Gospel Story Finder

There’s another reason Hailey is cheering for everyone. It has to do with her standards.
Hailey had already completed one season with the freshman team and was eager to earn a starting spot on the junior varsity (JV) team. But as she prepared, she ran into a problem.
The coaches held preseason games on Sundays that “were essentially the tryouts for the team,” Hailey said. But she’d promised herself and her Father in Heaven that she’d keep the Sabbath holy. “So I missed 10 games,” she said. “The coaches never really saw me play.”
She made the team, but it became clear she’d spend most of the season on the bench. Instead of becoming discouraged, she chose to encourage her teammates.
“Hailey never complained,” said her Young Women president, Jami. “Instead she became the team’s biggest cheerleader. Everyone knew she’d be there cheering, and they’d talk about what a support she was. She could have become bitter, but instead she just kept smiling.”
Hailey’s JV coach, Jon, agreed. He said no one has “a bigger heart or a greater love for the game” and that “selfless players like Hailey are critical to a team’s success.” Before one game, he said, she made signs for each player and coach using paper plates, a paper flag, and candy. “She’s always taking time for others,” he said.

People generally want to go home for the holidays. We even sing “I’ll be home for Christmas.” Being at home with loved ones and repeating family traditions is what makes Christmas special. A few years ago, however, I learned that when you are with those people you love, you can feel that you are home for Christmas anywhere.
In December of 1981 I was in the Primary Children’s Medical Center in Salt Lake City for brain surgery. The operation was scheduled for December 10 so I’d be well enough to go home before Christmas. Things didn’t turn out to be so simple. The operation lasted 14 hours, and within the next two weeks my right lung collapsed twice; so I was obviously in no condition to go home when Christmas rolled around.
Christmas in the hospital? It was not a pleasing thought for me. In fact, I became quite depressed. How could I enjoy Christmas in this situation?
A traditional Christmas at our house starts on Christmas Eve. Last minute tasks have already been taken care of because Christmas Eve is as special as the next day. It’s the time for our Christmas Eve program of songs, stories, and presentations. The last part of the program is always the reading of the Christmas story from the Bible by my mother. Then just before bed, everyone is allowed to open one present from under the tree.
Christmas morning we all get up together to see what Santa Claus has brought. Then one by one we go through the stockings stuffed with surprises. Next, all the presents are passed out, and we take turns opening each gift. These are the basic traditions that make Christmas memorable to me.
But that year in the hospital there were no presents under a tree, no stockings on the fireplace, and no piano to sing songs around. There were just a few decorations strung around the room between the machines and tubes hooked to my body, and the small Christmas tree my grandma had sent. While I was wondering what kind of a Christmas it was going to be, my family was making plans, and they were able to get me excited for the occasion even in my bleak circumstance.
I’ll bet there are few people who can say that they’ve held a family Christmas Eve program in a semi-intensive care hospital room. It may have been the shortest program in history, but we still had one. My sister, who knows three chords on the guitar, even brought her instrument to play some carols. My mother read the Christmas story as beautifully as ever.
Christmas morning Santa Claus not only came, but he awoke me personally with a large box filled with candy, games, and a homemade doll. After my morning routine with the nurses, my family arrived. They hauled all of the family’s presents up to my room, and passed out the gifts. One by one we went around the circle opening all the packages.
Because of my family’s love and our traditions, it turned out to be a wonderful Christmas after all and one of my most memorable as well. Surely, if you can succeed in making yourself feel at home for Christmas in the hospital, you can find a way to be at home for the holidays anywhere.

“One of my fondest childhood memories is of my dog. Mother and Father bought me a collie, and I named him Scotty. Collies are smart, but this dog had an uncanny ability to know what time it was. Every morning Scotty walked with me through the park to the corner and left me there to cross the street on my way to school. He seemed to sense that that was as far as he should go. I live close to school and came home for lunch, and every day at noon Scotty was there to walk home with me and then back to the corner after lunch. At 3:30 he was there again to walk home from school with me. He was as faithful a companion as you would ever want to have. Scotty lived with us many, many years. He and I were inseparable. He was my protector, and ours was a great relationship. I was very sad when he died. I never had a brother, but it didn’t seem to matter because my best pal was Scotty. I hope that other children have pets that mean as much to them as Scotty did to me.”

Another example: In 1830, Frederick G. Williams, a prominent medical doctor, was baptized. He immediately gave of his talents and prosperity to the Church. He became a leader in the Church. He donated property for the Kirtland Temple. In 1837, caught up in difficulties of the times, Frederick G. Williams made serious mistakes. The Lord declared in a revelation that “in consequence of [his] transgressions [his] former standing [in the leadership of the Church had] been taken away from [him].”18

The beautiful lesson we learn from Frederick G. Williams is that “whatever his personal weaknesses, he had the strength of character to [renew] his loyalty to the [Lord,] the Prophet and … to the Church, when it would have been so easy to have disintegrated in bitterness.”19 In the spring of 1840, he presented himself at a general conference, humbly asking forgiveness for his past conduct and expressing his determination to do the will of God in the future. His case was presented by Hyrum Smith, and he was freely forgiven. He died a faithful member of the Church.

I recently met the president of the Recife Brazil Temple, whose name is Frederick G. Williams. He recounted how his great-great-grandfather’s decision of character had blessed the family and hundreds of his posterity.

When the missionaries came to the student council of the Olympus High School Seminary in Salt Lake City, Utah, and asked for some proselyting help, Lissa Naumann suggested that they use this method. She had been introduced to it in a Sunday School class and had been so impressed that ever since she had been giving away copies of the Book of Mormon to close friends, strangers she met on trips, and even customers at her part-time job. She was put in charge of the project along with Matt Carpenter, who handled publicity. Lissa got busy buying copies of the Book of Mormon, preparing instructional handouts and displays, and cutting out several hundred sheets of Book of Mormon-sized paper for testimonies. During part of each class period for three consecutive days, the spiritual representative in each class explained the program to the students, sold them copies of the Book of Mormon, provided paper, took their pictures, and gave them time to write their testimonies. It was suggested that each student prayerfully select a friend and write the testimony to him or her personally. The book could then be given in person or delivered by the missionaries. If any of the students did not feel they had any friends who would accept a book, they could address their testimony to “Dear Friend,” and the missionaries would see that an investigator received it.
Some 500 copies of the Book of Mormon were purchased under this program, and a number of people are being taught by the missionaries as a result. At the outset of the program, the council determined that if one person came to know that the Book of Mormon was true, the program would be a success. Bob’s conversion fulfilled that goal and caused some internal rejoicing in the hearts of seminary students as well as some very external whoops of joy in the seminary halls and classrooms. But Bob wasn’t really the only convert. A number of faithful young members of the Church gained a much stronger testimony of the Book of Mormon as they read through it in preparation for writing the letters to be placed in their gift copies.

When I was a young man, I was a home teacher to a very old sister. She taught me from her life experience.

When she was a little girl, President Brigham Young came to Brigham City, a great event in the town named after him. To honor him, the Primary children, all dressed in white, were lined up along the road coming into town, each with a basket of flowers to spread before the carriage of the President of the Church.

Something displeased her. Instead of throwing her blossoms, she kicked a rock in front of the carriage, saying, “He ain’t one bit better than my Grandpa Lovelund.” That was overheard, and she was severely scolded.

I am very sure that President Brigham Young would be the first to agree with little Janie Steed. He would not consider himself to be worth more than Grandpa Lovelund or any other worthy member of the Church.

Jenna and her mom were both baptized in 2002, and Zack was baptized when he turned eight about a year later. Her mom met the missionaries through the hospital where she works. As her mom studied the gospel, Jenna also became interested and eventually decided that she wanted to be baptized too. They attended several other churches before deciding to join The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. When asked how the Church was different from other congregations, Jenna answers, “It feels like the right church. It just feels like I’m close to Heavenly Father.”

My elderly neighbor and her son lived a few apartment doors down from my family. She became dear to us. After her son passed away, she became ill and was confined to her bed. We took care of her until she passed away three months later.
After their deaths, I wanted temple ordinances performed for this family. But because we were not related, that was not an option. One day a clear thought came to my mind: “Prove that you are related, and you can do the temple work for them.”1 I thought the Lord was asking the impossible, but the word prove kept coming to my mind.
My neighbor’s relatives began transferring ownership of her apartment, but they lacked records to prove their relationship, even after we searched government archives.
The Spirit told me we were missing something. With consent from these relatives, I looked through her apartment for documents. In a corner of the apartment I found some bags full of old papers. I had a feeling the bags were important.
I looked through two bags and then began looking through a third. I had almost reached the bottom of the bag when I felt the cover of a notebook. Inside the notebook’s cover pocket, I found five important certificates: my neighbor woman’s birth certificate, her mother’s death and marriage certificates, her grandmother’s death certificate, and her father’s burial certificate.
When our neighbor’s relatives and I reviewed the documents, two words stood out to me: “Vagaysky District,” in western Siberia. Suddenly, I felt that I should look at my own family tree. When I did, I found that Vagaysky appeared on the distant branches of my father’s family tree. Further research showed that my deceased neighbor and I are related!
The Lord did not require the impossible from me after all. I cannot express my joy to learn that my neighbor is part of my family. This link will allow me to make sure her temple ordinances are performed in the future.
The Lord loves His children. He prepared the plan of salvation for all, including my neighbor and her son.

Earlier this year, my wife and I drove past the apartment where we lived 40 years ago. That was the darkest period of my life, the “Slough of Despond” [4] in my life. Like Elder Holland, I found myself saying to my younger self, “Don’t you quit!! You keep trying. You are going to make it. There are great things to come.” I did keep trying, and over the next two years, my prospects turned around and have been on an upward climb ever since.
While my path has been upward, it has not been without it’s valleys.

In considering the testing that leads to a degree—or to the bigger goal of eternal life—we could get overwhelmed. I think Elder Hartman Rector, Jr., thought about this:
“I learned this lesson from my father at a very early age. My dad was smarter than I was when I was seven years old. Of course, I was smarter than he was when I was seventeen, but that changed later, too. He said to me one time, ‘You are not big enough to milk the cows.’
“Now, I knew I was. I was seven years old, and I knew I could milk the cows. So I proved to him that I could.
“My dad said, ‘You know, I believe you can milk. You’ve got the job.’
“For the next ten years I milked eight to twelve cows night and morning. You may rest assured I got to the place where I did not want to milk, and once I said to Dad, ‘Dad, I don’t want to milk.’ He said, ‘That’s all right. You don’t have to want to—as long as you do it.’” [8]

I’ve told the story about the little baby, nine months old, who was born blind. The father came up to me one Sunday and said, “Brother Cowley, our baby hasn’t been blessed yet. We’d like you to bless him.”

I said, “Why have you waited so long?”

“Oh, we just didn’t get around to it.”

That’s the native way; I like that. They just don’t get around to doing things. Why not live and enjoy it?

I said, “All right. What’s the name?”

He told me the name, and I was just going to start when he said, “By the way, give him his vision when you give him a name. He was born blind.”

It shocked me, but then I said to myself, “Why not?” Christ said to His disciples when He left them, “Greater works than these shall [ye] do” (John 14:12). I had faith in that father’s faith.

After I gave that child his name, I finally got around to giving him his vision.

That boy is about twelve years old now. The last time I was back there, I was afraid to inquire about him. I was sure he had gone blind again. That’s the way my faith works sometimes. I asked the branch president about him.

He said, “Brother Cowley, the worst thing you ever did was to bless that child to receive his vision. He’s the meanest kid in this neighborhood, always getting into mischief.”

Boy, I was thrilled about that kid getting into mischief!

Another evidence of faith took place when I first visited the St. Thomas Branch of the mission, situated about 120 miles from Toronto. My wife and I had been invited to attend the branch sacrament meeting and to speak to the members there. As we drove along a fashionable street, we saw many church buildings and wondered which one was ours. None was. We located the address which had been provided and discovered it to be a decrepit lodge hall. Our branch met in the basement of the lodge hall and was composed of perhaps twenty-five members, twelve of whom were in attendance. The same individuals conducted the meeting, blessed and passed the sacrament, offered the prayers, and sang the songs.

At the conclusion of the services, the branch president, Irving Wilson, asked if he could meet with me. At this meeting, he handed to me a copy of the Improvement Era, forerunner of today’s Ensign. Pointing to a picture of one of our new chapels in Australia, President Wilson declared, “This is the building we need here in St. Thomas.”

I smiled and responded, “When we have enough members here to justify and to pay for such a building, I am sure we will have one.” At that time, the local members were required to raise 30 percent of the cost of the site and the building, in addition to the payment of tithing and other offerings.

He countered, “Our children are growing to maturity. We need that building, and we need it now!”

I provided encouragement for them to grow in numbers by their personal efforts to fellowship and teach. The outcome is a classic example of faith, coupled with effort and crowned with testimony.

President Wilson requested six additional missionaries to be assigned to St. Thomas. When this was accomplished, he called the missionaries to a meeting in the back room of his small jewelry store, where they knelt in prayer. He then asked one elder to hand to him the yellow-page telephone directory, which was on a nearby table. President Wilson took the book in hand and observed, “If we are ever to have our dream building in St. Thomas, we will need a Latter-day Saint to design it. Since we do not have a member who is an architect, we will simply have to convert one.” With his finger moving down the column of listed architects, he paused at one name and said, “This is the one we will invite to my home to hear the message of the Restoration.”

President Wilson followed the same procedure with regard to plumbers, electricians, and craftsmen of every description. Nor did he neglect other professions, feeling a desire for a well-balanced branch. The individuals were invited to his home to meet the missionaries, the truth was taught, testimonies were borne and conversion resulted. Those newly baptized then repeated the procedure themselves, inviting others to listen, week after week and month after month.

The St. Thomas Branch experienced marvelous growth. Within two and one-half years, a site was obtained, a beautiful building was constructed, and an inspired dream became a living reality. That branch is now a thriving ward in a stake of Zion.

When I reflect on the town of St. Thomas, I dwell not on the ward’s hundreds of members and many dozens of families; rather, in memory I return to that sparse sacrament meeting in the lodge-hall basement and the Lord’s promise, “Where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them” (Matt. 18:20).

Each group of young people displayed amazing talent and determination. The group from Tønsberg, Norway, was typical. They decided to build a ten-meter-long horse costume and do a dance in it for the circus to be held as part of the conference. It was impossible, of course. There were only four active youth in the town, and they needed ten people to fill the costume. Not only that, they had no building in which to build the costume and practice the dance. Being too hardheaded to simply give up, they promptly recruited non-Mormon youth to build and dance in the costume with them. They built the horse and practiced the dance in the open fields around Tønsberg, and when the time came, they all went to Festinord, members and nonmembers alike.
Communication proved to be no problem for the young men and women of three nations. Their languages are similar enough that they could understand each other with some hard listening, and whenever that didn’t work, they simply switched to English, a language in which they all were fluent.
As a result of Festinord, the people of Aalborg have a warm feeling for the Church, while the young people, many from very small branches, were strengthened by their association with one another. Per Herry from Frolunoa, Sweden, said it all: “It’s wonderful to have a festival with so many LDS people.”

Some time ago I was in this same situation. My friend, who is not yet a member of the Church, went to a bar and brought back two bottles of beer. I said to him, “Don’t you know my Latter-day Saint principles?” He answered, “Excuse me, I had forgotten; so I have no friend to drink with.” Then he surprised me. He threw the two bottles in the garbage. He always goes out with me now, but he does not drink.
Our examples influence other people. We need to follow the example of Jesus Christ.

I was the youngest of seven children, and every morning at 6 a.m. my father would bang on the door and say, “It’s time for prayer.” He would go into the kitchen and start cooking the oatmeal, and we would gather and get on our knees. Something we would often hear our parents say in our family prayers was, “Please bless the missionaries that they will be led to the honest in heart and that our children will have the desire to go on a mission.” When we were young and one of us was called on to say a prayer, we would almost always say the same thing, and it affected us.
In this way, our parents impressed upon our minds the importance of a mission from the time we were young. Perhaps this was because they had both served missions. My father served in the Mexican Mission, and my mother served in Missouri at the height of the Depression.
My mother’s mission taught her a great lesson on faith. Her bishop and stake president told her that it would be difficult for her to serve a mission because she had a speech impediment, which made it hard for her to be understood. But she felt impressed to go and had the overwhelming feeling that if she would be faithful, the Lord would correct her problem and she would be able to serve.
At age 14 she had received a blessing regarding a mission. Some time later she went to the secluded upper rooms of the meetinghouse and poured her soul out to her Heavenly Father regarding her desire to serve a mission. She felt inspired to call her uncle, who was a mission president in Missouri, and ask him if she could be his secretary. (Back then they didn’t have all the formalities concerning mission calls that we do now.) He said yes, and she was set apart by a member of the Quorum of the Twelve, who promised her she would bring many people into the Church. She was surprised at this, knowing that she had difficulty speaking.
However, after she began to serve, one of the sister missionaries became very ill. The mission president asked my mother to work with this sister’s companion so that the sister could come to the mission home to recover and her companion could keep working. My mother took a train to the area where she would be working. When she stepped off the train, she was met by a couple of elders, one of whom remarked when he saw her, “Why have they sent Sister Bennion? She can’t even talk.” She turned to that missionary and said indignantly, “Yes, I can talk.” And in that moment her problem was gone, and it never returned.
I was raised in a home where the parents prayed that their children would go on missions because they knew what a mission does. Without reservation, I can say that, apart from my marriage to my wonderful wife, nothing has done more for me than my mission—for education, learning to get along with all sorts of people, learning a foreign language. But much more than that, through my mission I came to know my Heavenly Father and my Savior. I know the Savior lives. I know that. I am so grateful for parents who taught me the value of a mission.
I would like you to realize that whatever you do as a young person will set a precedent for the rest of your life.
Before Helaman’s sons Nephi and Lehi went out on their missions, their father gave them this counsel:
“Behold, my sons, I desire that ye should remember to keep the commandments of God; and would that ye should declare unto the people these words. Behold, I have given unto you the names of our first parents who came out of the land of Jerusalem; and this I have done that when you remember your names ye may remember them; and when you remember their names ye may remember their works; and when you remember their works ye may know how that it is said, and also written, that they were good.
“Therefore, my sons, I would that ye should do that which is good, that it may be said of you, and also written, even as it has been said and written of them” (Helaman 5:6–7).
When Helaman spoke these words, 500 years had passed away and they were still remembering Lehi and Nephi of old and what examples they were as the first prophets in the Book of Mormon; they were still naming their children after them because of their good example and their good works.
Try to visualize your own future. You too can begin a legacy by the way you act. Someday you will have children just as Helaman did. In generations to come they can look back and say that you were good.
My father’s name was John. I have a hard time counting how many of his grandchildren and great-grandchildren are named after him because he was such a good man. He was honorable and well-loved, so his posterity named their children after this good man whose name they will remember by hopefully continuing that legacy.
I admonish you to make your name one that your family can be proud of and that will be remembered because of your good works for a long time. You should always keep your name clean and pure so that your grandchildren and great-grandchildren will remember you as an honorable person. They should be able to say that this wasn’t a person who took drugs or was involved in illicit sex or other sins, but one who remained faithful and worthy.
Believe me, your name will be remembered. For example, your missionary companions will speak of you whether you were a good missionary or not. It’s been many years since I served my mission, and I can still tell you the missionaries who gave everything, those who goofed off and broke mission rules, and those who did not give it their best. Many have expressed their regrets for not being the kind of missionary they could have been. Of course, nobody is perfect. However, as President Hinckley has asked, we should do the very best we can. Your name carries through from the time you are a young person up through your mission, through adulthood and beyond.
I worked as a real estate developer, and it’s not easy to get farmers to sell you their land. But I can tell you of many instances when I went out to find land to purchase and people asked me, “Are you John Arnold’s son?”
I would say, “Yes, I am.”
And they would say, “He was an honest man. I’m sure you’ll be honest with us.” I bought several properties because of my father’s good name.
My father never made much money, but my parents were honest and hard working, and they taught these values to their children. My father worked at a copper mine. He didn’t earn enough money to send his sons and daughters on missions or to college, so my parents bought 1,000 chickens for us to raise so that we could sell the eggs. They also contracted to deliver a large number of newspapers each evening to our neighbors.
My father would have us go out to the chicken coops and shoot the rats out of the feed troughs because they would eat the chickens’ food. On many occasions I would go out with a flashlight and a small gun to shoot the rats that were in the hoppers eating the chickens’ food.
I’ll never forget one night when I was out on that particular assignment. My father came home from a Church meeting and looked down at me and said, “Son, what flashlight do you have?” I looked down and realized it was the one my father took to work, and it had the name of the copper mine on the side. My father said, “Son, that flashlight is for me to use on the job. You should never take anything from your employer for personal use—not even a pencil, a flashlight, or anything else. Go back and get another flashlight.” I am so grateful for my father’s legacy of honesty.
Most of the money from the eggs and delivering newspapers went into the bank to help pay for our education and our missions. Five of the children used the money to serve missions and all seven graduated from college. The lessons of value that my parents taught me on honesty, hard work, the Word of Wisdom, the law of chastity, and many other things continue to bless my life.
What legacy will you and I leave behind to be passed on to those who will remain after we have passed away—especially our children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren? I would hope it would be like that of Lehi and Nephi of old—a legacy of love, trust, and honor. We can and should set those who follow us for hundreds of years to come on a course that will lead them to happiness, joy, and eternal life.

One day when Vanessa was about eight and Joanna was six, their classical violin teacher gave them a little fiddle tune to learn. Fiddling is a way of playing traditional American folk tunes on a violin. The music is often intricate and always lively. It is used to accompany square dancing. And for Vanessa and Joanna it was great fun to play.

“We tried it and really liked it and asked her for more,” said Vanessa. But fiddle music is not often written down because there are so many variations possible on each melody. The girls started taking lessons from a fiddling teacher. Students learn new pieces by listening to their teacher and then reviewing the pieces by listening to them over and over on tapes. Having had ear training with the Suzuki method, the girls learned quickly.

At first the fiddle music was used as a treat or a reward. After they practiced for an hour on their classical pieces, then they got to practice a half an hour of fiddling. Just one little tune started Vanessa and Joanna, and later another sister, Mindy, and little brother, Jesse, on some interesting adventures. They really got into the fiddling music, and now they perform, with guitar and piano accompaniment from their mother and father, for the wards in their area and for special occasions such as county fairs and conventions. And they have been competing in fiddling contests for several years, including the national fiddling contest held yearly in Weiser, Idaho.

Because I studied Come, Follow Me, I think Heavenly Father helped me with school. At first I made lots of mistakes in my homework. Then my dad asked me to start by saying a prayer. After the prayer, I understood better. Soon I was no longer making as many mistakes. When my teachers received my homework, they would say, “Congratulations, Sarah! Keep doing what you are doing!”
I successfully completed my school year. And school at home went well, because we always started with a prayer, just like we do when we study Come, Follow Me.

When I periodically enter the Missionary Training Center in Provo, I am reminded of him when I view the replica of a stone that is on display in the main entrance. The inscription on the stone influenced President McKay throughout his whole life. The message came at a time when President McKay was very discouraged and downhearted while serving his first mission in Scotland. He had just received a rebuke from a Scottish woman to whom he had presented a tract. The prejudice and misconceptions he felt the people had toward him and the Church hurt him very deeply. As he departed from the Scottish town of Stirling after touring its historic castle on that same day, he had the following life-altering experience:

As we were coming back into town, I saw on my right an unfinished dwelling, over the front door of which there was some carving. That was most unusual, so I said to Elder Johnston, “I’m going to see what that is.” I was halfway up the graveled walk when there came to my eyesight a striking motto, carved in stone: “Whate’er thou art, act well thy part.” I repeated it to Elder Johnston as we walked into town to find a place for our lodgings before we began our work. We walked quietly, but I said to myself, or the Spirit within me whispered, “You are a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. More than that, you are a representative of the Lord Jesus Christ. You accepted the responsibility as a representative of the Church.” . . .
. . . I accepted the message given to me on that stone, and from that moment we tried to do our part as missionaries in Scotland. [David O. McKay, “My Young Friends . . .” President McKay Speaks to Youth, comp. Llewelyn R. McKay (Salt Lake City: Bookcraft, 1973), 39; see also “Pres. McKay Speaks to Pioneer Stake Youth,” Church News, 21 September 1957, 4]

President McKay spoke often of this experience and of how powerful and influential the message on the stone was to him and how it became an important guideline throughout his life. In fact, in his biography of President McKay, Francis Gibbons stated:
There can be no doubt that this experience, which planted the motto in his mind under such unusual circumstances, was one of the major factors in the growth and development of David O. McKay.

Rhoda Byrne Jared was born in Putnam, Tennessee, in 1820. Her father died when she was seven years old, and, being the eldest of seven siblings, she learned early how to perform many household duties done mostly by adults. She grew up three miles from a neighbor boy named Adolphia Young and married him at the young age of 16. Together they had eight children.

In the spring of 1842, her husband's distant cousin brought the message of the gospel to them. In a life history written by her daughter, it stated, "They were amazed to hear the message of the restoration and it rang true to them. They embraced the newly restored church with all their hearts."

Since Rhoda and her family accepted the invitation to be baptized, they now had a great desire to join the Saints in Nauvoo. With heavy hearts, they left behind their parents, families, and close friends, since they were the only ones that had accepted the gospel.

The years that followed came with many heartaches and trials but also many miracles.

Arriving in Nauvoo at the very peak of great persecution, and after two years of living and laboring among the Saints, they were among those who first heard the devastating news of the martyrdom of the Prophet Joseph Smith and his brother Hyrum.

Rhoda's husband worked among those laboring desperately to finish the Nauvoo Temple. In three months' time, from December of 1845 to February of 1846, they were among the 5,615 Saints that received the ordinance of the endowment in this temple.

While living in Nauvoo, Rhoda wrote a letter to her mother, which gives great insight of where she found strength to endure. She wrote, "Nauvoo is a city of Saints gathered from all parts of the world, as the old Prophet said, 'Two of a family and one of a city,' to do the commandments of God; even to build a house to His name. With a few exceptions, I believe they are the best people in the world. All is peace and quietness. The people are industrious, virtuous, and temperate, but now are the words of Paul verified, 'They that live Godly in Christ Jesus shall suffer persecution.' But in the midst of our afflictions, our hearts are made to rejoice, for we put our trust in that God who is able to light up a smile in the aspect of woe. His favor is richer than the finest gold, and His wisdom transcendeth all human understanding. His plans are founded in wisdom. He will perform His work and accomplish His purpose. Man cannot prevent it."

After being forced by the mobs from their home in 1846, the family arrived in Council Bluffs, Iowa. One year later, Rhoda experienced the first of her life's deepest sorrows when their 18-month-old baby boy died from ague, or later known as malaria. Many of their family members were also very ill, and it became clear they would not be able to start the journey west. As a family, they decided to give their oxen team, wagon, and supplies to another family who were healthy enough to make the trek west. This humble sacrifice meant that the family would have to start working all over again to obtain the necessary supplies.

It took four more years to raise the funds necessary to make the trek west, in which time they returned to Tennessee to work and sell their share of the family estate. While living with Rhoda's parents, their 10-year-old daughter passed away after a one-day illness. This was the second child to be buried and left behind since they were still determined to make their way to Zion.

The family boarded a steamboat in St. Louis, Missouri, called the Saluda, carrying many Mormon immigrants bound for Iowa. Along the route, a narrow channel with very strong currents made it difficult for boats to make a sharp turn in the river. After two days of no progress, the frustrated captain ordered an increase in steam pressure, which caused the boilers to explode. Approximately 100 people were killed, but, miraculously, none of Rhoda's family were harmed. All of their possessions were destroyed except for the money that Adolphia had in his pocket, but because of their faith and determination, they eventually joined the Saints in Winter Quarters and joined the Captain Tidwell wagon train.

One hundred miles into Nebraska, cholera struck their camp, and Rhoda's husband passed away on July 5, 1852, and 3 days later, and 50 miles further west, their 8-year-old son also died. This faithful wife and mother buried both husband and son along the trail west without a coffin or marked grave and only a blanket to wrap them in.

At this point, brothers and sisters, I feel it would have been understandable for Rhoda to pick up her remaining five children and return to her family in Tennessee for the much-needed comfort and support. She now had the task of raising her children without a companion, without extended-family support, and without the means to provide for them once they reached Salt Lake Valley. What would you do if you were Rhoda? Would you continue on to Zion? Would you have enough faith in the Lord to stay on the path?

At this seemingly impossible time, Rhoda decided her children needed a family motto to live by and to sustain them. After praying for guidance, the family decided on the motto "Hope on, Hope ever." The family continued with the wagon company and arrived in the Great Salt Lake in September of 1852.

As bad as things were at school, they were worse at home. With Dad gone and Mom working so many hours, my brothers and I were left in charge of the house, inside and out. To my horror, even though we were doing our best, we got anonymous notes about what a mess our yard was and what a disgrace we were to the neighborhood. I had to agree. Our home and yard did not look as good as the others. I was ashamed to invite friends over.

When I started early-morning seminary, things changed. They got better. I was introduced to someone I could relate to—someone who had problems worse than mine. The difference was that while I felt sorry for myself, he stayed close to the Lord and refused to complain. The person I’m talking about is Nephi.

Sister Mortensen, my seminary teacher, pointed out that no one escapes heartbreak or pain in life—not even Nephi. What made Nephi great was that he never lost hope or his testimony while he battled one problem after another. Nephi helped me realize that my biggest problem in life was not my parents’ divorce or my bright pants or things and people beyond my control. My biggest problem was my attitude, something I have complete control over.

Nephi’s family had their world turned upside down. Unhappy that their dad led them away from their home and possessions, Nephi’s brothers began to murmur and complain. Nephi, on the other hand, prayed for understanding.

Nephi’s brothers took a lot of their frustrations out on him. They hit him with a rod, bound him with cords, and even plotted to kill him. Hearing how violent they were toward Nephi made me realize how insignificant Mike and the bullies in my life were. What’s amazing is that while I felt nothing but contempt for those who were unkind to me, Nephi was patient and loving and “did frankly forgive them all that they had done” (1 Ne. 7:21).

While most of my friends didn’t say much about my family situation, one friend called to say her mother no longer wanted her to be friends with me. Her mom said people like me who came from families with problems were a bad influence. I burst into tears and after that spent many nights crying myself to sleep.

Nephi also admits to crying himself to sleep. He said, “Mine eyes water my pillow by night” (2 Ne. 33:3). The difference was that Nephi, during the day, continually prayed for his family, something that hadn’t occurred to me because I was too busy wallowing in my tears.

While Nephi came from a family with many problems, he remained true. His way of dealing with pain and anguish was to lean upon Heavenly Father.

Nephi never fell into Satan’s trap of thinking Heavenly Father’s love could be measured by how well things were going for him. Nephi proved that while we don’t always have a choice about the bad things that happen to us, we always have a choice about how we respond to these problems.

Nephi explained, “I did liken all scriptures unto us, that it might be for our profit and learning” (1 Ne. 19:23).