Gospel Story Finder

The four years of graduate school when I was working to obtain my doctorate degree were a particularly difficult time in our lives. We moved away from home and family for the first time as a couple. The curriculum was rigorous and the expectations were very high, which meant long hours of study and preparation for classes. We had three young kids at the time and were doing our best to figure out how to be parents. Money was very tight, and we often worried about our ability to provide for our needs both then and in the future. It was during this same time that Kristie developed a long-term illness and we had very few answers for how to care for her. All of these things combined to make it both a physically and emotionally difficult time for our family.

Just so you don’t think the whole graduate school experience was a bad experience, there were many positive, happy, and even funny experiences that we had during this time as well. For example, I began playing racquetball with a friend five or six mornings per week for several months. After playing so frequently for so long, it started to take an interesting toll on me. Have you ever had the experience when you are just starting to fall asleep, and you dream you are falling and suddenly wake up in a panic? Rather than dreaming I was falling when I started to doze off to sleep, I began dreaming I was playing racquetball. I would wake up suddenly as I swung the racquetball racquet as hard as I could, but luckily there was no racquet. I’m sure it startled Kristie much more than it startled me since she was oftentimes lying in the path of my swing. Luckily, dreams are much more exaggerated than reality, and I never came close to actually hitting her with my make-believe racket.

In the midst of all of the difficulties of graduate school, we had many experiences that reinforced in our own minds and hearts that God loved us and was aware of and supporting us through our struggles. We decided to make it a high priority to attend the temple in Mesa, about an hour and a half drive away from our home, at least once per month. Because we couldn’t afford a babysitter very often, many of these monthly temple trips involved us packing a lunch and going to the temple as a family on a Saturday, with Kristie and I taking turns participating in temple ordinances while the other one of us played with the kids at a nearby park. Like Jerry and Cynthia, our testimony of God’s love for us grew as we participated in and grew to love the work of the temple.

We were also blessed through the kindness and generosity of friends and neighbors. We made some lifelong friends during those years who were a significant source of strength to us, as we hope we were to them. Like Mailee, Jarrett, Cynthia and Jerry, our family felt the love of God through the kindness and thoughtfulness of those around us.

We also felt the love of God through the scriptures, the words of modern-day apostles and prophets and through good music. I began reading the scriptures every day during my lunchtime as a way to stay closer to God, and to receive His power more fully in my life. Rather than listening to popular music on the car ride to and from school each day, I listened to conference talks or uplifting music. By doing our very best to stay close to our Father in Heaven, despite it being difficult at times, we more fully recognized His hand in our lives and felt His love for us as we pushed forward through those trials. Those years resulted in significant spiritual growth for us and laid a strong foundation for a lifetime of relying on God as we have navigated life’s challenges.

This past summer I was invited to hike to a lake called Gunsight, a gorgeous glacier lake in the White Clouds mountain range, where we would spend a day fishing. This would be a one-day event:hike in, fish, and hike back out.

When I inquired about the terrain of the trail, my younger brother exclaimed, “It’s basically a goat trail.” In other words, no trail. As we began our journey, I quickly learned what he meant. For the first quarter of the trip, we ascended up the trail, with the final destination climbing down towards the lake.

After an enjoyable, relaxing day of fishing, we reversed the process and headed back out. My preparation helped me get into the lake but did not quite prepare me, or my legs, for the ascent out. As you can see, I made it.

Be prepared to accomplish hard things. Before a long race, marathon runners plan and prepare themselves by getting the proper nutrients to complete a race. This preparation helps them avoid “hitting the wall,” a sudden urge to quit that happens three-quarters of the way through the race.

As I reflect back on my hike, I think about how I was not as prepared as I thought I was. I think about each foot placement and navigating over those boulders, where the slightest wrong move could have been a tragedy.

“Along in the early fall, we used to find wild fruit such as choke cherries, service berries and little red berries called buffalo or squaw berries, all of which we enjoyed very much. One day I decided to have a reception that evening. So after we camped I asked some of the girls and boys to come and spend the evening at our camp fire after their chores were done. Verbal invitations and short notice never gave offense then. All were delighted to come, no regrets.
“In the meantime, I had asked mother to let me make some buffalo berry pies. Of course, she did. Pies were a great luxury and seldom seen on the plains. I wanted to surprise my guests with the sumptuousness of my refreshments. And I did. Well, I had hardly gotten the ox yokes and some other things artistically arranged before my company arrived, not so fashionably late as now. After we had chatted a while and sung some songs, I excused myself to go into the pantry (a box under the wagon) and brought out my pies. In passing the pie, I rather apologetically remarked that they might not be quite sweet enough. One gallant young man spoke up very quickly, saying, ‘Oh anything would be sweet made by those hands.’ And I believed him.
“After serving the company, I joined them with my piece of pie. Well, the first mouthful, oh my, it set my teeth on edge, and tasted as if it had been sweetened with citric acid! That ended my pie making on the plains. I often wondered how they could have eaten it, but etiquette demanded it. I don’t think there was enough sugar in the camp to have sweetened that pie.”

When I was two years old, my father died, leaving my mother and six children. My oldest brother, Lincoln, was seventeen at the time and was still in high school.
When he graduated, Lincoln began working full time to support us. He never complained about having to work so hard at such a young age or about not being able to go to college or serve a mission, both of which he wanted so much. Lincoln was always dependable and faithful, and later in life he managed a business and served as a wonderful stake president and mission president. Many people loved him because of his character and his cheerful, gracious personality.
It was Lincoln who taught me how important it is to feel needed.

As the breeze calms down and the fire burns brighter, Sterling Garns expresses his gratitude for the brotherhood he felt in his Aaronic Priesthood quorums before he left to attend Brigham Young University.
“A lot of us have been in this ward since we were deacons, and I feel like we’ve always been pretty close. We’ve done a lot together and our leaders have taken good care of us,” he says. “I feel blessed to have had good friends and a good family.
“Right now, you’re probably in your comfort zone with the ward, the school, your family, a lot of what you do. Until you leave, you may not realize how much you rely on your family, especially your parents, for spiritual strength. But once you are out on your own, you can feel like there is no one but yourself to rely on to stay strong in the Church. It’s so important to get close to the Savior, to read your scriptures, to pray, to do all those things you’ve been taught to do. It’s easy to drift if you don’t stay anchored. Do the right things now and it will make them easier to do later.”
Sterling also talks about his desire to serve a full-time mission.
“You talk about it your whole life, and then all of a sudden the decision is here. Like one of our ward leaders said, time passes in a blink. I think a mission is a good thing to do. There are things we can learn and do that we won’t have an opportunity to do at any other time. The rest of the world may think we are crazy to do it. But if you really believe in the Church and the Lord, it’s the right thing to do.”
Sterling sits down and hugs his younger brother Tyler, one of the graduating seniors. These are brothers who’ve been close—surfing together, quarterback and cornerback at the same high school, not a lot of fighting and disagreeing, just good interaction.
“He’s going on his mission,” Tyler says quietly. “In ten months, I’ll be going on mine.” Reality is starting to set in, that missionary service will likely separate these brothers. But the closeness they demonstrate also shows that the separation will be merely geographic, and the eventual reunion full of joy.

On April 14, 2006, my 11-year-old sister, Alexandra, died in a car accident. A few weeks later, my mom was reading to me and she started crying because she missed my sister. I hugged her and told her not to cry, that my sister would want us to be happy because she was in a happy place. Several months later, Mom began to cry again. I put my arms around her. I comforted her and told her not to cry, and that everything would be OK.
When I was baptized, my mom reminded me that I made a covenant with Heavenly Father. In Mosiah 18:8–9 it says we need to be “willing to bear one another’s burdens, that they may be light; Yea, and are willing to mourn with those that mourn; yea, and comfort those that stand in need of comfort.” I’m grateful I was baptized and could be there to comfort and help my mom.

I remember my Laurel teacher saying recently, “If you want to love someone, do something for him.” As she said that I was so touched by the Spirit that I knew it had to be true. I’d been struggling with a relative for quite a while, so I decided to experiment with this idea on her.

Well, to make a long story short, I now consider my sister my very best friend. The love I feel for her is inexpressible. I gave her all I could give, and the Lord, in turn, gave me the strength to forgive and the spirit to love.
Sharlene Weatherman, 18Roy, Utah

It’s not unusual to see two girls giggling as they try to stay up on ice skates. But how often do they do it while working on Personal Progress? In this case, it’s one of many things young women in the Centerville Ward of the Fremont Stake in northern California have done to help one of their own. The skating activity was tailor-made to fit the needs of Jennifer Beck, who has Down syndrome.
Motivated by the spiritual growth and blessings they had seen others receive through participation in Personal Progress, the stake Young Women presidency prayerfully sought guidance about how to help Jennifer, a Mia Maid. Their prayers were answered when they found the following instruction:
“Value Experiences and Value Projects may be modified according to personal or local circumstances, interests, and needs with the prior approval of parents and Young Women leaders. … After careful consideration by parents and leaders, modifications may be appropriate to meet the needs of young women with disabilities” (Guidebook for Parents and Leaders of Youth [pamphlet, 2001], 19–20).
That was how to bring Personal Progress to Jennifer!
The young women and their leaders were asked to read through the Value Experiences in the Personal Progress book and to select one that they felt they could help Jennifer complete. They were encouraged to modify the selected value experience to better suit Jennifer’s abilities by asking themselves, “What is the intent of this Value Experience? What is it that Jennifer is supposed to learn from this experience?”
Each young woman made a written commitment to carry out the Value Experience they would share with Jennifer. All of the commitments were organized onto a calendar indicating who would meet with Jennifer each month and what experience would be completed. This commitment calendar ensured that Jennifer would experience Personal Progress on a regular basis without being overwhelmed. It also helped the Young Women presidency, Jennifer, and her parents to track what she had accomplished.
Since then, Jennifer has had regular Personal Progress experiences that have helped her feel the Spirit and better understand her own divine nature. “Suppose 23 girls took a special interest in you,” her mother, Judy, says. “When people spend time with Jennifer, she feels a bond that makes her life much richer.”
The young women and leaders who have partnered with Jennifer have also received unexpected blessings. “When I met with Jennifer to complete the sixth Value Experience, in Choice and Accountability, I felt like I received more than I gave,” remembers one of the stake leaders. “Hearing her simple yet pure understanding of the Young Women theme and what it means to be a daughter of God taught me so much about His love for each one of us. I felt her testimony of Jesus Christ when I met with Jennifer to create a collection of pictures of the Savior for a sacrament picture book.”
Laura Dunford worked with Jennifer to teach her the principle of tithing. “We made a little box for savings, one for spending money, and most importantly, one for tithing,” Laura explains. “It was really fun. Jennifer is wonderful, and I love her.”
Emily Topham helped Jennifer perform service. “I knew she liked to cook, so I decided to help her make a pizza dinner for her family. We laughed a lot, and afterward she told me her family enjoyed the yummy food. We were both happy to make someone smile.”
At Christmastime Jennifer was able to participate in a hand-bell concert at an interstake pageant. This was a thrilling experience, one she remembers and often talks about.
Jennifer also recalls working in the ward nursery, learning about service by collecting donations for a humanitarian project, learning about listening to clean music and watching appropriate movies, and of course ice skating.
With diligent effort and some help from her friends, Jennifer Beck completed her Personal Progress goals and received her Young Women Medallion. The young women and their leaders in the Freemont Ward appreciated this opportunity to share spiritual experiences with Jennifer, and they continue to be blessed by her sweet testimony and loving spirit. They truly have become united.

On June 1, 1843, Addison Pratt left Nauvoo, Illinois, to preach the gospel in the Hawaiian Islands, leaving his wife, Louisa Barnes Pratt, to care for their young family.

In Nauvoo, as persecutions intensified, forcing the Saints to leave, and later at Winter Quarters as they prepared to migrate to the Salt Lake Valley, Louisa faced the decision of whether to make the journey. It would have been easier to stay and to wait for Addison to return than to travel alone.

On both occasions, she sought guidance from the prophet, Brigham Young, who encouraged her to go. Despite the great difficulty and her personal reluctance, she successfully made the journey each time.

Initially, Louisa found little joy in traveling. However, she soon began to welcome the green prairie grass, colorful wildflowers, and patches of ground along the riverbanks. “The gloom on my mind wore gradually away,” she recorded, “and there was not a more mirthful woman in the whole company.”

Louisa’s story has deeply inspired me. I admire her willingness to set aside her personal preferences, her ability to trust God, and how exercising her faith helped her to see the situation differently.

She has reminded me that we have a loving Father in Heaven, who cares for us wherever we are, and that we can trust Him more than anyone or anything else.

A few months ago, I was standing in a hall when Elder Neil L. Andersen walked by. I had just been called as a new General Authority. Likely sensing my feelings of inadequacy, he smiled and said, “Well, there looks like a man who has no idea what he is doing.”
And I thought, “There is a true prophet and seer.”
Elder Andersen then whispered, “Don’t worry, Elder Shumway. It gets better—in five or six years.”

Shyness and nervousness have always made my life difficult. High school and college were trying because I was too afraid to answer questions verbally. Job interviews were equally hard, and it was difficult for me to secure employment.
After I joined the Church, sometimes I did not go to Church meetings for fear of being asked to offer a prayer. I felt bad having a testimony and not sharing it with my brothers and sisters, but I was too nervous to speak up. One Sunday I was asked to offer a spiritual thought the next week. As I walked home after church that Sunday, I thought seriously of never returning.
But that afternoon, I decided to have a nap. Before I dozed off, my six-year-old son, David, walked into the bedroom holding a copy of the Pearl of Great Price. He had opened the book to Moses, chapter 6, and he asked me to read it to him. I reluctantly told him I was tired and quickly closed the book. He pleaded, “Please, Mommy, just read here!” He again opened to Moses, chapter 6, his little fingers pointing to verse 31. I started to read:
“And when Enoch had heard these words, he bowed himself to the earth, before the Lord, and spake before the Lord, saying: Why is it that I have found favor in thy sight, and am but a lad, and all the people hate me; for I am slow of speech; wherefore am I thy servant?
“And the Lord said unto Enoch: Go forth and do as I have commanded thee, and no man shall pierce thee. Open thy mouth, and it shall be filled, and I will give thee utterance, for all flesh is in my hands, and I will do as seemeth me good” (Moses 6:31–32).
Even before David asked me to explain these scriptures, I had a new feeling within me. In the best and simplest way I could, I spoke to him in Kiswahili, our native tongue, and explained that the Lord promised to help Enoch; the Lord said He would make Enoch’s weakness his strength (see Ether 12:27). David smiled at me and told me to continue resting.
I did not go to sleep but spent the time pondering the realization that I am a special child of God. He had a purpose in sending me to earth.
The next Sunday I was nervous, but I gave the spiritual thought. I was later called as a Relief Society teacher, and with the help of the other sisters and my loving Heavenly Father, I was able to teach the lessons. Currently I am the first counselor in the Relief Society presidency of the Parklands Branch, Nairobi Kenya District.
It is amazing how the scriptures can bring light into our lives, both spiritually and temporally. I have continued to find joy and peace through reading the scriptures.

Introducing the gospel to my father was important to me. He attended another church and was an elder in that church but had been denied baptism because he was married three times. My mother was the first wife. He visited us and I told him about the missionaries. He did not think there could be truth anywhere else but in his Methodist church. As he learned more about the Church, he decided to be baptized. He had been sick off and on for a while. After he was baptized, he felt better and went home.
My hope was that he would stay strong in the Church. Every Sunday he would sit with the Book of Mormon and sing hymns. He especially liked hymns 44 and 45— “Beautiful Zion, Built Above” and “Lead Me into Life Eternal.” Some of his family members deserted him because of the truth that he embraced. They said that I took him from the family church. He told them that God brought the Church to him for his sake. He was given a blessing by President Albert Mutariswa, of the Nigeria Enugu Mission.
A branch was established in Ojantell and my father gave his own house to be used for the Church and there were many baptisms because of that. Before his death, he said that the Church would have access to his house for meetings until they no longer needed it. The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints gave him a befitting burial. I plan to go to the temple and do the baptism for my mom and seal them together with his children.

I couldn’t focus on my homework today. Mom asked what was wrong. I guess I’m still wondering about the priesthood. She said when she has a question that doesn’t have a clear answer, she puts it on the “back burner” of her mind. She doesn’t ignore the question, but she doesn’t let it crowd out all the things she DOES understand. She has the faith to wait for answers, and she trusts that Heavenly Father knows what’s best. That’s OK, I guess, but I hate waiting.

As the time to leave Nauvoo drew near, the Brethren redoubled their efforts to help as many Saints as possible receive their endowments. Brigham Young wrote, “Such has been the anxiety manifested by the saints to receive the ordinances (of the Temple), and such the anxiety on our part to administer to them, that I have given myself up entirely to the work of the Lord in the Temple night and day, not taking more than four hours sleep, upon an average, per day, and going home but once a week.”

But it was not just the Apostles who were working hard. Many faithful Saints gave freely of their time by washing the temple clothing each night so the temple work could continue the next morning.

The Brethren planned to stop the ordinance work on 3 February 1846. President Young left the temple to make final preparations to leave Nauvoo, but upon seeing a large crowd gathered to receive their endowments, he returned. This delayed his departure for another two weeks, but it meant that 5,615 Saints were endowed before they left Nauvoo.

Bruce eased his paddle into the lake water, slicing the dark substance noiselessly, watching the droplets drip from the end of his wooden blade, interrupting the rhythm of his strokes to observe the shimmering return of water to water. Wet diamonds, Bruce thought, as he watched the droplets recombine with the lake.
For the moment, they were the richest and loveliest jewels he could know.
It was late September, and the predusk air was just beginning to acquire the distinctive and leafy mustiness of early autumn. The Connecticut evenings were chilly already, yet Bruce sensed the first morning of frost was still weeks away. When he was younger, the coming of the frost mattered little to him, for September meant only one horrible and inescapable event: the removal of freedom. He was not conscious of beginnings then, as he was today; he was aware only of endings. He smiled as he pushed the paddle deep into the water again, for he could still feel the horrible cringe in his mind that haunted him during the last weeks of summer every year. How he hated to relinquish the freedom of his summer to the walls of a school.
And they had been extraordinary summers. After finishing his job at the pet shop or completing his gardening assignments at Geysmar’s estate, he would hop into his beat-up VW, pick up Bob at the gas station, and they’d rumble and downshift their way over the winding roads to the lake. A few cans of soda, some bug repellant and fishing tackle, and they were set at least until dark. Sometimes longer.
Again Bruce smiled, this time more to the familiar back that occupied the forward seat of his canoe than to the endless water. He had picked Bob up tonight at his gas station, both of them curious to try out the old fishing spots one more time before Bruce took off for Utah and then Germany. They had left the station at 4:30, and when they arrived at the lake, there still were a few hours of daylight left.
“You really think there’s fish left in this puddle?” Bob asked, as he and Bruce lifted the canoe off the roof of the Bug and carried it over their heads to the water’s edge. “Bet the acid rain has just about wiped this place out.”
“Sure there’s fish. How can you doubt it? You just have to find them.” But they had found none so far, Bruce had to acknowledge, though the reawakening of memories had been well worth the trip.
“Hey Bruce, can’t you remember those stars?” Bob said. The silent onset of dusk had begun to slip in over the lake. “Don’t you remember those nights?” He was silent for a moment, then continued. “It really isn’t that long ago—just two years since the last time we were up here, right? But man! Those stars. Sometimes when I work the pumps at night now, I remember those stars.”
How could anyone forget them, Bruce thought, checking his line for bass as Bob spoke. They had been trolling the lake for about a half hour now, but still no luck. Sometimes it was like that.
“Those stars, Bruce.” Bob laughed. “Man, I still can’t say what they make me feel.”
They stopped paddling, then floated freely, words stuck in the stuff of their memories. Suddenly it seemed to Bruce that he was 14 again, and he and Bob were lying on their backs on the seats of their old rowboat, their lines limp at the side of the boat.
“Hey Bruce, do you think there’s ever an end to those stars?” Bob had asked. And Bruce had felt it then, as surely as he knew it again this evening, that the stars stretched on forever.
“Can’t you imagine a wall out there, Bruce? Can’t you feel it? You know, all of a sudden you reach the end of the space, and then there’s this big giant wall. Bam! That’s it. The big end.” And they had laughed.
But Bruce had found that he had to stop laughing that night. The waters licked softly at the base of the boat; a peeper sounded from the shore. There was nothing but blackness in the middle of the lake, all that black and silent water. Bruce shook his head vigorously, shutting his eyes, sitting up so suddenly that he hurt the bones in his back on the seat of the boat.
“No way, Bobby,” Bruce said, still shaking his head. “I just can’t handle that. It’s like something cracks—snap!—in my head. You know what I mean? I just can’t handle a wall in space. I just can’t handle it ending. Things have got to go on. Don’t you think, Bobby?” But it was more feeling than thinking, he knew.
Nights like that had made it easier to believe the missionaries, Bruce realized, when they had come knocking on his parents’ door. Nights like that had helped his new faith to seem almost reasonable. If space was endless, then life was endless, and endless life demanded a God. And if there was a God, Bruce just couldn’t imagine any other church being truer than the one that the missionaries had taught to him. He’d felt it as sure as he felt the warmth of the sun. And so he’d done it. He’d slipped gently into the bright waters of baptism, knees bending, his white clothes clinging to him as he felt his body going down and then up, lifted from the wetness by some power much greater than skinny old Elder Larsen. He had felt himself rising from the waters, a new person.
Water. It was always water for him. Once, when he was ten, he had tried to walk on the lake water. Lying on his back on the dock near his parents’ old cabin on the lake, he had become curious with the possibilities of faith. He had heard the story countless times in his Methodist Sunday School of the Savior walking on the water, but now his wondering made him restless. If he had enough faith, would the substanceless substance become firm beneath him? He stepped confidently out, then fell clumsily into the water.
“You caught any fish back there?” Bob asked, snapping Bruce back into the present.
Bruce looked at his line; it hung lifelessly in the dark.
“Maybe it’s time to head back,” Bob suggested.
Bruce said nothing. It was hard to stop fishing. He was always filled with the wild hope of just one more minute, just one more moment of patience, and then the tiniest movement of the line would come. If you weren’t careful, you would miss that gentle sign of interest, and the hope would be gone.
“Another 15 minutes, Bob. Let’s wait till it’s real dark. Then we’ll go back.”
Bruce reeled in his line, then pulled the pole back and cast out with one final hope for success. Setting the rod in the bottom of the canoe, he turned in the seat to get more comfortable and bumped his pole in the process. It jerked precariously, the line getting caught under the bow of the canoe. Impulsively, Bruce reached his hand into the black and unknowable water, the dark liquid now fused with the dimming horizon that was tentatively lit by a few of the earliest stars. Bruce tugged at the trapped line with his hand, freeing it, and then, for some reason, felt reluctant to let it go. Unexpectedly, the line raced through his enclosing fingers, pulled taut with certain promise.
“Hey Bob!” Bruce called softly, carefully pulling his hand in from the water, unwilling to disturb the pulse of the line. “I think I’ve got something, my friend.”

As a young child, Kavira V. couldn’t communicate with anyone. But now she’s found ways to connect with others, including her Heavenly Father.
Sixteen-year-old Kavira V. from Florida, USA, knows the value of communication. Whether with family, with friends, or with God, Kavira is glad to be able to talk to them.
Part of the reason she values that connection so much is that she knows what it’s like not to have it.
Before moving to Florida, Kavira’s family originally lived in Uganda. Kavira is deaf and didn’t have access to sign language as a child, so she couldn’t really communicate with people around her.
That communication barrier affected many aspects of her life. Regarding school, she says, “Math was hard for me. I didn’t learn English, and I was bullied. There was a lot of discrimination.”
Church was hard too. At that time her family belonged to a different faith. “I didn’t have language access, so I didn’t understand what was going on,” Kavira says. She would sit through the services and go through the rituals without knowing what they meant. “There weren’t many opportunities for Deaf people,” she says.
The barrier also affected her connection to her family. “I’m the only Deaf person in my family, so sometimes I would feel unequal to them.”
When Kavira was around eight or nine years old, her family moved to Florida. Since she was young and couldn’t communicate with them, she didn’t know exactly why they chose to move. But it could have been to find better opportunities for her and the whole family.
When Kavira’s family moved to Florida, they found a deaf school she could attend. “Being able to have that education is amazing,” she says. “I’ve been able to learn things like math, communication, life skills like finding a job, and study skills.” She now uses American Sign Language (ASL).
She also enjoys extracurricular activities. “I like any kind of sports,” she says. “Growing up, I always played soccer, and I found out they have it here [in the U.S.] too.” She’s also learned volleyball, flag football, basketball, and swimming. “It’s been fun learning these new sports.”
And since Kavira was little she’s always loved art. She hopes to improve and maybe even continue studying art in college. “I want to keep studying to learn more,” she says. “I really enjoy school and learning.”
Kavira’s parents encourage her in her education. “They say to do what you can to learn everything,” she says. She’s very grateful that her family found a deaf school for her.
After learning more, Kavira doesn’t feel unequal in her family anymore, because she has realized she’s the same as them. She talks to her parents and siblings a lot. “I know sometimes as youth, we don’t really value our family—maybe sometimes we value our friends more than our family,” says Kavira. “But my family is what has made me strong. My parents have taught me the things I should value. They’ve helped me to be a good and kind person.”
“My family is what has made me strong,” says Kavira.

I received a letter recently from a young friend in California who served a mission in Chile. He wrote of a never-to-be-forgotten baptism in which he had participated of a man and a wife and their two children. He recalled the incredible faith of the father, who had worked as a humble horse-racing stable hand, with very limited education but with great faith in gospel principles. This man accepted the gospel and lived it and taught his family by example.
“As missionaries, we considered this family perhaps our best conversion,” he wrote. “The father had an unusual attitude about work—hard work—so as to provide for his family and to be able to serve the Lord.”
My friend had just learned that this good man has now, thirteen years later, been called to serve in the stake presidency in his stake.

At one time in my life, I thought that I didn’t need visiting teachers myself. I had a strong testimony of the gospel, and I had no major problems. But one year I was alone on Christmas Eve. My husband was busy shopping, and all my children were married and living out of the country, except for one daughter, who couldn’t come. The house was so empty without the hugs of my little grandchildren. I’m not used to feeling sorry for myself, but that night I sat down in the dark in my living room and let the tears run down my cheeks. Just at that moment the doorbell rang. My visiting teachers! My dear sisters had come to bring me a greeting of Christmas joy. It was as if the Lord himself had reminded me that I was not alone.
By the time they left, my mood had completely changed. I turned on the lights, put on my best dress, decorated the table, and prepared a special supper. When my husband came in, we celebrated Christmas together and gave thanks that we were both alive and healthy.

When Henry Marsh loses a race, it’s news. He made that kind of news twice last year, not at all in 1982, and once in 1981. One of the items of news he made last year simply involved getting overtaken at the finish line. That’s very very rare. The other news he made was even rarer. At the World Championship in Helsinki, Finland, he hit the barrier on the last water jump and went into the water, making not only news but a splash heard ’round the track world.

“Down” was a rather new dimension when Henry discovered it on the last water jump in Helsinki. He not only lost the race and his number one ranking, but came out of the water pit with painfully bruised ribs. There was no way he could run the following week in Berlin, Germany.

But he did. Although his ribs screamed at him to stop, he not only won the race in Berlin, but turned in an American and personal record of 8:12.37. But that’s not really news, is it?

This happened to me when I was serving my mission. For a while, I felt that my prayers were going unnoticed by Him. But with time I searched the scriptures and came across different verses like Doctrine and Covenants 88:63–64:
“Draw near unto me and I will draw near unto you; seek me diligently and ye shall find me; ask, and ye shall receive; knock, and it shall be opened unto you.
“Whatsoever ye ask the Father in my name it shall be given unto you, that is expedient for you.”
I meditated on those words, studied prophetic counsel, and prayed several times a day. As I tried to trust that He could guide me and provide me with answers, I felt my faith in Him growing, and I started noticing more promptings from the Spirit each day.