Gospel Story Finder

Just more than a year after his dad was baptized and confirmed, the family traveled to the Hong Kong China Temple. Yondonjamts was glad his family was sealed in the temple so they can be a forever family. While at the temple, he asked that a woman’s name be put on the prayer roll so people in the temple could pray for her. He was concerned about her injured leg, and he was grateful when she got better.

Zoey sat with her CTR 7 class in the Primary room. Sister Saxton, the Primary president, said, “Today we’re going to play a game for sharing time.”
Zoey leaned forward in her seat. She liked sharing time, especially when Sister Saxton gave the lesson. Sister Saxton always had a smile, and she knew the name of every child.
“We’re going to find good things to say about each other,” Sister Saxton said. She held up a blue beanbag. “When someone tosses you the beanbag, he or she will say something nice about you. Then you think of someone you’d like to give a compliment to and toss the beanbag to him or her.”
Zoey raised her hand. “What does giving a compliment mean?” she asked.
“It means saying something nice about someone.” Sister Saxton tossed the beanbag to Gavin. “I like the way Gavin folds his arms.”
Gavin’s grin stretched from ear to ear. He held the beanbag for a few moments before tossing it to Janine. “Janine is always smiling,” he said. “It makes me feel happy inside when I see her.”
Zoey’s teacher was the next to get the beanbag. She tossed it to Zoey. “Zoey helps new children feel welcome,” she said.
A sweet warmth spread through Zoey. She tossed the beanbag to Sister Ross, the Primary chorister. Sister Ross knew sign language and often taught the children how to sign the words of the songs. “Sister Ross makes learning the songs fun,” Zoey said.
Soon all the children and teachers had a turn.
“We can either build each other up or tear each other down with our words,” Sister Saxton said. “If we remember to use beanbag words, then we will build others up.”
Zoey thought about how she and her three brothers had argued the night before. She had wanted to watch a TV show about twin sisters. Her brothers had wanted to watch a football game. Finally, their mother came into the room and turned off the television. Zoey and her brothers had gone to bed angry with each other.
A sad feeling crept into Zoey’s heart as she remembered the unkind words she had said to her brothers. Even though they were older than she was, they often took her with them to get ice cream or go to a movie. She needed to tell them how much she loved them, even when she argued with them.
After Primary, Mom was waiting for Zoey. “How was Primary?” Mom asked.
“It was great,” Zoey said. “I’ll tell you about it on the way home. I want to find Rob, Steve, and Hyrum. I have some things I need to tell them.”

Pamela’s father, Thomas Wilson, would go with the missionaries on Sunday evenings to the marketplace in the city centre, where they held street meetings. A crowd would gather as the missionaries preached the restored gospel, and Pamela’s father went along to bear his testimony. When Pamela was a little girl, she used to ask if she could accompany him and he’d say, “No, I don’t think that’s the best place for you to come.” He knew that the crowds were not always friendly. Sometimes people yelled to distract the missionaries and threw rotten fruit at them.
Just before Pamela turned eight, her father agreed that she could go with him one Sunday. While she was there, she saw the hostility toward the missionaries and toward her father. She relates that her father was standing on a box, so as to be seen, bearing his testimony. She was standing behind him, holding on to his coattails. She heard him bear his witness of Jesus Christ. To see her father stand in those circumstances and declare his testimony made a great impression on her life; it anchored her to faith in the Savior.

Illustrations by Craig Stapley
There’s a hospital for cancer patients in my area called City of Hope. I never knew this hospital existed until I advanced to the office of a priest in the Aaronic Priesthood, when I learned that the LDS chaplain at the hospital was a member of my ward. One day he asked me and another member of the priests quorum to help him take the sacrament to some members of the Church who were receiving treatment at City of Hope.
When we arrived, I was shocked by the number of people who were really sick. The care they received at the hospital really was their last hope. We entered the first room and met a woman from Missouri, USA, who had just started treatment. She was surprised to learn that the hospital had a connection with the local ward and that young men would take the time to come and administer the sacrament.
We returned again the next week and found there were now eight members checked in to the hospital. Not only did we administer the sacrament to them, but we visited with each one as well. I felt a deep sense of gratitude for my own health and for the opportunity to help the patients.
The following week I was on a family trip, so another quorum member went in my place. He told me that the members at the hospital had asked where I was. It made me feel happy to know that my service mattered to them, and it motivated me to continue to go when I’m needed so that my service will bring peace to people who “stand in need of comfort” (Mosiah 18:9).

Simón’s handsome quick-tempered father died when the boy was only six and his mother three years later. The happy early childhood of the Bolívar children was abruptly ended. They were taken into the homes of different relatives. Uncle Palacios became responsible for Simón, and the easy outdoor life he had known was replaced by the severity of Uncle Palacios’ cold and formal home in Caracas. Monks were hired to teach the lonely and homesick boy. Uncle Palacios worried about his unhappy nephew and the monks worried about Uncle Palacios, after he once interrupted their unimaginative teaching about the stars to observe, “The stars in the heavens are there for all to see. One is not forced to observe them by gazing through any one particular window.”
Soon afterward a new tutor was engaged for Simón, a tall, loosely built young man of twenty-three. His name was Rodriguez Carreno and, fired with the revolutionary ideas of freedom, he threw away the dull books the monks had used, exchanging them for long walks, exercise, and philosophical talks. These exciting subjects were to influence Simón and make it possible for him to eventually become a great statesman, soldier, and liberator of the five countries he would later help to free and govern.
Rodriquez taught Simón the history of their country and spoke bitterly about the Spaniards who were rulers there and in much of the rest of South America. It was Rodriguez who also told Simón that these rulers considered the native Venezuelans to be inferior because their Spanish blood had been mixed through intermarriage with people from France or the West Indies (Creoles). Rodriguez’ remarks were shocking to the proud young man, and the tutor’s dream of freedom from Spain became a hope for Simón too.

The Church plays an important role in my life,” David says. “Participating in seminary helped build my testimony growing up.” Arising at 6:00 A.M. daily, David studied early-morning seminary for four years. His mother, who has taught seminary for 13 years, taught his older brothers with him.

“My brothers set good examples and uplift me,” says David. The strong bond that is so obvious between the Brown brothers likely results from sharing the same room growing up. They wrestle and tease each other as brothers do, but their teamwork is apparent. They care for each other and desire to see each other succeed. One by one, his three older brothers have left to serve missions: Bryce to Oklahoma, Gary to London, England, and Paul to Leeds, England. As each brother graduated from seminary and left to serve a mission, the class became smaller. By his final year of seminary, David was the only student in his mother’s class. However, it didn’t stop him. He knew the importance of grounding his testimony firmly in the scriptures.

As his teacher and mother, Sister Brown has seen David’s testimony develop. “He’s got courage to live the gospel no matter what anyone else says,” she declares.

A favorite scripture that keeps David strong in the face of adversity is Doctrine and Covenants 82:10 [D&C 82:10]: “I, the Lord, am bound when ye do what I say; but when ye do not what I say, ye have no promise.” David says, “I know that when I apply this in my life, everything else will fall into place.”

An area in which he has put the Lord first is in Sunday matches. Though football tournaments are often scheduled on Sundays, David decided at the age of 11 that he wouldn’t play on the Sabbath. His coach and manager respected him for this decision and worked around it with him. David relates how the Lord blessed him for his obedience. “In England, matches are often postponed because of bad weather. At the end of one season, all the Sunday matches that had been deferred were played midweek instead. I was able to play in all six games—and scored thirty-two goals.” This earned him the title of top scorer for the season and a reputation as “the boy who never plays on a Sunday.”

David enjoys spending the little free time he has relaxing at home with his parents and brothers. He says, “My best friends are my brothers.” They are all close in age: Bryce is 25, Gary is 22, Paul is 21, David is 18, and Stephen is 15. With no other priesthood holders between the ages of 15 and 20 in their ward, they encourage each other to be active in the gospel.

David finds a good balance between church and football. A key to success is hard work. His mum recalls how independent David wished to be as a boy. “He has always been a worker,” she says. “Whether it was homework or seminary booklets, he would just get on with it without being nagged. David coined the phrase in our house: ‘I’ll do it on me own,’ for which we always tease him. David has the ability to work hard at whatever he does.”

For others who are striving for success in their chosen careers, David offers the following advice: “Try hard in anything you want to do, and always put the Lord first.” His determination to be a star football player has set him on a course for greatness. He wants to develop the athletic talents he’s been given. By following the examples set by his brothers, parents, and team members, David will keep his eyes focused on his goals—both spiritual and physical.

He will do what he does best, stay on the ball.

Sisters!
“We’re going to get sisters!” 13-year-old Lara Bisgaard thought excitedly as she put the letter back down on the counter where she found it. “Just wait till I tell Christopher!”
“No way!” 15-year-old Christopher said when Lara told him about the letter saying her parents were trying to adopt four sisters whose parents had died in Mexico. After all, Lara was always bugging their parents for more kids. Four at once, though? That sounded crazy. “It’s just not true,” Christopher said.
But Lara was insistent. She’d seen a letter talking about adoption. She’d read it with her own eyes—held it in her own hands. So Christopher and Lara decided to confront their parents with it one night when they were eating dinner in a fast-food restaurant.
“Well, as a matter of fact, it is true,” their parents told them. “At least, we’re thinking about putting the wheels in motion. We didn’t want to get your hopes up until we knew how much of a chance we had.”
Chris and Sharon Bisgaard had written the letter after reading an article in the Los Angeles Times. It told how the wife of the American ambassador in Mexico had come across four young sisters whose mother had been killed in the earthquake in 1985. Now their father lay dying of leukemia, and he begged the woman to see that his daughters would be taken care of.
The article struck a chord within the Bisgaards. They had been unable to have more than two children, and they thought this might be the ideal opportunity to expand their family. But there must have been hundreds of people who read the article and wanted to adopt the girls. The Bisgaard’s initial letter just asked if they’d even be considered.
That night, over hamburgers and french fries, as the family discussed the project, they began to realize just how important this could be to all of them. Enthusiasm was kindled, and grew and grew. They decided they’d do all they could to bring the Torres Mendoza sisters to La Cañada, California, where they would be adopted into the family.
Applications were filled out, letters were written, interviews were conducted. Question after question was answered, and many prayers were offered, until finally, the non-LDS organization responsible for the sisters decided that the Bisgaards were the most qualified candidates for the adoption.
That was only the beginning. They still had miles of red tape to untangle to make certain that everything was absolutely legal. In the meantime, the family tried to prepare for the adjustments they’d have to make when the family doubled overnight. Lara would have to move out of her room into the guest room. Five people would have to share a bathroom. Their parents wouldn’t be able to spend as much individual time with them as they had before, and big family vacations would be curtailed.
There was also a degree of racial prejudice to cope with. “It’s funny,” said Lara. “When my friends at school heard I was going to get four sisters from Mexico, they thought it was pretty neat and decided they’d have to stop telling Mexican jokes. That’s good for them.”
On top of all that, they would be responsible for helping acclimate four Catholic Mexican girls who spoke very little English to their LDS, California culture. Would Christopher and Lara be able to handle it?
Handle it? They couldn’t wait! The sisters were allowed to come visit the Bisgaards for Christmas, and the family members all fell in love. They were frustrated to learn that it would take several months longer before the girls were able to come back and stay for good. “We were so excited about having them come, and the waiting hurt so bad,” said Lara. “We needed them to be with us, and they needed to be here.”
Meanwhile down in Mexico, Claudia, 13, Sandra, 10, Yvonne, 7, and Jennifer, 3, were waiting at an all-girls boarding school. They were happy that they’d be able to stay together, and while they weren’t exactly sure what it would be like in a new family, they were anxious for the paperwork to clear. They exchanged letters with the Bisgaards and lived on hope.
Family and personal prayers were especially intent during that waiting period.
At last the big day arrived. The Bisgaards drove to the airport in the van, dubbed “The Mormon Mobile” by Christopher and Lara, that they’d recently purchased to accommodate everyone. The girls arrived in the late spring and would have the whole summer to learn English so they could attend public schools in the fall.
The first week was hectic, to say the least. A lot of tears were shed, a lot of frustrations vented. In the beginning it was a great challenge to communicate, since the Bisgaards knew only schoolroom Spanish, and the girls’ English was limited to a few words and phrases.
There were eating habits to adjust to—scrambled eggs became the common ground. There were bathing habits to adjust to—at first the girls were wary of all the water, and then found it so much fun they wanted to bathe three or four times a day. Even dressing habits were different—the girls were shocked when they were asked to put on nothing more than a bathing suit and swim in public.
Religious habits weren’t similar either. “We found the Mormon church to be very different at first,” said Claudia. “In our church in Mexico, there were Saints and statues and things all over, but in the Mormon church there’s none of that. We liked it, though. Family home evening and family prayer are all very nice.”
It’s amazing how adaptable a family can be when they work together. Within a few weeks, Christopher and Lara knew that getting A’s in Spanish would be a breeze from then on, and their new sisters learned how to communicate in English with ease. Christopher hit on a universal form of communication—teasing. “Oh Christopher!” his sisters squeal as they roll their eyes in mock disgust after he’s told them some outrageous story. But the teasing sessions usually end up in hugs and smiles.
They all learned from each other. Christopher added stroller pushing to his sports repertoire, while his new sisters added American football to theirs. When they went to see Christopher play JV quarterback on his high school team, Claudia commented, “It’s a very strange sport.”
Lara had given up dolls for basketballs and volleyballs quite some time ago, but suddenly she found herself combing and braiding hair, dressing and helping feed her younger sisters. And she loved every minute of it. Well, almost every minute of it. It was only natural for her to occasionally miss the status of being the only daughter in the house.
But one of the best adaptations of all came when Claudia and Sandra announced, out of the blue, that they wanted to be baptized. The Bisgaards had not been pushing their religion on the new family members. After all, they had enough to adjust to at first. But they were always included when they wanted to be. The Spanish-speaking sister missionaries came by now and then, but they were there to translate more than proselyte.
“One day the missionaries told us they were going to a baptism, so we asked them about it,” explained Claudia. “When they told us that in this church they baptize children when they’re eight so they understand everything, we decided that we needed to be baptized now too. We wanted to be members of the Church.”
Their new parents made certain that they understood what they were doing before they were baptized. The girls took the missionary discussions and attended many Church meetings prior to their baptismal date. Brother and Sister Bisgaard wanted to assure that their new daughters didn’t feel pressured into their decision and had sincere testimonies of the truthfulness of the gospel.
As time goes on, more and more adjustments are made and the family becomes more unified. They’re not yet perfect. What family is? There are still occasional tears, but there’s also a lot of laughter. As far as the kids are concerned, the pros far outweigh the cons. “Four new sisters mean four times as much joy,” Christopher concludes, tugging Jennifer’s ponytail as she toddles by.

When my friends Brother Chen and his wife were baptized into our ward, I was overjoyed. A year after their baptism, they were sealed in the temple, and their son who had passed away before they joined the Church was sealed to them. It was wonderful to see the Chens grow in the gospel.
Then Brother Chen was killed in a car accident the next year. Following the accident, his death seemed to always be on my mind and often haunted my dreams. I woke up in tears and asked over and over again, “Why? Why does the Lord allow this kind of tragedy to happen? Why does such a thing have to happen to this beautiful family?” One day, when I was struggling with these questions, I picked up a lesson manual and read these words from President Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985):
“If we looked at mortality as the whole of existence, then pain, sorrow, failure, and short life would be calamity. But if we look upon life as an eternal thing stretching far into the premortal past and on into the eternal post-death future, then all happenings may be put in proper perspective. …
“Are we not exposed to temptations to test our strength, sickness that we might learn patience, death that we might be immortalized and glorified?”1
At that moment, I decided to let go of my sorrow and look into the promised and possible future. I saw in my mind’s eye Brother Chen happily reunited with his family. That sight brought me peace. I know that Heavenly Father will give us the wisdom and courage to face adversities.

by Ann Romick
Rick Hilder of the San Lorenzo California First Ward has loved sports for as long as he can remember, and someday he hopes to make them his life’s work. Meanwhile, the 16-year-old sophomore from Arroyo High School not only participates in baseball, football, basketball, and wrestling, but spends a good deal of his spare time coaching a group of younger boys. It was because of his willingness to share his time and talents that he got a part-time job with the Oakland Raiders.
A few years ago, Rick’s younger brother asked Rick if he would come and help to organize and coach some of the kids at his school. Rick was delighted and immediately formed a neighborhood team. The activity was so successful that they completed two winning seasons.
The father of one of the team members was impressed with Rick’s work and dedication and suggested that Rick meet one of his neighbors, George Jones, the assistant equipment manager for the Oakland Raiders. They discussed his interest in sports. George offered Rick a chance to be his assistant.
The work itself is rather ordinary, even in the somewhat awesome world of professional sports, but once in a while, Rick’s job turns into a real treat.
“There are times when I feel like I’m working out with the team,” he says. “I keep the balls dried off, and sometimes they have me go out onto the field and catch the balls or shag field goal attempts when the team is practicing. The players are super guys and treat me very well and are friendly. They encourage me to stick to my goals.”
Rick particularly likes talking with Todd Christensen and Marc Wilson. “We talk a lot about the Church,” he says, “and about my plans for a mission and my desire to one day play football for BYU.”
At his school, Rick is an all-around athlete. He is a double-duty football player, taking a defensive tackle position as well as playing center for the offensive team. He was voted the most valuable player of the year last season. He also wrestles and plays baseball.

For three days we had been driving our newly restored, 40-year-old Auburn Phaeton convertible through the Canadian and New England countryside. Our dream after five years of hard work was a reality. A handsome, shiny, black and chrome machine created by the genius of classic automobile carriage designer, Gordon Buhrig, the model 851 Auburn is indeed a beautiful road car. It is akin in many ways to Buhrig’s more recent design for the Lincoln Continental. On the highway the Auburn’s performance is difficult to match even today. The great auto racing and engineering brothers August and Fred Duesenburg, of Indianapolis fame, combined the nearly all-aluminum, 8-cylinder Lycoming engine, turbocharged carburetion, and negative pressure exhaust with a dual-speed Columbia rear drive—a fantastic combination of automobile engineering, performance, and economy that was almost unbelievable in 1935. It was way ahead of its time, and it was known as the King of the Road. After driving and enjoying it for three days, we all began reminiscing about the first time we had seen it.
It had been abandoned beside a barn, and weeds were growing around and inside it. It may not have interested some families; but we were so excited at the prospect of a true, classic automobile to restore that we were almost afraid to ask the owners about it. We drove by the barn three times, looking and talking excitedly. Finally we stopped and, with a surge of courage, made the purchase. We slept little that night and even less during many nights to come as the family planned, unbolted, repaired, restored, rebolted, and refinished the Auburn as a family project.
Around the supper table, usually three nights each week, we talked of the previous night’s progress and planned the work that needed to be done. Rust, grease, and road dirt by the pound, accumulated over nearly half a century, were scraped, wire brushed, and washed away. Many bolts, under stress for years, had to be sawed off to allow complete disassembly of vital running parts. All the bearings required either repacking or replacement. New upholstery with the same fine leather and the original style had to be made to restore the convertible’s interior. Replating all the bright work with copper, nickel, and chromium added to the list of goals to be reached.
We took special trips so the family could learn how to take care of the metallurgical testing of the rods, pistons, crank, and camshaft. We personally observed the lead-pouring of the engine bearings. With fascination we all watched “striking-a-match” to a newly rewound electric starter. Fusing the electrical insulation by fire was actually necessary in such old-type winding.
The second springtime after we had begun the project was especially memorable for us. The mechanical work was nearly completed. The family just had to hear, see, and feel the Auburn in action. After carefully oiling each cylinder and bearing, we rolled the car out into the beautiful, warm, Saturday-morning sun. Because of the tightness of the newly poured lead bearings, rods, and piston rings, the starter couldn’t turn the engine over; so we had to tow the car a few blocks to get it started. It was like Christmas to a five-year-old. The family celebrated the halfway goal we had set for ourselves and each took a turn driving the Auburn around the yard. None of us (and probably none of the neighbors) will ever forget that thrilling morning when the King again roared to life.
The project wasn’t strictly limited to our family, either. Neighbors and friends were caught up in the spirit of the King of the Road. Ted, with his welding torch, a perfect diversion from his chemistry lecturing at the university, put smooth metalwork in place of rusted-out panels. Rebuilding the engine and drive train with new bearings and piston rings would not have been possible without Tony’s skilled hands. Compliments received for the beautifully restored body lines gleaming with a dozen hand-rubbed coats of black lacquer were the result of Richard’s creative ability. It was during hundreds of hours of working together that Richard fell in love with our Auburn, and more important, he and his family learned more of the gospel and were baptized into the Church.
The thrill of driving that masterpiece of design and engineering and the countless hours of labor to restore it have indeed strengthened the life of each individual member of our family. Seeing the goal, planning and working together to achieve it, and finally feeling the achievement of driving that beautiful King has made our family goals, temporal and eternal, very real and important to us.
At the time of restoration, the Auburn was important to every member of our family. Today, in our philosophy of life, it has become merely the symbol of our real achievement. We have found that most of our life problems and challenges can be planned and worked out together much the way we restored the Auburn.

I live in St. Anthony, Idaho. It is a small town near the metropolis of Rexburg, Idaho, where BYU-Idaho is located. Both of these places are within an hour's drive of the majestic Teton Mountains. On the western side of the Grand Teton — the tallest peak in that area at over 13,760 feet (4166.66 meters) — is a smaller peak called Table Mountain or Table Rock. It is 11,000 feet (3352 meters) in elevation. The main trail to get to the top is about 11 miles (17.7 kilometers) in length. It is a popular hike - especially for those who are in good physical shape. Many years ago, I went on this hike with my wife and two of our children, along with several ward members. It was beautiful, but challenging for me. It was especially difficult when, on our descent not far from the top, my wife sprained her ankle. It was a long way back for her, and for me. I remember telling her, when we arrived at our vehicle, that if I ever wanted to hike Table Rock again, she should remind me of how tired and sore I was at that moment. Just for the record, I did hike Table Rock again. It was still difficult for me and I was tired and sore for a few days afterward. But I was so happy that I did it.
I have thought about that, and other hikes, which I have taken. I know that completing a difficult hike brings satisfaction and is very enjoyable, especially when one has prepared for the hike by being in good physical condition, having the proper equipment, provisions, and knowledge of how to get where you want to go. Having a well-defined trail which has been traveled by someone else in the group is also helpful.
I believe hiking Table Rock, or participating in some other difficult expedition or task is similar to our life's journey. There are times when you wonder if you can actually make it to the end of the trail. There are times when you may want to give up. Pushing ourselves to do more than we want to do, or feel capable of doing, is a key element for success in completing our journey, but it requires a great deal of work and determination on our part - and very often, help from others.

One evident blessing that immediately showered me during this project was the immense peace I felt—not only during the session but also in my life in general. To share a bit of my story, a few weeks before our pilot recording, I was still reeling from the aftermath of Typhoon Kristine. Our house was flooded, and many of our belongings were damaged beyond repair. Chaos and uncertainty surrounded me, leaving me restless and worried.

Despite all this, I never once hesitated to attend the recording session, knowing that I would be edified and strengthened as I gave my best efforts. Throughout the session, we enjoyed what we would consider as among the happiest times of our lives. We worked hard, but it didn’t feel like work: we laughed, joked around, and helped each other while recording the songs in Tagalog. Truly, the Lord is in the minute details of our lives. He knew I needed to step back and experience the peace His music offers, shared with wonderful people.

Latter-day Saint Alma Richards made the 1912 Olympic team.
A high jumper, Alma Richards was part of the 1912 track and field Olympic team that competed in Stockholm, Sweden. During the competition, others were eliminated one by one until only Alma and one other remained.
“As Alma prepared to jump, his mind raced. There he was, representing his country at the greatest athletic competition in the world. Yet he felt weak, as if the whole world were resting on his shoulders. He thought of Utah, his family, and his hometown. He thought of BYU and the Saints. Bowing his head, he silently asked God to give him strength. ‘If it is right that I should win,’ he prayed, ‘I will do my best to set a good example all the days of my life.’”
Drawing upon strength from the Lord, Alma jumped and cleared the high bar. When his remaining competitor failed, Alma won the gold medal.
Later, a friend “teased him about praying before his winning jump. ‘I wish you wouldn’t laugh,’ Alma quietly responded. ‘I prayed to the Lord to give me strength to go over that bar, and I went over.’”

Because education is a worthy pursuit that is pleasing to the Lord, we can be assured He will help us as we strive to increase our knowledge and skills in our schoolwork or in our chosen field of work. Seventeen-year-old Annie Anderson feels the Spirit helped her improve her school studies.
“I didn’t exactly have to work hard at school until I went to high school. I was working but not as hard as I needed to to get the grades needed to go to a good college. When I heard President Hinckley’s counsel to try harder in school, I decided it was something that I needed to work on. I asked Heavenly Father to help me as I worked to get better grades. I have felt the Spirit as I study, and I know that when I have put forth the effort, Heavenly Father has helped me. There wasn’t a drastic change in my grades, nor did I become really smart overnight, but I know the Lord loves us and will help us accomplish what He asks us to do.”

I would like to share with you a very personal family story that happened almost 21 years ago. The day after Christmas in 1977, a little redheaded girl was born to our family. Although she came a few weeks early, she appeared to be healthy and happy, and we all loved her very much. When she was about two months old, she became quite ill and spent a few days at Primary Children’s Hospital in the semi-intensive care unit. After some treatments and special medications, she improved enough for us to take her back home. But she never totally recovered. In fact, her condition worsened until we took her back to the hospital again a month and half later. This time she did not respond to the treatments, and a diagnosis of the problem was not readily evident. As her lungs began to fail, she was transferred to the intensive care unit, where, on a respirator, she gradually moved to 100% oxygen.

We were told this was an essential treatment for her at the time, but high doses of oxygen for an infant could in the long run result in blindness. Also, lack of adequate oxygen to the brain could cause some long-term brain damage. Because of the numerous blood tests required, a shunt was put into her tiny arm to facilitate the process. Again we were warned of potential problems. In fact, the very day the shunt was inserted, a nine-month-old baby in the same unit had his arm amputated because of a severe infection associated with the shunt he had received.

At first the doctors were optimistic, stating that there were many possible reasons for her condition and, as soon as they could identify the cause, appropriate treatment could be administered. Test results gave no useful information, and nothing seemed to help this little life that was slipping away from us. On a Saturday evening the doctors told us Holly had stabilized, and they suggested we go home and get some rest. If there was a problem, they would call us immediately. The dreaded call came during the very early hours the following morning. We were told that both of Holly’s lungs had collapsed and that doctors would try to keep her alive until we arrived so that we could be with her as she died. We threw on our clothes and jumped in the car. On the way to the hospital I thought to myself, “This is one of those times when people bargain with the Lord for something they dearly want.” But, try as I might, I couldn’t think of anything I could offer that was a worthy trade for the life of my little daughter. So instead I prayed with all the energy I had that the Lord would help me handle whatever was to come.

Forever etched on my mind will be the scene inside the intensive care unit when we arrived of doctors holding the limp little girl in their arms, hand-pumping the oxygen that was keeping her alive. We asked if we could give her a blessing before taking her off the oxygen. Literally as soon as the amen was said, a lobe in one of her lungs spontaneously inflated. It wasn’t a lot, but it was enough. She had been given a little more time.

Unfortunately we still didn’t know what was wrong with her. Our pediatrician, Stanley Child, was relentless as he began searching the medical journals until he read of a very rare condition that could be causing the problems. In order to make a definitive diagnosis, an angiogram was required—a very risky procedure for a child so young and so critically ill. There was a big chance that the angiogram could cause a stroke or, worse, death. Without a diagnosis, however, it was essentially guaranteed that she would die. After much discussion the cardiologist moved ahead with the procedure. The doctors did, in fact, discover the problem, and open-heart surgery was scheduled immediately. This was a dangerous operation under the best of circumstances, especially 21 years ago, and Holly was given very low odds of surviving.

Here is where I would like to make an important point. I tend to be an emotional person, and I can cry with little prompting. To face the probable death of my child would seem to be almost unbearable. And yet, as I sat in the waiting room of Primary Children’s Hospital after the operation began, I felt calm and peaceful. In fact, I was the one who was offering reassuring words to the others who had come to be with us as we waited. At times I could feel the presence and strength and warmth of others behind me; but when I turned around, no one was there. Almost suddenly I understood. The Lord was answering my prayer to be able to handle whatever was to come. I was experiencing the gift of the Holy Ghost as a comforter.

In the operating room an incision was made from Holly’s sternum around the left side of her chest to her backbone. The surgeon needed to reach into her tiny body with his adult male hands and reroute an artery that was only the size of a pencil lead. After a time we received word that all had gone well. The next challenge was to take Holly off the heart/lung machine so that her heart could begin beating on its own once again. With great relief for all involved, she successfully made that transition. After several weeks she was strong enough to be taken home. Her little body had been paralyzed, she had no voice because of trauma to her vocal chords, and she weighed less than what she had at birth. The next months were challenging, but little by little she regained full strength.

In less than one month, on December 26, Holly will be 21 years old. She loves to play the piano with two hands, she sings with a lovely soprano voice, she has 20/20 vision, and she is an honor student. In high school her heart and lungs were strong enough for her to run track. There are not many around who are more energetic, fun loving, or who seem to enjoy more from life.

I often reflect back to that time and to doctors who listened and were guided to know how to best help our child. I think of friends and family who gave more to us during that difficult time than I could have imagined possible. And I can never deny the hand of a loving Heavenly Father who heard my prayer and gave me the strength I needed to handle the situation, both while Holly was in the hospital and during the time that followed. Obviously, I have shared with you an experience that turned out exactly the way I wanted.

Last month I had the opportunity to attend the temple wedding of a young woman I have known since she was born. As I sat in the sealing room, looking at the beautiful chandelier sparkling in the light of the temple, I remembered that day when I first held her. Her mother had her dressed in a little white dress, and I thought she was one of the most beautiful babies I had ever seen. Then this young woman walked through the door, once again dressed in white. She was radiant and happy. As she entered the room, I wished with all my heart that every young woman could envision that moment and strive to always be worthy to make and keep sacred covenants and receive the ordinances of the temple in preparation to enjoy the blessings of exaltation.
As this couple knelt at the sacred altar, they received promises beyond mortal comprehension that will bless, strengthen, and assist them on their mortal journey. It was one of those moments when the world stood still and all of heaven rejoiced. As the newly married couple looked into the large mirrors in the room, the groom was asked what he saw. He said, “All those who have gone before me.” Then the couple looked into the large mirror on the opposite wall, and the bride said with tears in her eyes, “I see all those who will follow after us.” She saw her future family—her posterity. I know that she understood again in that moment how important it is to believe in being chaste and virtuous. There is no more beautiful sight than a couple, properly prepared, kneeling together at the altar of the temple.

The Butler brothers, of Orangeville, Utah, are always thinking up interesting inventions to help people. This year, their inventions not only made some people’s lives easier, but they paid off. Brett, the youngest, invented a way to use Velcro to help kids take their jackets on and off without turning the sleeves inside out. B. J. invented a way to make garbage bags with dog repellant on them so animals wouldn’t rip them apart at night. And Wes invented a flag container that would pull the flag in when it gets dark or rainy. They entered their ideas in a contest and won medals, trophies, TV appearances, magazine interviews, and free trips for their efforts. A little ingenuity and a desire to help others served them well.

A few years later, I was offered a job opportunity in Fruitland, Idaho. I had no idea where Fruitland was, but again, after much prayer and fasting…we were directed to move. I remember pulling out my Patriarchal blessing one evening. One particular line struck me so hard that I actually wished I HADN’T seen it. It said, “Your family will live in many places for the gospel.” I quickly put that thing away, so my wife wouldn’t see it – she didn’t do too well with moves. She got too attached to people and places. Well, I saw this job as a great opportunity for me, so our family made the move to the cold land of the potatoes – Idaho.

I will say this was NOT an easy move. But doing the Lord’s will usually isn’t. In fact, I remember after settling in and unpacking a few boxes one night, I took my wife for a drive around the town. She was quiet and withdrawn. I tried to console her by saying, “if you really don’t like it here, we don’t have to stay.” As I looked over at her, she stared out the window, trying to hide the tears that streamed down her face. She said, “if this is where we are supposed to be, then I will like it.” We thrived in Fruitland. We loved the tight-knit farming community. We served in our ward. Our children made great friends, and we grew as a family.

It was also here in Fruitland, Idaho, that I was approached by a family friend to make the career change over to healthcare. I had absolutely no experience, but with the Lord’s help and with the mentoring of this family friend, I learned the profession. I must mention that this family friend was our stake president at the time and is currently the area presidency in New Zealand, and we love him and his amazing family so very much. This career change was monumental for my family, and it would not have been possible if we weren’t willing to follow the promptings to move--anytime, anywhere.

Several months ago we were having family scripture study. My two-year-old grandson was sitting on my lap as we read. I was in full-blown grandma mode, relishing the visit of my son’s family.
With our scripture study complete, I closed my book. My grandson knew that it would soon be bedtime. He looked up with his eager blue eyes and spoke an eternal truth: “More scriptures, Nana.”
My son, a good and consistent parent, warned me, “Mom, don’t be a weak link. He is just trying to get out of going to bed.”
But when my grandson asks for more scriptures, we read more scriptures! More scriptures enlighten our minds, nourish our spirits, answer our questions, increase our trust in the Lord, and help us center our lives on Him. “Remember to search them diligently, that ye may profit thereby.”

My last story comes from our missionary son, Elder Trevor Ram, who currently is serving in the India Bangalore Mission. I’ve changed the name of the investigator so as to protect his identity. I’ve replaced it with my husband’s name – Tulsi – instead. The story as told by Elder Ram:

“I have a great testimony of the Spirit’s power to bring peace to troubled hearts, even if the troubled one is me. Last night, we were teaching [Tulsi] and reviewing the baptismal interview questions with him. [Tulsi] is pretty much the man, so he came over to church on Sunday night in the pouring rain. Needless to say, he was drenched when he met us. Because he wanted to sit in the classroom without any fan or windows open, it became pretty stuffy and hot pretty quick in there. My stomach was upset and so that combined with the muggy atmosphere of the room made things pretty uncomfortable. Throughout the teaching, I was unable to follow much of what was going on because [Tulsi] speaks mostly in Tamil to Elder Raja which just added to the uncomfortable situation.

“Anyhow, the lesson went on and on and I just got more and more uncomfortable there. I was wondering when things were going to end but I could feel the Spirit withdrawing and that was not a good feeling, Silently, I prayed that I could just keep it together and get through the lesson.

“Just then, [Tulsi] asked a question. Elder Raja probably noticed my discomfort and translated the question so I could answer it. [Tulsi's] question was, approximately, if I make a mistake after three or four years of baptism, will I be able to come to Church? I bore my testimony of the Atonement and the Savior's willingness to forgive. As I did, I felt the Spirit come over me. I knew what I was saying was true and it made me feel good. The discomfort of the moment was pushed out and only the truth of the gospel really mattered right then. [Tulsi] seemed satisfied with the answer and within a few short minutes, we closed up and were on our way.

“This week, my testimony is that the Savior's teaching is true: those who seek to find themselves will lose themselves, but those who lose themselves in His service will find themselves happy and comforted and filled with goodwill. I had forgotten a bit that the thrill of doing missionary work doesn't come from seeing all the cool things India has to offer but from being blessed as I forget myself and serve as selflessly as possible. I'm grateful Heavenly Father took the time to reteach me that lesson again this week. He is unspeakably wonderful.”