Gospel Story Finder

“During the spring of 1972 I found myself in the dilemma of deciding to get married or to serve a two-year mission, After much consideration, prayer, visits to the bishop, and discussions with the girl I had chosen, I decided to serve my God. We concluded that if our union was meant to be, she would be there after my mission.
“Mission life seems to quicken the process of maturity. The young man grows into manhood, acquiring such qualities as self-discipline and the ability to work hard and enjoy his work. He learns how to budget finances effectively, how to really communicate with others, being mindful of their feelings, and how to reposition himself in others’ shoes and learn to love them despite their faults. He learns how to build confidence, character, and control, and most important in the case of marriage, he learns how to get along with a companion 24 hours a day. Aren’t these qualities that any good LDS girl would want in a husband? My mission has opened my eyes to many things I never before realized in regard to preparing for marriage.
Elder Jerry HattonCalifornia Sacramento Mission

Skull Valley, Utah—that was where I spent two summers as a youth. I lived on Long Island, New York, but my father, who had grown up on a farm in Idaho, told me, “You’re never going to learn how to work until you work on a ranch.” My uncle had a ranch in Skull Valley, and so I, a city boy, was sent to live and work there.
The first few days I spent on the ranch left me exhausted. My entire body ached, and I wondered how I could get through each day. I was discouraged and wanted to go home, but I didn’t tell this to my relatives.
One day I was moving bales of hay with my cousin, and I was having a hard time because I was so tired. My cousin gave me a little push and said, “You aren’t lazy—you just don’t know how to work.” I decided then that I’d learn how to work—and I did. And as I worked on the ranch that summer, I came to enjoy it and my body thrived on it.

I would like to begin by telling you a story that predates my arrival at BYU.
During my last two summers of high school, my parents sent me from my home in California to work for my uncle in Idaho. He operated Budge’s Golden Sunshine Honey—a family business started by my grandfather in 1924. My father grew up “working in the bees,” as they called it. He wanted me to learn how to work as he did. The job was hard, and there were very few fringe benefits, but, on occasion, my uncle would let me take his 90cc Suzuki motorcycle for a ride.
One beautiful summer day I decided to go by myself on a ride up a canyon just south of the little farming community where I worked. The combination of the blue skies, the bright sun, and the wind in my face was exhilarating. It momentarily made all the hard work and long hours seem worth it. However, several miles up the canyon, the motorcycle suddenly sputtered to a stop. I had run out of gas in the middle of nowhere! This was before the invention of the cell phone, so I had no way to call for help.
I considered my options. Thinking that my uncle would be upset if I were to abandon the motorcycle, I decided to push the heavy bike back home. It was well after dark by the time I reached town. I was thirsty, hungry, and exhausted. As I passed Main Street, I saw my uncle’s truck parked at the movie theater. I went into the theater to tell him what had happened.
I was surprised by his response when he said, “How could you possibly run out of gas?”
He came out to the street, sat on the bike, and flipped a switch. To my surprise, the motorcycle started.
In shock, I asked, “How did you do that?”
Shaking his head in dismay, he said, “Motor­cycles have a reserve tank in case you run out of gas. All you have to do is flip the switch.”
Embarrassed and humiliated, I rode the motorcycle back home.
How many of us struggle through life carrying heavy burdens in the heat of the day, relying on our own strength? I testify that there is another source of power available to everyone—the infinite power made possible by the atoning sacrifice of Jesus Christ. Now there are some, like I was with the reserve tank, who do not access this power because they are not aware of it.

But today there were no mysteries to solve. Danny sat down next to Dad at the computer desk and played with his magnifying glass.
“Is Detective Danny solving another mystery?” Dad asked, looking up from the computer.
“No,” Danny said. “Nobody lost anything. Nobody is missing. And I can’t find anything suspicious.” (The detectives in Danny’s books said words like suspicious a lot.)
“I have a mystery for you,” Dad said as he clicked the computer mouse.
Danny perked up. Another mystery? He looked at the computer screen, but all he saw were a bunch of names and dates.
“Aw, Dad!” Danny said. “That’s not detective work. That’s just family history.”
“Just family history?” Dad pretended to be shocked. “This is some of the most important detective work you can do! You have to hunt for clues, find missing people, and solve the mystery of where you came from!”
Danny crinkled his nose. He would rather be following footprints with his magnifying glass.
“I’ll tell you what,” Dad said. “I need to make a few calls. Why don’t you look at the family tree while I’m gone? You might be surprised by what you find.”
Danny sighed and sat down at the computer. He found his name. His parents’ names. And his grandparents’ names. Then he clicked an arrow and even more names appeared! The names kept going on and on. Some of his ancestors were from California like him. But some were from countries far away.
Whoa! They lived hundreds of years ago, he thought. I wonder what they were like.
Then Danny saw some blank spots on his family tree. Maybe there was some detective work to be done.
From that day on, Detective Danny was on the case—the Family History Mystery!
He looked for clues in family journals.
He called his grandma and asked her lots of questions.
He searched online and found old records and pictures of his ancestors.
Danny loved helping fill in the blanks on his family tree. Soon he had helped Dad find 12 people who needed temple ordinances.
Dad was really excited when Danny found a record for Herbert Henry Jonte, Danny’s great-great grandfather.
“Your great-grandpa used to talk about his father all the time,” Dad said. “And now I can do his temple work for him. Thanks, Detective Danny! Case closed?”
Danny shook his head and smiled. He wasn’t just solving a mystery. He was helping his family members get closer to Heavenly Father. And he wanted to keep helping.
“Case not closed,” he said. “We have a lot more work to do!”

Teachers in the Church so instruct the old and the young. Sometimes the results are humorous. One leader shared this story with me:
As a little boy came home from Primary one day, his mother asked him what he had learned, and he said, “My teacher told me that I used to be dust and I would be dust again once more. Is that true, Mommy?”
“Yes,” the mother replied. “A scripture tells us so: ‘For dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return’ (Gen. 3:19).”
The little boy was amazed at this! The next morning, he was scurrying around getting ready for school, looking for his shoes. He crawled under the bed. Lo and behold, there he saw balls of dust. He ran to his mother in wonder, saying, “Oh, Mommy, somebody’s under my bed, and they’re either coming or going.”

Several biblical sites are within walking distance from Hebrew University in Jerusalem where I’m currently living as a student. I can visit the temple steps where Jesus may have taught or the Garden Tomb where some feel that His body was laid before His Resurrection. Living in the Holy Land is a blessing, and I’m grateful for every day I get to spend in this amazing place. But being here as a member of His Church isn’t easy.
Because of the non-proselyting policy in Israel, I’m not allowed to share my faith. I didn’t realize how hard this would be until one of my friends asked me for a copy of the Book of Mormon and I couldn’t give him one. It can feel a bit lonely and isolating to be a disciple of Christ at times.
But I’m also learning some strong lessons here; I can still share the light and love of Jesus Christ with anybody, and I can connect with the Spirit.
Although my education program is very secular, almost all the other students in my classes are believing Christians. We often sit after class and share opinions and insights on the lessons. These conversations have allowed me space where I can bear testimony of Jesus Christ.
As we speak with one another, I’m often reminded of Matthew 18:20: “For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them.”
Although I can’t actively share the gospel in these conversations, this experience has taught me how talking with fellow disciples about Christ can invite the Spirit into our relationships and keep Him at the center of all we do.
I’ve realized that the only way I can really share the gospel of Jesus Christ here is through who I am. I can’t give people a Book of Mormon here, but I can pray with them, I can help them feel God’s love, and I can bear testimony that God does love them. As I simply strive to keep my covenants and follow the Lord’s commandments, I am testifying of my faith in the gospel of Jesus Christ.

Some people never realize just how important friendshipping can be, but Ray Ebler of Londonderry, Northern Ireland, does. “The main contribution to my testimony was the love that radiated from each member,” he says.

Ray started attending with his girlfriend and her family. He enjoyed church, but he says, “It was only when she went away to school that I realized how important the Church and the people in it were to me. I was touched by the Spirit and gained a testimony.”

Ray started attending with his girlfriend and her family. He enjoyed church, but he says, “It was only when she went away to school that I realized how important the Church and the people in it were to me.”

Ray was taught the discussions and was baptized on July 4, 1991. He wants to express his gratitude to the family that helped him, the ward members, and everyone else involved.

Photograph by Christina Smith
When 17-year-old Parker J. was preparing for his senior wrestling championship, he trained for any maneuver his opponents could throw at him. But although he’s been building his strength with wrestling, football, shot put, and even accordion for years, Parker’s most important preparation had nothing to do with physical muscle. It took spiritual strength to make this tournament a win in God’s eyes.
“Feeling God’s love always fueled me,” Parker says. But for some reason, he wasn’t feeling very close to God in the weeks leading up to the tournament. In the past, he says, “gratitude toward God really helped me strengthen my testimony, so I didn’t know if it was me just not being as grateful or if God was actually withdrawing His hand a little bit.”
The plan for tournament week was simple: Parker’s team would take a bus on Thursday to compete in the tournament on Friday and Saturday. Unfortunately, a nasty snowstorm complicated things. The tournament got pushed back a day, meaning wrestlers who won their Saturday matches would have to compete on Sunday. And Parker’s skill and strength gave him a high chance of making it that far.
Sitting on the bus with his teammates, Parker knew he had a choice to make: wrestle in the Sunday finals or honor the Sabbath. And since he would graduate after this year, it was his last chance to wrestle with his team.
“It was a really tough moment for me to make that decision. I just hadn’t been feeling God’s hand those weeks before the tournament,” he says.
But remembering past experiences with God gave Parker the strength he needed to decide. “Though I hadn’t felt His hand recently, I knew that I had felt His hand before. I promise every week when I take the sacrament to always remember Him, not just when I feel like it. So I decided not to wrestle on Sunday.”
I promise every week when I take the sacrament to always remember Him, not just when I feel like it.
Parker showed up Saturday morning knowing he wouldn’t wrestle in the finals on Sunday, even if he won every Saturday match. But surprisingly, he didn’t feel disappointed anymore. “I was at peace with my decision,” he says. “It was interesting, because the whole season I had just felt so much pressure to win. But at that meet, I was just happy to be there with the people I love. I just wanted to do my best.”
And he did. Parker’s practice paid off, and he won every match that Saturday. But as he forfeited the Sunday match, Parker felt like he won something far more valuable. “That first-place medal would have gotten dusty on my shelf,” he says. “But the clarity and peace I got from choosing God and being able to recognize His hand was just so worth it.”
Parker’s true victory wasn’t in any medal or trophy. It was in choosing God and being able to recognize His hand.
Parker says, “This experience made me realize what I was capable of. A lot of youth don’t believe in their ability to make difficult choices. I’ve been there. But you always have the choice to do the right thing, even if you’ve messed up in the past. God knows you and believes in you. He knows you have the ability to do it.”
You always have the choice to do the right thing, even if you’ve messed up in the past.
Soon after Parker’s spiritual victory, he received his mission call to Romania. He knows that choosing to keep God’s commandments will have a positive influence on his mission and the rest of his life. He says, “Now I know that setting aside one day of the week for God blesses you triple, quadruple more. It’s not ‘Well, I forfeited this final tournament, so I’m going to heaven.’ It’s that my ability to serve, sacrifice, and be closer to God has increased.”
Parker is excited to serve the Lord as a full-time missionary in Romania.
The next time Parker has to wrestle with an important decision, he’s more prepared than ever. “Not a lot of people will have the chance to forfeit the final match of a state wrestling championship,” Parker admits. “The applicable part is sacrifice. Being able to just let something go for God and dedicate it to Him gave me a sense of power that I’ve never had before. God knows you better than you know yourself.” He says, “God will allow you to experience situations that are difficult but never impossible to overcome with His help.”
God knows you better than you know yourself.
Find bonus content about Parker’s story on the Gospel Living app this month.

A New Dawn(Deseret Book $7.95)Jack Weyland

In his delightful way, Jack Weyland brings another unforgettable character to life in his new novel. Dawn a prize-winning, eccentric graduate student and physicist, finds answers to problems that even Einstein couldn’t solve. But the harassment of news-hungry reporters sends her fleeing for cover. She hides behind a new identity at Brigham Young University, where she falls in love, finds a new faith and learns to cook spaghetti.

Shiloh W., 18, Chihuahua, Mexico
My mother died when I was only 12 years old. At that time I was not a member of the Church. When she was sick, I prayed a lot that my mother would be well. I had much faith, and I trusted in God in the hope that her health would return. Sadly she did not recover. I questioned why she had to die at such a young age and leave me while I was still a teenager. I was angry and came to the point where I doubted that God existed. Now that I am a member of the Church, I understand the plan of salvation. I know that she is waiting for me and that our family will be reunited.

Not long ago several of us in the Nash family hiked to the top of Huayna Picchu, a tall peak adjoining the ancient Incan ruins of Machu Picchu in the mountains of Peru. It is a very steep climb with breathtaking views and precipitous drop-offs. Sadly, some hikers have lost their lives by falling off that narrow, steep trail. To avoid such tragedies, strong cables have since been secured to the solid rock along the mountainside of Huayna Picchu. We held to those cables as we climbed, and they enabled us to safely reach the summit, where the view was majestic!

I started to get the New Era as a gift from a dear friend, and I think it is great. My friend Becky started to visit me while I was in prison. She asked me if I would like to talk to the elders, and I agreed. I saw them for six months, and it really helped. I’m going to keep on subscribing to the New Era now because it is still helping me. Thanks to Elder Castleberry and Elder Muller, and a real big thanks to Becky Hartswick for two wonderful gifts, the Church and the New Era.
Jeffrey D. AumanLewistown, Pennsylvania

Not everybody glimpses the glory. Sometimes a lot of people just miss the point. Toward the end of the last century, a Reverend Wright was a leader in the community of Elkhart, Indiana. A man by the name of Professor Kelly visited him. Professor Kelly was a local teacher who was trying to raise money for research in technical matters, and he wanted Reverend Wright’s support. He said that if people concentrated their industrial and technical efforts, they could do unbelievable things to raise their standard of living. He outlined some of the things that he thought might be accomplished. He said that man could increase his life span. He could construct homes that provided unheard of comforts and conveniences. He might even fly like a bird someday.

Reverend Wright said, “That’s an impious thought! I’m not going to support this. Go home and pray for forgiveness. To suggest that man could fly like a bird is to defy the will of God!”

Reverend Wright had two sons—Wilbur and Orville.

Sometimes people don’t glimpse the glory. And sometimes they glimpse a counterfeit glory. They waste their lives searching for the seven cities of gold or the fountain of youth. They’re following an image. They search for fool’s gold rather than the real thing. They have missed the point.

Let’s hope that we can glimpse the true glory and catch the real spirit.

Your generation, and I hope my generation too, could live to see the second coming of the Savior. You may see times of trial that make crossing the plains or an ocean voyage across the North Atlantic look very mild. You will need to have glimpsed the glory to sustain you through such times. If you do that—if you have glimpsed the glory of the gospel, of the Second Coming, of the millennial reign, of the celestial kingdom—it can sustain you as you cross your plains and the dust rolls up in your face. You may have to bury your children on the plains or freeze your feet at Valley Forge or meet whatever your challenge is to be. You will have trials as every generation has had trials. You may have more trials than most generations. You need to glimpse the glory to sustain you through those times.

When I was attending Brigham Young University, I learned what it truly means to be a queen. I was given a unique opportunity, along with a small group of other students, to meet the prophet, President David O. McKay. I was told to wear my best dress and to be ready to travel early the next morning to Huntsville, Utah, to the home of the prophet. I will never forget the experience I had. As soon as we entered the home, I felt the spirit which filled that home. We were seated in the prophet’s living room, surrounding him. President McKay had on a white suit, and seated next to him was his wife. He asked for each of us to come forward and tell him about ourselves. As I went forward, he held out his hand and held mine, and as I told him about my life and my family, he looked deeply into my eyes.

After we had finished, he leaned back in his chair and reached for his wife’s hand and said, “Now, young women, I would like you to meet my queen.” There seated next to him was his wife, Emma Ray McKay. Although she did not wear a crown of sparkling diamonds, nor was she seated on a throne, I knew she was a true queen. Her white hair was her crown, and her pure eyes sparkled like jewels. As President and Sister McKay spoke of their family and their life together, their intertwined hands spoke volumes about their love. Joy radiated from their faces. Hers was a beauty that cannot be purchased. It came from years of seeking the best gifts, becoming well educated, seeking knowledge by study and also by faith. It came from years of hard work, of faithfully enduring trials with optimism, trust, strength, and courage. It came from her unwavering devotion and fidelity to her husband, her family, and the Lord.

On that fall day in Huntsville, Utah, I was reminded of my divine identity, and I learned about what I now call “deep beauty”—the kind of beauty that shines from the inside out. It is the kind of beauty that cannot be painted on, surgically created, or purchased. It is the kind of beauty that doesn’t wash off. It is spiritual attractiveness. Deep beauty springs from virtue. It is the beauty of being chaste and morally clean. It is the kind of beauty that you see in the eyes of virtuous women like your mother and grandmother. It is a beauty that is earned through faith, repentance, and honoring covenants.

I watched the cows grazing contentedly on the hay we had just given them as Jason talked on. Those cows were our livelihood. A big drought could easily put us under, especially with the debts Dad had to pay off. I remembered the year I turned ten. We had had no substantial rainfall for two or three years, and all of our dams dried up. Because there was so little water, our livestock were suffering dehydration, and feed was too scarce to satisfy their hunger. A bull, which would previously have fetched hundreds, was worth only a few dollars. Dad had said that if things didn’t get better soon, we’d have to move off the land. By my tenth birthday, things hadn’t improved. I remembered that day well. I had gone with my father to the paddock at the far end of the farm. He walked along in grim silence, clutching a loaded rifle in his hand. I had not been invited, and I didn’t know where we were going or what we were doing. In my naivety, I thought we might be going to shoot rabbits. Imagine my shock when I realized that, instead of rabbits, we were going to shoot cattle. And when they were all dead, we would start on the sheep. As the first animal fell in a withered heap, I let out a strangled cry of protest. Dad turned to look at me, his dark eyes brimming with concern.
“You go on back to the house, son,” he said. But I didn’t move. I stood in petrified silence as my father put those poor starving creatures out of their misery. I’m sure Dad was close to tears that day. I know I was.

Another sister wrote:
“It’s all over now! What? The area conference! I wish they could stay longer here,” she said. “Believe it or not it has been raining cats and dogs, but the sun shone brightly just before the prophet’s plane landed at the airport. There was a typhoon forecast, but it didn’t come until after the Brethren had left the country. I walked with Sister Kimball. I told her I could hardly believe I was walking with her. Know what she said? Well, she told me she is no different than I am. That she washed clothes, washed the dishes, and cooks food, plants vegetables, and does all the same things that I do.”

Nancy was excited just thinking about a horse. My very own horse for Christmas! She could almost feel its velvety-soft flanks and see its thick mane and tail streaming in the wind. And the rhythmic pounding of hoofbeats along the dusty trails near her home were just as real in her ears. “Oh, this is going to be the most wonderful Christmas in the whole world!” she murmured.
Quietly, Nancy opened the door to her father’s study and tiptoed over to his desk. She clutched the huge pickle jar, stuffed full of dollar bills and jingling with quarters, nickels, and dimes. It was a whole year’s allowance and money from babysitting and doing special chores—half the cost of a horse, as Mom and Dad had agreed. Now when they contributed their half, she could buy her horse.
“Dad?” she queried. She knew he heard her come in. But he just sat with his elbows on the desk and his forehead resting on his hands. Nancy put the pickle jar down in front of him. “Dad?” she called again.
Her father turned the jar slowly with his hand and looked up. Nancy was alarmed to see his eyes glistening with tears.
She wrapped her arms comfortingly around his neck. “What’s wrong, Dad? What’s happened?” she asked anxiously.
“Nancy,” Dad began, but his voice choked. “Sweetheart,” he started once more, “I know we made a promise to you about your horse, but …”
But what? she worried. They wouldn’t break their promise. I’ve worked so hard.
“Darling,” Dad continued, “we never dreamed they’d close the plant where I work. I have found another job, but it’s on the coast, and we have to move. I’m so sorry, Nancy.”
“That’s all right, Dad.” Nancy planted a big kiss on her father’s cheek. “I can wait for my horse until we move. There’s still time before Christmas.”
“Nancy, there isn’t room in the city for a horse.”
Nancy was beginning to feel desperate. She just had to have a horse. It was about the most important thing in her life. She had saved so long for one. “We could board it at a stable,” she persisted.
“No, dear, that’s not possible. There probably aren’t any stables near where we’ll be living. Even if there were, it would be too expensive. As it is, moving is going to cost so much I’m afraid we won’t be having much Christmas this year. I’m sorry.”
Hot tears squeezed from Nancy’s eyes. She grabbed the pickle jar and ran from the room.
Her sister Emmie was waiting outside the door, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “When do you get your horse?” she asked.
“Oh, be quiet,” snapped Nancy as she dashed past Emmie.
This is turning into the worst Christmas of my life! she fumed. It just isn’t fair!
In the days that followed, Nancy felt so upset that she could hardly talk to her parents. “They just don’t understand how much this means to me,” she complained to Emmie.
However, as the family started moving into their new house in the city, Nancy began to feel guilty. She realized that it really wasn’t her parents’ fault that they had to leave their old home.
“But a promise is a promise!” she wailed to Emmie.
Emmie didn’t pay much attention to Nancy’s feeling sorry for herself. She and Bobby and Ted were too busy thinking about Christmas, which was almost here. The boys made long lists of toys they hoped to get. One day when her parents didn’t know anyone was looking, Nancy saw tears glistening in the corners of their red-rimmed eyes.
“We won’t be having much Christmas this year,” she remembered Father had said.
Nancy suddenly felt very ashamed. There was still Christmas baking and carol singing. And they spent days making gifts for each other. Their traditional nativity scene was already in its place on the mantel. And every night when Mom and Dad tucked them into bed, they were reminded of the special feeling of love for Jesus and their family, and not just the anticipation of presents under the tree.
Nancy and Emmie were old enough to understand, but Bobby and Ted kept expecting a Christmas with lots of presents.
It wasn’t until the afternoon before Christmas that Nancy thought of an exciting plan. As she shared it with Emmie, the excitement bubbled out into loud giggles.
Nancy emptied the pickle jar into her purse, and she and Emmie took the bus to the shopping center. All afternoon they trudged in and out of stores buying Christmas gifts.
“We needed a horse to haul all this stuff home,” groaned Emmie later as they wrapped the last of the packages and hid them in the back of their closet.
“Mom and Dad are sure going to be surprised when they discover I got my horse after all,” Nancy said with a grin. Then the girls collapsed, exhausted, on the bed.
Christmas morning, Mom and Dad woke everyone with an extra hug and kiss.
“Nancy,” Father said as he put his arm around her shoulder, “Merry Christmas, honey. And thanks for being pleasant and understanding.”
Down the stairs Nancy and Emmie followed their brothers. They looked at each other and covered their mouths to keep from laughing.
“Oh, wow!” said Ted as he saw the pile of presents beneath the tree.
“Whoopee!” shrieked Bobby as he ripped the ribbons and paper off a big red fire engine.
“Oh, my gracious!” cried Mom and Dad together, their eyes bright with surprise.
Nancy and Emmie grinned and plopped down beside the tree to hand out presents.
“I don’t understand,” said Dad.
There were shiny new trucks for the boys, a doll with lots of clothes and a buggy for Emmie, puzzles and games for the whole family, perfume and slippers for Mom, and spicy shaving lotion and a bathrobe for Dad.
Nancy could feel her heart warming with happiness. Christmas has never made me feel this good before, she thought. She stroked the cool, smooth flanks of a little china horse bank that Emmie had given her. Inside clinked two quarters and a nickel, all that was left of the pickle jar money.
“See,” cried Nancy, holding up the bank, “I got my horse after all!”
“I just can’t believe it,” said Dad, shaking his head.
“I think I can,” said Mom, her eyes misty with tears. She pulled Nancy into her arms and held her so tightly that Nancy’s ribs felt as though they would snap. Her heart felt so full that it was about to burst, and she couldn’t speak if she had wanted to.

Long years ago, when I served as a bishop, I learned that Mary Watson, a member of my ward, was a patient in the county hospital. When I went to visit her, I discovered her in a large room with so many beds that it was difficult to single her out. As I identified her bed and approached her, I said, “Hello, Mary.”
She replied, “Hello, Bishop.”
I noticed that a patient in the bed next to Mary Watson covered her face with the bedsheet.
I gave Mary a blessing, shook her hand, and said good-bye, but I could not leave her side. It was as though an unseen hand were resting on my shoulder, and I felt within my soul that I was hearing these words: “Go over to the next bed, where the little lady covered her face when you came in.” I did so. I have learned in my life never to postpone responding to a prompting.
I gently tapped the other patient on her shoulder and carefully pulled back the sheet that had covered her face. Lo and behold, she, too, was a member of my ward. I had not known she was a patient there. Her name was Kathleen McKee. When her eyes met mine, she exclaimed through her tears, “Oh, Bishop, when you entered that door, I felt you had come to see me and bless me in response to my prayers. I was rejoicing inside to think that you knew I was here. When you stopped at the other bed, my heart sank, and I knew that you had not come to see me.”
I said to Kathleen McKee: “It does not matter that I didn’t know that you were here. It is important, however, that our Heavenly Father knew and that you had prayed for a priesthood blessing. It was He who prompted me to come to you now.”
A blessing was given, a prayer was answered. I bestowed a kiss on her forehead and left the hospital with gratitude in my heart for the promptings of the Spirit. It was the last time I saw Kathleen McKee alive.

Zachary is a very kind little boy, and he is sensitive to the feelings of others. When Zac was attending preschool, a new little boy moved into town from another country and was in his class. Samuel*, the new boy, couldn’t speak English, a new language for him, and he was a little uncomfortable in his new class.
One day at school, Samuel was really sad and wanted his mom. The preschool teacher asked Zac if he would play with Samuel. Zac took Samuel by the hand, led him over to where the toys were, and they began to play together. Zac really tried to treat his classmate the way the Savior would want him to by becoming his friend.

Achieving the Eagle award before the age of 13 is only one of the goals David Nielsen of the Orem 63rd Ward, Orem Utah South Stake, has set and fulfilled. In addition, he has earned all of the Boy Scout skill awards, 53 merit badges, his Trail to the Duty to God award, the Boy Scout Conservation award, the Presidential Physical Fitness award, and two citations in the American Red Cross Basic Life Support Course in cardio-pulmonary resuscitation. He earned the Boy Scout Lifeguard award (which included swimming a half mile) while his arm was in a cast. He also made two 25-mile bike rides toward his cycling merit badge during the same time.