Gospel Story Finder

I recall a very disturbing conversation I had years ago with a young man in a South American airport, where we were both delayed by late airplanes.
His hair was long and his face bearded, his glasses large and round. Sandals were on his feet, and his clothing gave the appearance of total indifference to any generally accepted standard of style.
But he was earnest and evidently sincere. He was educated and thoughtful, a graduate of a great North American university. Without employment and financially supported by his father, he was traveling through South America.
What was he after in life? I asked. “Peace and freedom” was his immediate response. Did he use drugs? Yes, they were one of his means to obtain the peace and freedom he sought. Discussion of drugs led to discussion of morals. He talked about the new morality that gave so much more freedom than any previous generation had ever known.
He had learned in our opening introductions that I was a churchman; and he let me know, in something of a condescending way, that the morality of my generation was something to be laughed at. Then with earnestness he asked how I could honestly defend personal virtue and moral chastity. I shocked him a little when I declared that his freedom was a delusion, that his peace was a fraud, and that I would tell him why.
I have thought much of that discussion and others like it that I have held over the years. Today there are persons numbered in the millions who, in a search for freedom from moral restraint, have opened the way to practices that enslave and corrupt. These practices, if left unchecked, will not only destroy these individuals but also the nations of which they are a part.
I remember thinking of this freedom and this peace when I faced a young man and a young woman across the desk of my office. He was handsome, tall, and manly. She was a beautiful girl, an excellent student, sensitive and perceptive.
The girl sobbed, and tears fell from the eyes of the young man. Both were university students. They were to be married the next week, but not in the kind of wedding of which they had dreamed. They had planned that to come three years in the future, following college graduation.
Now they found themselves in a situation that both regretted and for which neither was prepared. She was pregnant. Shattered were their dreams of schooling, the years of preparation they knew each needed for the competitive world that lay ahead. Rather, they would now have to establish a home, and he would have to support his family with whatever work he could find.
The young man looked up through his tears. “We allowed ourselves to be led astray,” he said.
“We’ve cheated one another,” she responded. “We’ve cheated one another and the parents who love us—and we’ve cheated ourselves. We were betrayed. We believed those who told us that virtue is hypocrisy; and we’ve found that the new morality, the idea that sin is only in one’s mind, is a trap that’s destroyed us.”
They spoke of a thousand thoughts that had crossed their minds in the fearful days and the anxious nights of the past few weeks. Should she seek an abortion? The temptation to do so was there. No, never, she had concluded. Life is sacred under any circumstance. How could she ever live with herself is she took measures to destroy the gift of life even under these conditions?
The child could be placed for adoption. There were excellent organizations that could assist in such a program, and there were good families anxious for children. But they had dismissed that thought. Whatever happened, he would never leave her to face the burden alone. He was responsible, and he would meet that responsibility even though it would ruin the future of which he had dreamed.
I admired his courage, his determination to make the best of a difficult situation; but my heart ached as I watched them, distressed and sobbing. Here was tragedy. Here was heartbreak. Here was entrapment. Here was bondage.
They had been told of freedom, that evil was only a thing of the mind. But they found they had lost their freedom. Nor had they known peace. They had exchanged their peace and their freedom—the freedom to marry when they chose to marry, the freedom to secure the education of which they had dreamed, and, more important, the peace of self-respect.
The young man I met at the airport might have challenged my story by saying that this couple was not smart. If they had used birth control devices available to them, they would not have found themselves in this sorry situation.
I would have replied that their situation is far from unique and that it is daily growing more critical.
Can there be peace in the heart of any person, can there be freedom in the life of one who has been left only misery as the bitter fruit of indulgence?
Can anything be more false or dishonest than gratification of passion without acceptance of responsibility?
I remember seeing in Korea the tragic aftermath of war in the thousands of orphans born of Korean mothers and soldier fathers. These abandoned children became creatures of sorrow, unwanted, the result of a miserable tide of immorality.
This also happened in Vietnam where tens of thousands of fatherless children were abandoned. Peace and freedom? There can be neither for anyone who has wantonly indulged nor for those left as the innocent and tragic victims of lust.
Certain kinds of men are prone to gloat over their immoral conquests. What a cheap and tarnished victory. There is no conquest in gloating, only self-deception and a miserable fraud. The only conquest that brings satisfaction is the conquest of self. It was said of old that he who governs himself is greater than he who takes a city. (See Prov. 16:32.)
Self-discipline was never easy. I do not doubt that it is more difficult today. We live in a sex-saturated world. I am convinced that many of our youth, and many older but no less gullible adults, are victims of the persuasive elements which surround them—the pornographic literature which has become a multi-million-dollar-a-year business, seductive movies and television shows that excite and give approval to promiscuity, dress standards that invite familiarity, governmental decisions that destroy legal restraint, parents who often unwittingly push the children they love toward situations they later regret.
A wise writer has observed that “a new religion is emerging throughout the world, a religion in which the body is the supreme object of worship to the exclusion of all other aspects of existence.
“We have bartered holiness for convenience, … wisdom for information, joy for pleasure, tradition for fashion” (Abraham Joshua Heschel, The Insecurity of Freedom, New York: Schocken Books, 1966, page 200).
Nakedness or near nakedness has become the hallmark of much public entertainment. It reaches beyond this into the realm of sadistic perversion.
Can there be any reasonable doubt that in sowing the wind of a sex-saturated world, we are reaping the whirlwind of decay?
We need to read more history. Nations and civilizations have developed, then died, poisoned by their own moral sickness.
As the bud develops and grows, so does the blossom. Youth is the time to plant for the future flowering of family life. No nation, no civilization can long endure without strength in the homes and lives of its people. That strength comes from the integrity of those who live in those homes.
No family can have peace, no life can be free from the storms of adversity unless that family and that home are built on foundations of morality, fidelity, and mutual respect. There cannot be peace where there is not trust; there cannot be freedom where there is not loyalty.
To hope for peace and love and gladness out of promiscuity is to hope for that which will never come. To wish for freedom out of immorality is to wish for something that cannot be. Said the Savior, “Whosoever committeth sin is the servant of sin” (John 8:34).
The prophet of the Lord, President Ezra Taft Benson, has clearly spoken on these matters:
“The Book of Mormon warns us of the tactics of the adversary in the last day: ‘And others will he pacify, and lull them away into carnal security, that they will say: All is well in Zion; yea, Zion prospereth, all is well—and thus the devil cheateth their souls, and leadeth them away carefully down to hell’ (2 Ne. 28:21).
“There are many ‘awake’ passages in the Book of Mormon, such as: ‘O that ye would awake; awake from a deep sleep, yea, even from the sleep of hell …
“‘Awake [and] put on the armor of righteousness. Shake off the chains with which ye are bound, and come forth out of obscurity, and arise from the dust’ (2 Ne. 1:13, 23).
“The plaguing sin of this generation is sexual immorality. This, the Prophet Joseph Smith said, would be the source of more temptations, more buffetings, and more difficulties for the elders of Israel than any other. (See Journal of Discourses, 8:55.)
“President Joseph F. Smith said that sexual impurity would be one of the three dangers that would threaten the Church within—and so it does. (See Gospel Doctrine, pages 312–13.) It permeates our society” (General Conference, April 1986).
Is there a valid case for virtue in our world? It is the only way to freedom from regret. The peace of conscience which comes is the only personal peace that is not counterfeit.
And beyond all of this is the unfailing promise of God to those who walk in virtue. Declared Jesus of Nazareth, speaking on the mountain, “Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God” (Matt. 5:8). That is a covenant, made by him who has the power to fulfill.
And again, the voice of modern revelation speaks a promise—an unmatched promise that follows a simple commandment:
“Let virtue garnish thy thoughts unceasingly.” And here is the promise: “Then shall thy confidence wax strong in the presence of God … The Holy Ghost shall be thy constant companion, … and thy dominion shall be an everlasting dominion, and without compulsory means it shall flow unto thee forever and ever” (D&C 121:45–46).
I know of no greater promise made by God to man than this promise made to those who let virtue garnish their thoughts unceasingly.
I assure you that this can be a world of freedom in which the spirit of mankind might grow to undreamed-of glory, a world of peace—the peace of clear conscience, of pure love, of fidelity, of unfailing trust and loyalty.
This may appear an unattainable dream for the world. But for each member of this church it can be a reality, and the world will become so much the richer and the stronger for the virtue of our individual lives.
God bless each of us to realize this freedom, to know this peace, to gain this blessing. As a servant of the Lord, I promise you that if you will sow in virtue, you will reap in gladness now and in all years yet to come.
Many people mistakenly search for freedom and peace by abandoning moral restraints, says President Hinckley. But their thought and actions only enslave them in sorrow.
Peace of conscience is the only personal peace that is not counterfeit.
Virtue and mutual respect pave the way to freedom from regret.

It was a beautiful day, so I decided to ride my bike to the ward barbecue. I wouldn’t be able to stay long because I had cross-country practice. As I was getting ready to go, the idea of taking some peanut butter crackers crossed my mind. How silly, I thought, I’m going to a ward barbecue. I don’t need to take any food.
As I pedaled to the barbecue, I again thought I should’ve packed some peanut butter crackers. Too late now. Soon I was at the park waiting for the food to be ready. I waited and waited and waited. By now my stomach was growling, and I was getting hungrier by the minute. But I couldn’t wait any longer; it was time for practice, and I had to leave. I wished I had those crackers.
When practice was over, I pedaled back to the barbecue, wanting desperately to eat. I made it to the park just as people were driving off. Please let there be food left! I scrambled trying to find leftovers. Hamburgers! Yes, there were some left! I slapped some meat on a bun and devoured my cold burger.
As I took another a bite, I had a new thought: Heavenly Father cares about me. He was trying to send a message that would have helped me. It’s miraculous, really, all the ways we are watched over. To have the Spirit’s guidance is an amazing blessing, even if it’s a simple thought like taking peanut butter crackers.
Angela T., Washington, USA

In a speech Elder James A. Cullimore gave at BYU, he related an experience once told by religious writer Harleigh M. Rosenberger:
Several years ago a man was being interviewed on the radio. He had started to walk across the United States on foot, from California to New York. He had reached a point halfway across. Reporters asked him about his experience. Finally the question came: “Sir, what would you say has been your most difficult experience so far?”
The traveler thought long. Through his mind went the toilsome climb over mountain passes; hot dry stretches of desert. Sun. Wind. Then he said quietly, “I guess my greatest problem was that the sand kept getting into my shoes.”
So that was it. The sand in his shoes. Not some great crisis that he had faced. Not some danger that had almost taken his life. But sand; sand that wore blisters on the soles of his feet. Sand that ground its way into the pores of his skin and irritated constantly, that made every step an agony. Sand in his shoes. . . .
. . . Now there was one hint that the hiker suggested when the sand got into his shoes. He had to stop and dump the sand from them.13

We need more such attitudes in the world. There is the story of the husband and wife who had saved and saved for a new car. After taking delivery, the husband told his wife that all the necessary legal documents and insurance information were in a packet in the glove compartment. On her first day out in the new car, she was involved in an accident, which demolished the front end of the car. Unhurt, in tears, and near panic, she opened the packet to show the police officer her papers. There she found a handwritten note from her husband which read: “Now that you have had an accident, remember I can always replace the car, but not you. Please know how much I love you!”

When Isaac was five years old, his grandfather, who was visiting from Mexico, gave him a chess set and taught him the rules of the game. Isaac caught on so quickly that he was soon competing in tournaments. At first he wasn’t taken seriously. “We went to tournaments, and they thought he was too small,” his mother, Astrid, remembers. “No one wanted to play with him.” Now tournament organizers from several states know him and welcome him.

As a teenager, I was a slacker. I didn’t like commitment and my focus was on having fun. I did poorly in school and paid little attention in church. My low ideals stood out like my long hair. That was my status in life when my Young Men’s leader, John Galbraith, began to encourage us young men to be our “best self.” His enthusiasm for life, as well as his success stories, caught my attention and I began thinking seriously about where I was going with my life. Later, during my senior year, a teacher basically called me out for being a slacker. I decided then and there that I needed to change. That decision quickly evolved into a commitment to be true to myself and to God. At that time, I did not know the Church was true but became determined to find out. Over the next 18 months I read the Book of Mormon, pondered, and prayed sincerely about it. I did my best to exercise faith and eventually received an undeniable confirmation from the Spirit that it is true. I felt like I had begun running in the race of life!

When we respect the confidences granted us, our friends can speak of their inner feelings or reach out for help. Marie and Heather shared this kind of trust. Heather had four children and demanding home responsibilities. Marie was often prompted by the Spirit to call just when Heather needed to confide. Heather said, “I couldn’t hide my feelings from her question, ‘How are you doing?’ I’d cry and explain, and she would listen, and I’d feel better. I knew my words would go no further. I thank the Lord for Marie.”

In 2015 an Area Seventy visited Mongolia and provided training concerning the public affairs efforts of the Church. Odgerel Ochirjav, president of the Ulaanbaatar Mongolia West Stake, was unsure how to proceed. Then in January 2016 his brother-in-law called and said, “I was watching Mongolia’s Got Talent. … I had a strong impression that your Church choir should participate.”
President Ochirjav discussed the idea with the choir director, Sister Unurjargal Purev. She and the choir members were enthusiastic about the possibility. The choir became known as Zion, or “SION,” an acronym in Mongolian for spirit, faith, mind, and unity.
For the first round of the competition in March 2016, SION peformed a mash-up of two songs. One judge said, “I see your faces light up! … We need to put your video on YouTube to showcase this show to the world.”
Another judge asked the choir what they would do if they won the grand prize of U.S. $50,000. He was impressed when they said they wanted to donate it all, as a special Christmas gift, to an orphanage.
Of the 400 participants, SION was among the 200 who advanced to the second round, but their performance was scheduled for the same day as a multi-stake youth conference, which involved half of the 35 choir members. The choir decided to go to the second round, so they hired a bus and, following their performance, traveled eight hours to the youth conference.
Of the 200 acts, SION was among the 32 to advance to the semi-finals. The choir began to be featured on social media related to Mongolia’s Got Talent.
They practiced from June to September to prepare for the semi-finals. On the day of the performance, they woke up at 4:00 a.m. in -29 degrees F (-34 degrees C) weather. Sister Nomuungerel Enkhtuvshin, a choir member, said, “Many members of our group caught a cold. But they got better as we prayed for them.”
People throughout Mongolia viewed the show and texted in their votes.
Brother Shijir Purevdorj said, “As a result of this TV show, many people are cultivating a positive attitude toward the Church.”
Choir members themselves also received blessings. Brother Odgerel Tumursukh said, “We devoted our attention and time for a whole year while managing our jobs and other facets of our lives. Although it was difficult, we have received many blessings. I have learned to manage my time and make sacrifices for the Lord.”
In addition to increasing their faith, members of the choir gained self-confidence, developed friendships, and learned unity. “Singing in the choir has helped us to learn how to forgive and support one another,” said Brother Ganbaatar Ulziiduuren. “We have become more united.” Sister Bilguunzaya Tungalagtuul learned “that I should never doubt myself or think that I can’t do something.”
Brother Bayartsogt Lhagvajav said, “Singing in the choir has brought many blessings to my family, and it also helped me to receive the answers I was seeking for some time. Our leaders offered us solution[s]. … It has affirmed my testimony that our leaders are called of God.”
“When I participated in Mongolia’s Got Talent,” Sister Onon Dalaikhuu explained, “I learned that encouraging and supporting each other [was the] key to [our] success.” Sister Dalaikhuu’s responsibilities included organizing crew members, which helped strengthen her leadership abilities. She added, “We felt that [the] Lord guided and influenced us. Many of us were sick, busy, tired, and feeling overwhelmed. However, when we prayed together, somehow we would find more power and desire to endure.”
Although the choir didn’t receive enough votes to move on to the finals, their performances gave the Church significant exposure throughout Mongolia. President Ochirjav explains, “We were obedient to an assignment by our priesthood leaders, and the Lord prepared a way. … Now the whole city [Ulaanbaatar] talks about the Mormon choir’s participation in Mongolia’s Got Talent.”

I spent three years in that ward where I had initially felt so uncomfortable. My last 18 months were a wonderful, fulfilling time. Sometimes I faced difficult trials, but I also felt an assurance that the Lord was mindful of me and that the painful experiences were for my growth.
By the time I left that ward, I not only felt loved, I also felt trusted and honored by the members there. I had had many humbling, spiritual experiences as well as opportunities to serve, to speak, and to teach. The ward had become a cherished family.
Julie remains a dear friend. Her gift for radiating light continues to touch my life and the lives of many others. Her example showed me how to reach for the Savior, the source of the light. And this has given me the means to lift and love and comfort many people. I believe that if I continue to progress, someday I, too, will be filled with his love and receive his image in my countenance.

In January of 1985, when I was employed as a part-time teacher in the Provo Missionary Training Center, I attended a small meeting for the teachers in our MTC zone. At the start of this meeting one of the teachers gave a spiritual thought. He was older than most of us, a graduate student, and married with a few small children. He shared with us the details of his struggle to raise his personal bar of righteousness as it pertained to Sabbath observance.

He spoke of his love of televised sports and of his habit of watching Sunday football games. With great emotion he told of how this habit had been highly detrimental to the spirit in his home; how he had let down his wife and toddler children who would rather have his undivided attention on this sacred day. He then lit up and told of how he had quit watching Sunday games three months earlier and of the great peace and joy he and his family had experienced in the ensuing months as he instead used the time in more uplifting activities--like reading to his children, playing appropriate games and going on walks together as a family, working on his church calling, and discussing goals and making plans with his wife. Then, likening his experience to a course in school, he said that his "final exam" was being held during the coming weekend--on Super Bowl Sunday--and how he was looking forward to passing this test with flying colors. Key to his success was a change in attitude, where he and his wife focused on engaging in the countless appropriate "DO's" of Sabbath observance rather than pining for a few worldly "DON'Ts." Through this experience he learned that keeping the Sabbath holy was not a burden, but a blessing, for truly, "The sabbath was made for man, and not man for the Sabbath."[7]

I had dreamed of this day. Like the other candidates for homecoming queen, I was nominated and voted upon, and then I waited anxiously for that unforgettable night. The final six candidates were to dress up in something professional or in their Sunday best for the football game, where the king and queen would be announced. The other candidates wore dresses that came up way above their knees and revealed too much skin. I wore my puletasi (a traditional Samoan evening gown) that dangled at my ankles and covered my shoulders. I received many compliments from teachers, parents, and even students on how well I was dressed.
Finally, the moment came. The announcer introduced the candidates, including what their biggest accomplishments were. I remember listening to a very specific part of my introduction: “Jalaire is a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Her biggest accomplishment was completing her Personal Progress, which is a prestigious award similar to the Eagle Scout.”
At that moment, I forgot all about what was going on and realized how fortunate I was to be raised in the Church. Shocked and overwhelmed when they called my name as the homecoming queen, I made my way to the middle of the field, where the crown was placed on top of my head. That night I realized that it wasn’t about the crown. I felt like a queen because I had dressed modestly. When we faithfully live the gospel and beautify our lives and help others strive to do the same, we feel like royalty and live up to our divine potential.

A final example of the dedication that acts on the basis of this ethic rather than on the suggestion of a cost-benefit analysis is found in the life of Matthew Cowley. He had been attending the Latter-day Saint University in Salt Lake City, but as he finished his freshman year, he decided he did not want to return to school the next year; he wanted to go on a mission instead. He was only seventeen years old, but he was called and was soon on his way to New Zealand to work with the Maoris.
In his diary Elder Cowley tells how his best companions there were fleas, since they so faithfully stayed close to him. Here is one entry from that diary:
“After Karakia (prayer) was held in the evening, I went to my room, and before going to bed I fortified myself against the fleas. I rubbed flea powder all over my body and put a layer of it in the bed. I trust that will stupefy them. … On arising and looking in the bed [the next morning], I found the carcasses of a multitude of fleas, and it made me feel like Napoleon to be the victor of such a battle.”8
Elder Cowley had to learn the language from scratch, of course, and during the first three months he was without a companion. He went to a grove every morning at six o’clock to study the gospel and the language and to fast and pray. There he would remain for eleven hours each day. Within three months he was able to stand before a group of natives and preach the gospel in their tongue, and, as he says, “There was a burning in my bosom the like of which I have never felt before or since in my life.”

Being introduced to the responsibility of home teaching at such an early age made me feel like I was special, and it helped me to feel the Spirit. One of the people we home taught was a widow who lived alone. She struggled with various medical problems and always appreciated our visits and our company. Knowing that we were there to bring her happiness and to bring the priesthood into her home was a witness to me of how important our responsibility is.

You have the unique blessing of serving in a Church calling at a very young age. Leadership opportunities abound in young single adult and young married stakes. While serving as a stake and ward leader on campus, I enjoyed associating with fellow students who were faithful in their Church service while being diligent in their secular studies. I observed that the more attention students gave to serving faithfully, the more successful they were in their studies. I learned intimately how our Heavenly Father guides and directs us in ways beyond our abilities and capabilities. I learned to never doubt that I was called by the Lord. Being “willing to take upon [ourselves] the name of [Jesus Christ], and always remember him and keep his commandments” will invoke the covenant promise to “always have his Spirit to be with [us]." [16]

I recall an accounting professor inviting me into his office. In a very kind and loving way, he said, “Aley, your work in my class is mediocre. I know you can do much better. The Lord expects it.” He then expressed his appreciation, love, and counsel. I felt the Holy Ghost testify to me that what he said was true. I left his office feeling uplifted, not hurt or discouraged. His approach was an example of gentleness, meekness, love unfeigned, and kindness. [17] Not only did he change my life to be a better student, he also changed my life to serve more faithfully and diligently as a disciple.

In 1839 Rebecca’s father died. Just three years later she lost her husband. Despite these painful difficulties, Rebecca’s faith and courage endured. When the Saints trekked west to Utah, she traveled with her son Ezra’s family and drove her own team. She later took charge of a farm on Mill Creek. When the Salt Lake Tabernacle was completed and the Saints were asked to donate what they could, she gave a set of silver spoons to be used in making trays for the sacrament table. And finally in 1860, though she was very frail, when President Brigham Young called upon her family to settle in remote Cache Valley, Utah, she willingly relocated once more—again driving her own team.

Molly could never wait for something to happen. She did all she could to make something happen quickly.
Most of the time Molly’s impatience did not get her into serious trouble. She was just in the habit of hurrying with everything she did.
One day Molly’s teacher, Miss Raymond, said, “Class, your project this month concerns a member of this classroom. How many of you have noticed that Naryana isn’t at school today?”
Ten sixth-grade hands waved above Molly’s head. Molly hadn’t noticed, but, then, she hadn’t paid any special attention to Naryana.
“Naryana Ranjappa is Indian,” Miss Raymond said as she pulled down their geography map. “But she is not an American Indian. She is from India.” Molly watched Miss Raymond place her long pointer on a country across the Arabian Sea and to the east of Africa. “Naryana was born in India and for a short time lived in England. From there she moved to our city here in the United States.”
“Wow!” Howard Higgins said. “She’s come a long way!”
“And she is not happy here,” Miss Raymond continued. “You must have noticed how sad she is. That is a problem we might be able to help her solve. What can we do to make her smile and be happy?”
“Miss Raymond?” Molly wiggled at her desk until her teacher called on her.
“Yes, Molly?”
“Miss Raymond, I have an idea to make Naryana feel more at home. Why couldn’t we have an Indian festival with something about the customs of her country?”
“That’s a wonderful idea, Molly,” their teacher answered, and all the students agreed.
Looking at her class, Miss Raymond said thoughtfully, “If you like the festival idea, you’ll have to find out about Indian customs without telling Naryana. Perhaps if we surprise her it will bring a smile to her face.”
All the children liked the idea and began working right away. The different ways of this country on the other side of the world made them want to learn more and more about it.
Janice checked out from the library a large picture book about India with photographs of people and animals wandering through narrow, crowded streets. Howard brought a calendar picture of an Indian girl who had a red mark on her forehead. She was wearing a beautiful yellow silk dress called a sari. The whole class learned about India in small groups, at recess, or after school without Naryana discovering their surprise.
Naryana was tiny for her age when compared to her classmates. Most of the time she sat quietly staring down at her desk.
The night before the festival many of the children stayed after school and helped decorate the room. They swirled and curled brightly colored designs with poster paint. They hoped that the decorated elephant, the model of the Taj Mahal, and the traditional welcome of fresh fruit and flowers would all help to bring a smile to Naryana’s face. The children felt the excitement grow as the room took on a festive look.
The next morning everyone came to school early. The boys and girls stood silently around the room waiting for Naryana to come to class.
Within a few minutes Naryana walked into the room. Her eyes widened with surprise. She looked at the decorations and at the boys and girls and they looked at her. Would she smile? they wondered.
Molly carefully led Naryana to the center of the room. As she looked around at the colorful decorations from her native land, Naryana smiled. But Molly noticed that it was a sad kind of a smile. It pushed at her cheeks, but it did not change her face as they had hoped it would. The festival began as fruits, nuts, and flowers appeared as if by magic. One of the girls played “Song of India” on the piano and Miss Raymond read Kipling’s poem “Rikki Tikki Tavi” to them. They ate, sang, and laughed while sitting on the floor in traditional Indian fashion.
It was a wonderful festival, but Molly was not satisfied. She had hoped for a wide, happy smile from Naryana, but only a shy, little smile had lighted the face of the girl from India.
Later at home, Molly decided that the fruit and colorful designs at school had meant little to Naryana. She wanted to make her happy but would have to do it in another way. Molly tried to think of something really special that she could do for Naryana. She looked around her bedroom, wondering if she might give her a gift. Molly saw her brush and comb set, her stuffed giraffe, and her dolls, but nothing seemed to be suitable.
Molly finally decided to go over to Naryana’s house. Maybe I can cheer her up, she thought. As she ran up the walk Molly suddenly stopped. Naryana was sitting alone on her front steps with her eyes searching the ground.
“Hello, Naryana,” Molly said with a cheery voice.
Startled, Naryana looked up but she didn’t smile. “You’re Molly aren’t you?” she asked.
“Yes,” Molly answered, surprised that Naryana knew her name. Naryana invited Molly into her house. The rich-looking brass ornaments and brightly woven fabrics decorating the walls were beautiful. As the girls went back to Naryana’s bedroom, Molly caught the pleasant smell of spices and perfume that filled the hall.
Naryana had twin beds in her room and Molly immediately noticed two photographs hanging on the wall between them. They were pictures that looked like Naryana but not the girl Molly knew. Each of these pictures showed a face that was bright-eyed and happy.
“I’m the one on the right,” Naryana explained, “and the other one is Shani, my sister. We are identical twins.”
“But where is she?” Molly asked.
“In Devonshire, England. We left her there with relatives, because she was too ill to come here with us.”
Molly watched Naryana’s eyes fill with tears and her chin begin to quiver as she talked.
“Shani had a bad accident and can not be moved until she is better.”
“Naryana, we didn’t know you had a twin sister in England. Miss Raymond didn’t tell us.” Suddenly, Molly knew how she could make Naryana happy. It might take weeks, but it would be worth every bit of time and trouble.
It was hard for Molly to keep a secret, but she didn’t tell anybody about her plan for over a month. When she was sure she couldn’t keep the surprise any longer, a package arrived from her brother.
After lunch that day, Molly came flying breathlessly into the classroom, carrying a package and her family’s tape recorder. She went straight up to Miss Raymond’s desk and whispered something to her.
“Oh, Molly! Yes, of course,” she said. “Let’s play it right now.”
Miss Raymond called the class to order. They all felt the excitement of something about to happen.
“Molly has a wonderful surprise for us.” Miss Raymond announced.
Everyone sat quietly when Molly stood up proudly and said, “You may know that my brother is on a mission in southern England. Well, I wrote to him several weeks ago and asked him to do me a favor.”
Molly glanced back at Naryana and saw her raise her head and watch attentively as Molly continued, “He sent me this tape and I want to play it for you now.”
She turned on the recorder and a sweet voice began speaking, “Dear Naryana and Miss Raymond’s sixth-grade class: It is raining here in Devon, and the flowers and bushes outside my bedroom window seem to grow with each raindrop even though we are well into fall. I want to tell you that Doctor Hardwell says I am slowly getting better …”
From then on the tape from Shani was a treat for everyone. On previous occasions, Naryana’s rare smiles never quite filled her face, but now she was beaming when she heard her sister’s words filled with hope.
For Naryana and for them all this voice was a miraculous bridge over time and two continents.
For Molly, it was a lesson in friendship and patience. Sometimes, Molly decided, best things do come from waiting.

Sometimes the Holy Ghost will give us a warning, a loving chastisement, if you will, that can also serve as a witness to us of the love of Jesus Christ. I recall just such an experience. I had been a bishop of our ward in Payson for a little over five years when a young man who was graduating from Primary and entering the Young Men’s organization came into my office. I knew this 12-year-old. You see he was only 7 when I first became his bishop. From the time he was 7 years old until he was 12—well, let’s just say that he presented a challenge to his teachers. He came into the office and I remember very distinctly thinking to myself, “Oh, so I have an appointment with ——. I wonder if he will sit still while I talk to him. I hope he grows up soon. I don’t know how he can possibly be a responsible deacon, holding the Aaronic Priesthood. I don’t see how he will be a Boy Scout.” At that moment, as he sat down across from my desk, the Lord spoke to me. I must have sat there for a long moment not uttering a word as I listened to the still, small voice say: “You must quit thinking ill of this young man. You cannot judge him in that way. You, as a judge in Israel, of all people, must listen to me, because I love this boy. He will one day be a leader in my kingdom.”

Do you know what that experience taught me? Well, I left the office that Sunday afternoon and related the experience to my wife and told her that I knew now, more than ever, that the Lord loves us all. Else, why would he teach me that lesson? You can also guess that as I remember that lesson, I remember the feelings and the promptings of the Holy Ghost. Because of that experience, I will always be able to recall that our Savior loves us, and I will become a better witness of Him.

I was living up in Canada. I had purchased a farm. It was run-down. I went out one morning and saw a currant bush. It had grown up over six feet high. It was going all to wood. There were no blossoms and no currants. I was raised on a fruit farm in Salt Lake before we went to Canada, and I knew what ought to happen to that currant bush. So I got some pruning shears and went after it, and I cut it down, and pruned it, and clipped it back until there was nothing left but a little clump of stumps. It was just coming daylight, and I thought I saw on top of each of these little stumps what appeared to be a tear, and I thought the currant bush was crying. I was kind of simpleminded (and I haven’t entirely gotten over it), and I looked at it, and smiled, and said, “What are you crying about?” You know, I thought I heard that currant bush talk. And I thought I heard it say this: “How could you do this to me? I was making such wonderful growth. I was almost as big as the shade tree and the fruit tree that are inside the fence, and now you have cut me down. Every plant in the garden will look down on me, because I didn’t make what I should have made. How could you do this to me? I thought you were the gardener here.” That’s what I thought I heard the currant bush say, and I thought it so much that I answered. I said, “Look, little currant bush, I am the gardener here, and I know what I want you to be. I didn’t intend you to be a fruit tree or a shade tree. I want you to be a currant bush, and some day, little currant bush, when you are laden with fruit, you are going to say, ‘Thank you, Mr. Gardener, for loving me enough to cut me down, for caring enough about me to hurt me. Thank you, Mr. Gardener.’”

One who received and welcomed the gift of peace was Joseph Millett, an early missionary to the Maritime Provinces of Canada, who learned while there and in his later experiences in life of the need to rely on heavenly help. An experience which he recalled in his journal is a beautiful illustration of simple yet profound faith:
“One of my children came in and said that Brother Newton Hall’s folks was out of bread, had none that day.
“I divided our flour in a sack to send up to Brother Hall. Just then Brother Hall came.
“Says I, ‘Brother Hall, are you out of flour?’
“‘Brother Millett, we have none.’
“‘Well, Brother Hall, there is some in that sack. I have divided and was going to send it to you. Your children told mine that you was out.’
“Brother Hall began to cry. He said he had tried others, but could not get any. He went to the cedars and prayed to the Lord, and the Lord told him to go to Joseph Millett.
“‘Well Brother Hall, you needn’t bring this back. If the Lord sent you for it you don’t owe me for it.’
“You can’t tell me how good it made me feel to know that the Lord knew there was such a person as Joseph Millett.”
Prayer brought the gift of peace to Newton Hall and to Joseph Millett.

When he was just 10 years old, Joshua Dennis spent five days trapped in the pitch-black darkness of an abandoned mine. When rescuers finally heard his faint cry for help and pulled him out of the horrible darkness, he was disoriented, cold, and exhausted. Much to their surprise, he wasn’t afraid. Josh spent his time sleeping, yelling for help, and praying. “Someone was protecting me,” he explained. “I knew people were going to find me.”
Joshua’s simple but profound faith had been nurtured by his parents, who taught him that he had a Heavenly Father who knew where he was at all times. They taught him he had been born with the Light of Christ within him. Truly, Josh had been brought up in light and truth (see D&C 93:40) so that when he found himself huddled on a ledge 2,000 feet deep in a mine, he had drawn upon that light to sustain and comfort him, to give him courage and hope. Josh experienced what Abinadi taught when, speaking of Christ, he said: “He is the light and life of the world; yea, a light that is endless, that can never be darkened” (Mosiah 16:9).
Remember little Josh Dennis? He is now Elder Dennis serving a mission far away from the dark mine which held him captive. Now Elder Dennis finds his way along the narrow, unfamiliar paths of Honduras sharing a message of hope, salvation, and light. What he teaches every day is the paradox he experienced as a young boy lost in a mine: that amidst encircling gloom, amidst the darkest possible circumstances, it is possible to feel hope, peace, and comfort—all because of the light which is stronger than all darkness, the light of Jesus Christ.