew from the start they wouldn’t be returning from the hills with mounds of gold. But if they were lucky, they would play a part in unraveling a mystery, and that was incentive enough.
Under the guidance of a researcher investigating the location of the Lost Dutchman Mine, they traveled into the Superstition Mountains near Mesa, Arizona, and spent several days visiting old campsites and learning about the history of the southwestern United States.
Like Indiana Jones digging for clues, they pored over local legends and folklore, studying about men who gave all they had to the search for gold. They also learned something much more profound—that a person can waste his whole life searching for worldly wealth instead of grasping the eternal treasures of the gospel.
“We learned to appreciate the beauty of the mountains,” said Harry Bakken. “It’s a treasure in its own right.”
“And we learned that when it’s hot in the desert, you’d rather have water than gold,” said Kenneth Weeks, the senior patrol leader.
The Scouts were also able to use the activity for fellowshipping, by inviting along a non-LDS friend.