Gospel Story Finder

Faculty and staff will remember Dustin Bradshaw. He is an eternal optimist, driven to succeed. After graduating six years ago, he helped staff the International Entrepreneurship Center on campus while his wife Hiva finished her degree. An offer to become a Foreign Service officer in the U.S. Department of State took them to the U.S. Embassies in Manila and Instanbul. Those years were exciting for the Bradshaws: “We had a front row seat in seeing the Church grow in both areas and were blessed serving in the Lord’s worldwide vineyard. We developed a love for the people we worked with and lived around that will continue for years.” After a brief stint with LDS Philanthropies, Dustin joined the Self-Reliance Perpetual Education department at church headquarters to help establish Self-Reliance Services across the United States.

A true story from the USA.
Max bopped his head in rhythm with the song playing on the car radio. He couldn’t wait! Today Mom was taking him to play with his cousin, Preston. But just as his favorite part of the song came on, Mom turned down the music. He was about to ask her to turn it back up when he saw her face in the rearview mirror. She looked a little sad.
“What’s wrong?” Max asked.
“I have something to talk to you about before we get to Preston’s house,” Mom said. “Preston’s family has decided to stop going to church.”
Max and Preston were baptized on the same day. He thought about all the times they had gone to church together. It made him sad to think that might not happen anymore.
“Why?” Max asked.
Mom sighed. “Well, his parents don’t believe the Church is true anymore. Aunt Abby got a little upset with me the other day when we talked about church.”
Max felt a knot in his stomach. “What if Preston gets upset with me about it too?” Max whispered.
Mom looked back at Max in the mirror. “If you’re not sure what to say, just listen. The Holy Ghost will help you know what to do. No matter what, they are our family, and we will always love them.”
Max was a little nervous when he got to Preston’s house, but they quickly started talking and playing like normal. After their front-flip contest on the trampoline, they went inside for a drink. Max realized that it was almost time for Mom to pick him up.
“I’ve got to go soon,” Max said. “I wish I could stay longer.”
“You should spend the night!” Preston handed Max a glass of water.
Max took a drink. “I can’t. I have to get up early tomorrow.”
“For church?” Preston laughed. It wasn’t a friendly laugh. Max didn’t like the way it sounded.
“You should skip church,” Preston said. “Stay here. We’ll sleep in and then play all day. If you go to church, you’ll have to comb your hair and sit still while people talk about boring stuff.” He closed his eyes and pretended to fall asleep. Then he opened his eyes and laughed again. “Is it really worth it?”
Max was nervous. What should he say? He sipped his water, took a deep breath in, and silently prayed to know what to do. Then Max smiled and said simply, “Well … it’s worth it to me.”
Preston nodded slowly. “OK,” he said. “That’s cool. I just hope we can play again soon.”
“Me too,” Max smiled.
On the way home, Max told Mom what happened.
Mom listened quietly and smiled. “See? You listened to the Holy Ghost, and you knew just what to say.”
Max felt happy. He was glad that the Holy Ghost had helped him to be brave and stand up for what he knew was right.

It all started when my stake set up a project to help refugees. I really liked the project, so I asked my mom to tell my schoolteacher about it, and my teacher wanted to do something with the fourth grade. To set the example for the project, my sister, Maddie, and I went door to door asking for donations.
The day came to present the project to the rest of the fourth grade. I was a bit nervous. Actually, I was super freaked out, but I did my best. I told all the other fourth graders what we needed for school kits for the refugees. I told about how we went door to door, and I gave them a challenge to try to do better than me in raising money. Together we made over 100 kits! We put in notebooks, pencils, and other school supplies. We also added a note to say, “Welcome to Germany!”
My mom and I took the kits to the refugee camp. I wouldn’t say the camp was nice, but there was a playground and an area for learning academics. There was a train next to the camp that was really loud, and the kids told me it sounded like jets flying by in Syria and other places like that. Maybe it sounded like bombs to the kids who had heard them in their home countries.
I met a few kids at the camp my age, including Daniel, an awesome chess player. I didn’t get to play chess against him, which was too bad because I love chess, but they invited me to play foosball and ping-pong. The boys told me that they missed their homes and really wanted to leave the camp and go to school again.
After we played foosball and ping-pong, we handed out the kits. I feel good that I could do something kind for the kids who lived at the camps.

When I was only about eight years old, I wondered about the nature of God. One day my father read the scripture from the book of James that promises that if we lack wisdom, we can “ask of God, that giveth … liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given” (James 1:5). Those words filled my heart and were imprinted on my mind.
When I was alone in my bedroom, I prayed to God, asking Him to tell me if the church I was attending was the right one. I wanted Him to answer me immediately. But that didn’t happen. God didn’t do what I wanted, and I was sad that He hadn’t answered my prayer immediately. I wanted to know! I had done what I thought was sufficient.
Growing up, I had the opportunity to search for the answer in many churches. As I did, I got more and more confused. Everybody contradicted each other, and they would just gloss over my questions about the nature of God.
Years later, tired of searching, I said, “There is no answer.”
I began to do things that some modern youth do, such as partying and participating in a lot of worldly diversions. Each week I sank further and further into darkness because my decisions weren’t the best. The bad habits were also distancing me from my family, who had always supported me.
But once again the desire came to me to ask God. I prayed, “Father, I am here waiting. I have searched, and I have not found. The scriptures promise answers, but nothing is coming. Look at me. I am alone. I want to know, but I don’t know how to find You.”
At that time only—not before and not after, but just when I needed it—I felt that my chest burned as strong as if a volcano were inside of me. I couldn’t control the tears. I knew it was an answer to my question.
In the afternoon, when I was at school, I was thinking about my answer when my best friend asked me, “What are you thinking about, Ismael?” I didn’t give him a truthful answer then, telling him that I was thinking about the beach and that I wanted to go see the sunrise in the morning. I invited him to go.
“I can’t,” he told me, smiling.
“Why not?” I asked him. “What are you doing so early in the morning?”
“Seminary,” he said.
“Seminary? What is seminary?” I asked him. He explained to me that it was classes that his church held.
“How long have you been going to a church?” I asked him, surprised.
“As long as I can remember. I’m a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.”
I told him I wanted to go and see. I knew inside that it was an answer to my long years of prayer.
The next day I woke up at 5:30 a.m. and went to seminary. The greatest surprise was that they were studying the Bible. I can say that I have never felt such a strong feeling of peace as I did when I entered the branch’s building in Matancita, the Dominican Republic, where pure doctrine was shared, delicious to a soul that had sought so anxiously. The hymns sung filled my mind and my heart with a thought: “This is the truth.”
“Wow,” I thought, “I want to feel this every day.” I asked when I could come back, and the teacher, my friend’s mother, gave me the class schedule and invited me to come to the branch’s Sunday services also.
From then on, every Monday through Friday, I got up at 5:30 to go to seminary and every Sunday to church. I couldn’t miss. I had found what I had always been looking for.
Sadly, there were no missionaries to teach me and baptize me. After a year and a half and much prayer, missionaries arrived and taught me all of the missionary lessons in a week. I remember the moment when I was submerged in the blue waters on my village’s beautiful beach.
I now enjoy the privilege of being not a stranger or foreigner (see Ephesians 2:19) but a brother of all those who have entered in the path of the Lord, the strait and narrow path.

Thank you a thousand times over for the March 1988 issue on service. About three months ago I was assigned a service project for a bi-stake youth conference, and I stewed and fretted over my assignment for days. Why me? What could I possibly do to make this a success and yet fun and rewarding for these 14–18-year-olds? And with so many youth, it just had to go over well.

Days later my son Cleon received his New Era, and I went through it as I always do. WOW!—an answer to my prayers. Our youth conference is over now, and I had to sit down and thank you and the New Haven Connecticut Stake that shared this idea.

Our service project was a big hit, and the youth learned a lesson also in missionary work, because they now realize that everyone doesn’t open their doors with welcoming smiles and eagerness to all that knock on them. Now I know why, evermore, I appreciate and enjoy getting the New Era each month.

Linda PeckWinston Ward Young Women PresidentRoseburg, Oregon Stake

Lorenzo Snow first heard about the Church while he was still a young man. At first he had no desire to be baptized, even though his sister Eliza (the same Eliza R. Snow who wrote many Latter-day Saint hymns and served as the second general president of the Relief Society) had eagerly embraced the gospel. He did, however, find the Church’s doctrine very interesting. When Lorenzo began to attend college in Oberlin, Ohio, he would often share Church beliefs with the students who were training to become Protestant ministers. Although he hadn’t yet committed to be baptized, he presented the gospel so well that many of the students at Oberlin admitted the possible truth of the restored Church.
As strong a missionary as he was before he accepted the gospel, it’s no wonder that Lorenzo became even more dedicated to the work after he was baptized. During his early years as a member of the Church, he was called to serve several full-time missions. He first served in Ohio, followed by Missouri, Kentucky, and Illinois, USA. He was later sent to Great Britain to assist with the organization of the Church in England. While there, he even gave copies of the Book of Mormon to Queen Victoria and Prince Albert. He later served missions in Italy, Switzerland, and what would eventually become known as the Hawaiian Islands.
When Elder Snow left England to return to Nauvoo, Illinois, he brought a large group of newly baptized members with him. They all booked passage on the ship Swanton and prepared for the long journey to North America.
Although the captain of the Swanton was not unkind to the Latter-day Saints on his ship, he wasn’t exactly friendly either. He usually distanced himself from them. But after about two weeks at sea, something happened. The captain’s steward was badly injured in an accident. No one expected the steward to live through the night.
But one of the faithful sisters who had been attending to the dying sailor had a suggestion. She told the steward that Elder Lorenzo Snow could give him a blessing and that it might save his life. The steward—who was working to support his wife and two children back in Germany—eagerly agreed.
In the middle of the night, Elder Snow was awakened and asked to come to the dying man’s room. When he arrived, he met the captain of the ship. The captain thanked him for coming but expressed the hopelessness of the situation. Elder Snow could see that the captain had been crying.
He went into the room, laid his hands upon the steward’s head, and gave him a priesthood blessing. Immediately after Elder Snow finished the blessing, the man sat up and got out of bed. The steward was completely healed, and he returned to his duties the next day.
The healing of the steward changed things on board the Swanton. The captain began to spend as much time with the Saints as he could spare, and he even studied the gospel and attended Church meetings. The other sailors were just as impressed. When the ship reached its destination, the crew lovingly bid the Saints farewell. Through the power of the priesthood, not only was a man’s life saved, but several others were also given a glimpse of God’s power and love. The steward and many members of the crew were eventually baptized.
Many other amazing events occurred in the life of President Lorenzo Snow. So this year, while the adults are studying Teachings of Presidents of the Church: Lorenzo Snow, why not follow along? On Sundays or when you have some free time, you could read some of President Snow’s teachings. You’ll be able to contribute more to family gospel discussions, and in the process you’ll get to know an amazing man who became a prophet of God.

Recently my granddaughter Jennifer was invited to go with some of her school friends to a dinner and a movie. The girls all agreed on the movie they were going to see, and Jennifer was comfortable attending. However, the girl who left dinner to buy the movie tickets for the group returned with tickets to a different movie than was planned. She said, “It is a great show, and it’s R-rated.”

Jennifer, caught by surprise, couldn’t believe the situation had changed so quickly. But fortunately she had made up her mind before she ever found herself in this position that she would not watch R-rated movies. She was able to stand firm and say to her friends, “I can’t go see an R-rated movie. My parents would not approve.” To which the girls replied, “Oh, come on! Your parents will never know.” Confronted with this, Jennifer went on to say, “Well, actually it doesn’t matter whether my parents will know. I just don’t go to R-rated movies.”

Her friends were upset and tried to get her to relent. They told her she was ruining everything. When she would not give in, they threw the ticket and change in her face and deserted her for the R-rated movie. It wound up being a lonely night full of rejection from her friends. But it was a great moment for Jennifer and our family. She gained confidence, self-worth, and spiritual power.

A girl active in her sorority found that scripture reading helped her stay spiritual at school: “Well, I decided that if I promised to read the scriptures for thirty days, I would do it for thirty days—which wouldn’t do me too much good. So I promised to do it for the rest of my life. That was about six months ago. I’ve almost read the Book of Mormon three times since then and oh the difference! It has made possible the thing that I have always thought impossible, which is to be spiritual during the school year.”

When I was 18, my older brother, John, returned from his mission in England. He was determined to make sure I was also ready to serve. We had adjacent bedrooms, and at night we would sometimes speak to each other after we turned out the lights. One night, John’s voice pierced through the darkness.
“Dave, do you know that Joseph Smith was a prophet?”
“Of course, John,” I replied. John soon went to sleep, but I stayed awake, wondering if I really did know.
A few months later, I visited my sister and her family in Tokyo, Japan. At that time, the Tabernacle Choir was touring Asia. President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008), then a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, traveled with them.
I was invited to be an usher at several performances. One night I had the opportunity to sit with Elder and Sister Hinckley. Afterward, Elder Hinckley reached out to me.
“Now, young man,” he said, “you’re going to serve a mission, right?”
“Yes, sir,” I said.
“Good,” he replied.
That was it. But this 30-second interview built upon other experiences I was having. I realized that for me to become a missionary, I needed to have a testimony. So, I started studying the Book of Mormon and the life of the Prophet Joseph Smith.
One evening, I finished reading a book about Joseph Smith. I remember lying on the floor in my parents’ living room. I closed the book and had a peaceful feeling. The Spirit witnessed to me that Joseph was a prophet. I then realized that I needed to tell others about it. This solidified for me the decision to serve a mission.
I’m grateful I not only had the Spirit but that I also had the voices of my brother and Elder Hinckley encouraging me to head in the right direction. My life has been blessed because I listened to their voices.

In addition to digging, Abram has another great love—the Book of Mormon. When his younger sister passed away in 2005, Abram read the Book of Mormon for comfort. He says, “As I started reading it more, I really got interested, and now I’m studying more and more.”
Abram has learned a lot while studying. “It gave me a stronger testimony when Christ came to teach the people. And it talked about a lot of things that He taught that we still do today. That was a big leap in my testimony. It was really special,” he says.

When I got baptized, I immediately wanted to leave the Primary to go to Young Men and be able to begin my priesthood service. I started to really know my Heavenly Father and my identity. I helped clean the building on Saturdays, and came very early on Sundays, sometimes even before the building was open. As I grew older, my desire to serve a full-time mission grew likewise. Through seminary and institute, I was able to prepare for my mission and had the privilege to serve in the DRC Kinshasa West Mission from 2021 to 2023. I’m grateful for the restored gospel and for the joy it has brought to me and to my family.

I’ve spent quite a bit of time as a visitor at the Utah State Prison. Some of the best friends I have ever made were made there. I like to go there because every time I go, I learn something. I learn about personal pride. I learn something about performance. I learn something about people.
One day, when I was talking with the warden at the prison, I asked, “How many prisoners do you have here in the prison who might be classified as ‘impossible’?” I knew that the prison was over-crowded—over 800 prisoners in buildings large enough for only 600, and I knew also that there were a lot of prisoners who presented problems for the prison officials. I remember one day being in the prison yard with some of them and seeing a tattoo across the chest of one man that said “A Born Loser,” and he was out to prove it. So I was impressed when the warden said that, of all the prisoners at the Utah State Prison, there was only one whom he would classify as being really impossible or unreformable.
I asked him to tell me about the man. He said that that prisoner has to remain in his cell 23 hours and 40 minutes every day. He cannot be with anyone else. He isn’t insane; he’s just hardened. “We can’t give him any freedom,” the warden told me. “His meals are served in his cell through iron bars. He has toilet facilities and a bed, and that is where he stays all but about 20 minutes of the day, when he is taken out for a shower. The last time he was allowed to be with other prisoners he put a knife through another prisoner. He would do the same again if he were allowed any freedom.”
No personal pride. No worthy performance. No patience. The only thing he is accomplishing in his life is being number one—number one in impossibility.

Chris shuffled his feet a little to hear the brush, brush sound they made in the blue paper booties covering his shoes. He was standing in line with his family, waiting to go into the San Diego California Temple for the open house.
Dad bent down and put a hand on Chris’s shoulder. “Temple open houses are very special,” he said. “I remember when I went to the Provo Utah Temple open house. I had watched the workers building it from just an empty field up to a finished temple. When we were inside, I knew it was Heavenly Father’s house. I was a little bit older than you are, but you’ll remember this your whole life, just like I did.”
Mom turned toward them. “That’s right. I remember when I went to the Seattle Washington Temple open house a long time ago. That’s why we drove all the way here. Getting to tour a temple before it’s dedicated is a very special opportunity.”
Chris thought about their long drive through the desert to get to San Diego. There had been nothing interesting to look at out the windows, and his little sister cried most of the way. Even his older sister got a little bit tired of all the driving. But since they had come so far, he knew it was important.
Chris folded his arms and walked as quietly as he could in his blue paper shoes through the temple tour. He couldn’t remember ever being somewhere so beautiful. The carpet was white. The windows were tall. The pictures on the walls were beautiful. It felt more reverent than any place he had been before.
As they walked up the stairs, Chris held tightly to the handrail. He was smiling brightly.
Mom whispered to him, “How do you feel?”
Chris looked up at her and Dad. “I feel like I’m holding the iron rod.”

President Darryl Harris, Seoul Mission President, and I had just concluded a fireside for investigators in the Seoul Stake Center. Following the meeting, two sister missionaries came up to introduce themselves, one, a Korean sister, and the other, Sister Kristi K. Fielding. They were delightful, full of sparkle, as most lady missionaries tend to be. Following our conversation, they exited, hurrying back to their apartment before the "witching hour" of 9:30 p.m. You returned missionaries know what I mean.
A few minutes later, an Elder came running into the chapel to tell us that something had happened to Sister Fielding. We hurried outside only to find her screaming, her body jerking in strange gyrations. When she saw us, she screamed at us. She wanted nothing to do with us. This was not the same Sister we had just been speaking with.
President Harris and I decided to try to get her into the mission van. She resisted. Finally, we were able to force her into the van, but she crawled down into the space between the back seats with her back toward us. We determined that we would attempt to give her a blessing. For what followed, I read from a letter Sister Fielding wrote to me on March 21, 1998.
I would like to write a letter of thanks for the blessing you gave me on Friday, March 20. It's hard to describe the feeling that was inside me, but it was almost identical to the feeling of Joseph Smith when he went to the grove to pray.
Then she quoted from Joseph Smith's account in Joseph Smith-History 1:15, one with which you are all familiar:
"I was seized upon by some power which entirely overcame me, and had such an astonishing influence over me as to bind my tongue so that I could not speak. Thick darkness gathered around me, and it seemed to me for a time as if I were doomed to sudden destruction."[7]
She, then, writes:
I don't remember much of your blessing, but I remember you saying, "In the name of Jesus Christ." The minute I heard that name, everything went calm. I felt at peace- I felt the light come back . . . I love my Savior, Jesus Christ. I'm grateful for his atonement . . .This gospel is so true. I love it! Love Always, Sister Kristi K. Fielding

“It’s Saturday! Everybody up!” Dad calls from the hall.
I open my eyes. Mommy kisses me and opens my curtains to welcome the morning sun.
“How would you like to go for a drive today?” Daddy asks with a smile.
“Yes, yes,” I say as I quickly jump out of bed. After Mommy helps me get dressed, we go downstairs for breakfast. Pancakes with sweet maple syrup! “Yum!” I say.
After breakfast we get in the car for a drive to Hood River. It is autumn, and the leaves on the trees are many different colors. I draw leaves that are yellow, red, and orange on the big pad of paper with the crayons that Mommy brought.
Finally we stop at Mr. Draper’s farm. Mr. Draper is a big man with a tall hat. We walk over to see his turkeys and chickens. “Would you like to feed them?” he asks, handing me a cob of corn.
“Yes, thank you,” I reply. Mr. Draper shows me how to hold the corn so the turkeys will peck at it and not my finger.
“How about a hay ride?” Mr. Draper calls as he drives his tractor from the barn. Behind the tractor is a flatbed trailer with bales of hay to sit on. Many of the other visitors want to come on the hayride, too. We wait until everyone is seated; then we start to move. The ride is bumpy and makes me laugh!
Mr. Draper tells us how the farm has belonged to his family for many generations. He shows us different kinds of apples and pears as we ride under the trees. Daddy points to some horses nearby.
Mr. Draper stops his tractor, puts a bale of hay on the ground, and helps us all step down. He shows us a big patch of strawberries and raspberries near the horses, and tells us we may pick some. Daddy picks me up so I can reach some raspberries, then Mommy takes me over to pet the horses.
Mommy takes a picture of Daddy and me on the trailer before it is time to go. “Smile,” Mommy says. I smile as big as I can. Then everyone climbs back on the trailer for the trip back.
The tractor starts to move again. Mr. Draper drives us by his bee boxes, where the bees make honey for him. Then we drive under his plum trees. He tells us we can reach up and pick one. Daddy helps me grab a plum. “Mmm—it is so juicy!” I say.
As we come to the pond, many ducks fly into the air. They quack very loudly. Almost as loud as the tractor engine. We drive by the house where Mr. Draper lives and see his big sunflowers and vegetable garden. As we come back to the front of the farm, the tractor slows down and then stops.
Mr. Draper helps us all down. Mommy buys some of his shiny apples and pears, and Daddy gives me an apple to eat on the way home. I take a big bite, and the sweet juice runs down my chin.
“Good-bye Farmer Draper, I hope I see you again!” I call as I get into the car. Mr. Draper waves back.
Autumn is my favorite time of year!

When I was a mission president in northern Germany, I had a very difficult problem. I had searched in vain for an answer for many weeks. One morning I was reading in the Book of Mormon where Nephi was commanded to build a ship: “And I, Nephi, did go into the mount oft, and I did pray oft unto the Lord; wherefore the Lord showed unto me great things” (1 Nephi 18:3). As I read that small passage, the impression came to me, “That is what I need to do.” I pondered and prayed, and finally the answer came, and I knew what I needed to do. I am grateful for that little window of inspiration that came—as I was searching the scriptures. As I received my answer, I felt that I was “standing in a holy place.” I know that you too can have similar experiences as you search, ponder, and pray about the scriptures.

Years ago, when I was only six, I became acquainted with my cousin, a six-year-old girl named Roxane. Some time before I saw Roxane, I was informed that I was getting a new sister. It was she. We were adopting my own cousin for reasons unknown to me at that time.
The first month of our sisterly relationship was quite peaceful. I suppose all new things take a little getting used to. I shared a room with my little sister Deanna and my new sister Roxane. Things were different for Deanna and me, as we had to get used to sharing a bedroom with another person. This created hassles over such issues as who got which bed and who got the most closet space.
In a short time I developed a rage of jealousy towards my new sister. She had fit nicely between Deanna and me; and as the saying goes, “two was company, three’s a crowd.” Constant arguments arose, and sides were being taken. Hardly a day went by that the three of us didn’t get into some kind of argument. And I can recall that most of my arguments were with my new sister.
Not only did I forever argue with her, but I condemned her for coming to live with my family, especially when she started to call our mother, “mom” instead of “auntie.”
Many times I would go out of my way to make sure she did not use anything of mine. If she did, it meant immediate war. Any time she would do something I thought challenging, I would instantly prove that I could do what she was doing and do it even better. For years I diminished her self-image with rude remarks and strained to outdo her at everything.
About four years ago I started to wonder why I had such feelings towards Roxane. My only conclusion was that I was jealous of the attention she had taken from me when she came to live with us. At that time I also realized the damage I had done to Roxane’s self-confidence and pride. I felt so ashamed and am still ashamed of the actions of my younger years. Never once did I put myself in her shoes and try to experience what I was making her go through. What pain she must have suffered. What a feeling of not belonging I must have given her. It would have been difficult enough for her to come live in a house of strangers without having me on her back. Now the problem was how to let her know that I loved her and was so sorry.
Roxane, Deanna, and I were all at girls’ camp that year. It was the night for testimony meeting, a beautiful night, and the Spirit of the Lord was so strong that almost every girl was in tears. Wanting to bear my testimony but being the type of person to break down crying at the first word, I bravely stood and started to speak. I bore my testimony of the truthfulness of the gospel, of the love I have for the Lord, and of the growth I had received during the week at camp. At this point I had shed many tears and was ready to sit and try to settle down a bit. But suddenly I felt an urge to express my love for my sisters. It felt awkward saying “I love you,” since I had never said those words to them before. But it felt so good. It was as if I had unloaded a barrel of bricks that I had been carrying around for so long. I felt free from a burden that had been there for many years. Satisfied, I sat down. Moments after I sat down I felt two arms around my neck and heard a familiar voice say, “I love you.” Seconds later I felt two more arms around my neck and heard another familiar voice say, “I love you.” It was beautiful. I was full of love for both of them and was so thankful I was inspired to express my love for them that special night.
Now, 11 years after I first set eyes on my cousin, I am eternally grateful to my Heavenly Father for giving me another sister. Roxane has helped me to grow and understand so many things. We are now both 17 years old and are the best of friends. Today we went to a softball game and cheered for all the guys. Yesterday we went to the movies and spilled popcorn all over the people in front of us. Tonight we will go to the dance. And where there was once a crowd, there is now a circle of love.

A few years ago I went on a week-long trip to Guatemala to work at a hospital. Shortly after our arrival, we went on a tour of the hospital. We passed by a courtyard, where I saw a little citrus tree. I noticed that someone had attached several large rocks to the limbs of the tree with wires.
“What a strange way to decorate a tree!” I thought.
I was about to walk away when one of our team leaders came up to me. She explained that the rocks had been placed on the limbs of the tree to strengthen it. Each rock had been selected to place just enough weight on the limb to bend it but not break it. By growing stronger under the weight of their rocks, the limbs were preparing to support the weight of the fruit that the little citrus tree would bear throughout its life.
In a way, we are all like the little citrus tree. Our Heavenly Father is the Master Gardener. Each of us has a set of rocks that come in the form of trials and challenges. Although these rocks can be heavy, we can trust that we will never have a trial or a challenge that we are unable to bear with His help. The weight will bend us but never break us—if we stay faithful. And the added strength we gain through our trials and challenges prepares us to support the weight of the fruit we will bear throughout our lives as chosen sons and daughters of God.

Many teenagers have trouble getting along with their parents at some stage during their teen years. As a 16-year-old, I started to think that my mom and I would never have a conversation that didn’t end with tears and slammed doors.
During one particular argument, I shouted some angry words, stormed into my bedroom, and slammed the door as hard as I could. I threw myself onto my bed with hot, angry tears streaming down my cheeks. Thoughts ran through my head: “How can I fix this? What can I do to stop this constant arguing?”
Then as clear as if the Mormon Tabernacle Choir were in my room, I heard these words: “He lives to comfort me when faint. He lives to hear my soul’s complaint. … He lives to calm my troubled heart. He lives all blessings to impart” (“I Know That My Redeemer Lives,” Hymns, no. 136). I felt the Holy Ghost’s presence and the love of my Heavenly Father encircling me, and I knew that everything would work out.
That day was a turning point for me. Heavenly Father knew what I needed. Music is a huge part of my life, and I was blessed by listening to and learning the words of the hymns. They gave me comfort and strength when I really needed it, and they can help us through hard times.
Today my mom and I are the best of friends. We are both serving in the Primary in our ward, and I love that we can work together in our callings as well as at home.

Many years ago John Orth worked in a foundry in Australia, and in a terrible accident, hot molten lead splashed onto his face and body. He was administered to, and some of the vision was restored to his right eye, but he was completely blind in his left. Because he couldn’t see well, he lost his job. He tried to get employment with his wife’s family, but their business failed due to the depression. He was forced to go door-to-door seeking odd jobs and handouts to pay for food and rent.

One year he did not pay any tithing and went to talk to the branch president. The branch president understood the situation but asked John to make it a matter of prayer and fasting so that he could find a way to pay his tithing. John and his wife, Alice, fasted and prayed and determined that the only thing of value they owned was her engagement ring—a beautiful ring bought in happier times. After much anguish they decided to take the ring to a pawnbroker and learned it was worth enough to pay their tithing and some other outstanding bills. That Sunday he went in to the branch president and paid his tithing. As he left the office, he happened to meet the mission president, who noticed his damaged eyes.

Brother Orth’s son, now serving as a bishop in Adelaide, later wrote: “We believe that [the mission president] was an eye doctor, for he was commonly called President Dr. Rees. He spoke to Dad and was able to examine him and offer suggestions to help his eyesight. Dad followed his advice, … and in due course sight was restored—15 percent sight to his left eye and 95 percent sight to his right eye—and with the help of glasses he could see again.” With his vision restored, John was never unemployed again; redeemed the ring, which is now a family heirloom; and paid a full tithing for the rest of his life. The Lord knew John Orth, and He knew who could help him.

“President Dr. Rees” was my mother’s father, and he probably never knew of the miracle that was wrought that day. Generations were blessed because a family decided they would pay their tithing regardless of the difficulty—and then met a man who “happened by” and “happened” to be an eye surgeon who was able to make a great difference in their life. While some may be tempted to believe these are just coincidences, I have confidence that even a sparrow cannot fall to the ground but He knows it.

Our family didn’t know this story until two years ago, but we know this about our grandfather: he loved the Lord and tried to serve Him all his life. And we know this about the Lord: He knows who we are and where we are, and He knows who needs our help.