Gospel Story Finder

It all started with a dream to help critically ill children in London’s Royal Marsden Hospital. With the intent of giving service in a way that could make a real difference, 50 young LDS teens from the Staines England Stake set out on an incredible service project that resulted in what some called a miracle.
They planned and produced an evening of entertainment, the “MGM Spectacular.” The initials stand for Marsden’s Glorious Musical. The miraculous part of the project was the fact that in addition to raising money for the hospital, the LDS teens helped the young patients participate and perform in the production. For many of these children, this theatrical experience was a once-in-a-lifetime event. Sarah Burlinson of the Tunbridge Wells Ward, Kent England Stake, said, “The children really looked happy, and I know that they enjoyed it as well.”
The show was intended as a family event. Besides the LDS youth, the critically ill outpatients and their brothers and sisters performed in song and dance. The LDS teens wanted to offer these children a chance to forget their difficulties for a day and feel the joy of being involved in service. The money raised was used to buy needed equipment for their own hospital. And they threw themselves into the project with energy. Catherine Wittle of the Guilford Ward said, “The sick kids were a great example to us. They were so determined to do well.”
The combination of dedicated LDS youth with enthusiastic children made for a remarkable evening. The project was linked with a charity called Kids Count. The group also received help from London’s Capital Radio.
But the performance was preceded by 18 months of hard work. To earn the money necessary to hire the hall, create the costumes, and print the tickets and programmes, the stake youth held car washes, sponsored hikes and bake sales, and held a summer festival. At times it was discouraging, especially after well-made plans fell through, but then the phrase, “The show must go on,” was heard around the stake.
Everyone understood that the proceeds of this show were to serve an important purpose. “The show was a lot of fun to put together and perform,” said Alison Youngberg of the Addlestone Branch, “but the best part was knowing that we were raising money that would save the children’s lives.”
On the night of the performance, the show was a great success. The near-capacity audience was thoroughly entertained. Standing on stage that evening, Amber Travers of the Kingston Ward said, “When we all sang the closing song on stage, there was a really good feeling, a feeling of total unity and friendliness.”
A cheque for nearly £2000 (about $3,214) was donated. Beth Sepion, representing the hospital, said that the show was the most touching and innovative way she had ever seen to raise money. For the Staines Stake youth, it was a chance to learn how much fun service can be and how great things can come from that which is small.

My father grew up on the island of Java in Indonesia. During World War II, he was forcefully separated from his family and interned in a concentration camp, where he suffered unspeakable hardships at a young age.
After more than 65 years of marriage, my mother, who suffered from Alzheimer’s disease, passed away in February. My father, at the age of 92 and still living at home, visited her as often as he could until she passed away. Some time ago he mentioned to my younger siblings that the dreadful experiences in the camp in Indonesia during World War II had prepared him to patiently care for his wife for so many years as she fell ill and deteriorated from this horrible disease and also for the fateful day he had to entrust her primary care to others and could not be by her side anymore. Their motto has been and still is to “Just carry on,” having a perfect hope in Christ to be raised up at the last day and to dwell with Him in glory forever.

I was flying to Iowa a year ago and sat down by the side of a young college student who had been going to Utah State University. I asked him how he liked it and he said, “I just love it.” I asked him why, and he said it was because of the people there. I got his name and address and asked him if it would be okay for two young missionaries to come by to see him. Six months later, I got a letter from the missionaries saying that they were baptizing him, his three brothers and sisters, and his parents that week.

A few years ago I drove to Temple Square in Salt Lake City to meet an acquaintance of the missionaries. Their guest did not keep the appointment. My response to the missionaries was, “The Lord will provide someone for us to teach.” In less than two to three minutes, two adult men walked through the front door of the North Visitors’ Center and directly up to us. They spoke Spanish, and we did not! We assured them the best we could that someone would be able to help them. In moments, the only Spanish-speaking sister missionaries in the entire mission arrived at the visitors’ center because they felt impressed to come there that morning!
Over a period of several weeks the missionary discussions were taught to those men, and they asked to be baptized. The Lord was true to His word. “An effectual door” was opened in the very moment it was needed for this beautiful experience.

I once spoke in a sacrament meeting that I will long remember. The conducting officer, a member of the bishopric who introduced me as the speaker that evening, gave an unusual, rather lengthy introduction that went something like this:
“Brothers and sisters, Elder Ashton will undoubtedly be disappointed when he hears what I am going to say about him and about myself. I heard him say to a group of prisoners once, ‘When you fellows leave this prison and go back into a regular environment, don’t apologize or boast about being ex-convicts. Just go on from where you are.’ Well, many of you in the congregation don’t know it, but I am an ex-convict of the Utah State Prison. About six years ago, when I met Elder Ashton, he was in charge of the Church prison program under the Social Services Department. A few weeks later when I became better acquainted with him, I told him I was a long-distance runner. I asked him if there was any chance for me to run in the annual Salt Lake City 24th of July marathon race. Elder Ashton encouraged me and said he would talk to the prison warden about my getting out for the day to participate in the race. He told me later that the warden agreed if Elder Ashton would take the responsibility for me. Elder Ashton assumed that responsibility and later told me he trusted me and expected me to do well in the contest.
“I’ll never forget that marathon race in July 1971. It was hot, the course was challenging, and I wasn’t in the best physical condition. My only preparation had been running around the prison grounds when I had free time. Halfway through the race I felt completely exhausted; my legs were sore, and blisters covered the bottoms of both my feet. I wanted to quit. I felt I couldn’t continue. Just as I was about to drop out, the thought flashed through my mind, ‘You can’t let Elder Ashton down. He’s counting on you.’ I made it into the final section of the marathon route, and I had the urge to stop. Again the thought came to me: ‘You can’t quit. You want Elder Ashton to be proud of you, don’t you?’
“Well, I finished the race. Not among the first 25, but I finished. I went right back to the prison after the race, according to my agreement. Elder Ashton told me he was proud of me for finishing the race and proud to have me for his friend. I don’t mind telling you that I was a little pleased with myself for one of the first times in my whole life.
“It wasn’t too long after the marathon race that I was released from prison. About a year later I met a lovely young lady; we had a good courtship, and some months after that Elder Ashton accompanied us to the temple and performed our marriage and sealed us for time and all eternity. Tonight, six years later, I am proud to be serving in your bishopric.”

An elderly widow shared a similar sweet experience with me. She opened her front door one wintry day to find a handwritten note left on the doorstep. The note read:

I just wanted to drop you a note to tell you how much I admire you in all the roles you have played—as a mother, teacher, wife, and example of a daughter of God. Thank you for being you. From a friend and admirer.

The anonymous note from a thoughtful neighbor took only a few minutes to write, but the message will lift that faithful widow for months to come.

A little closer to home, most of you are students. You worry about studies. You worry about passing your class. Sometimes you ask for help. Now if you've worked as hard as you can and studied as hard as you can and then ask for help, my experience is that the Lord will bless you. If you don't do the first part and you simply ask the Lord to help you, my experience is that he will not bless you.

When I was completing my Ph.D. requirements at Columbia, I had taken all the required course work, and I was preparing for the comprehensive oral exam that all Ph.D. students have to take. I had worked hard and I had studied hard, but I had made one decision as I started my studies, and that is that I wasn't going to study on Sundays. I was going to devote that day to church and my family.

As the day drew closer for me to take the examination, three of my classmates took theirs first and they all flunked. I thought, "Oh my goodness, they even studied on Sunday and they didn't have enough information to pass the test. What is going to happen to me?" I was nervous, I was concerned, but I had done all that I could do or all that I could think that I could do.

Shortly before it was my turn, the stake president, who had also earned a Ph.D. years before, knocked on our door. Now think of it, a stake president who had a large stake to run, knocked on the door of a poor young student and his wife. We opened the door and invited him in and he said, "I won't stay long, I just wanted you to know that I and my family will pray for you as you finish preparing to take your examination." Now he had 10 children, I knew that was a lot of prayer. I was excited that he and his 10 children were going to pray for me. And I was touched by the fact that he would personally come and convey that message and so when we got down to pray that night, there was a little extra urgency, but peace, in our prayer.

We didn't pray to know things we hadn't studied. We just prayed to be able to do the best that we could. The next day I went up and sat in a room with five full professors. Each of whom came into the room, I think, thinking, "Now what can I do to flunk him, we want to keep our record clean."

The very first question they asked, I had no idea what the answer was, I assumed that was what everybody else studied on Sunday. I couldn't even remember reading about it, let alone what the answer was. I thought, "Oh boy, here we go." I said another quick, quiet prayer. All of a sudden a feeling of peace came over me and I said, I don't know the answer to that question but here's how I'd get the answer to that question. Here's the kind of information I'd get. Here's the hypothesis I'd establish. Here's how I'd go about testing the data to see what the answer was.

They then went through another series of questions, and then again they asked me a question I had no idea what the answer was. I responded in the same way. That happened three times. I was having a wonderful time. I thought that it was actually kind of fun. I knew most of the answers, the questions I didn't know I just told them how I would get the answers. It turned out to be a wonderful, pleasant exciting experience and as I walked out the door I thought, "Oh, my goodness, I flunked." You see, the Spirit left me and I thought, "Oh, how can they possibly pass me when I had three questions that I didn't have a clue what the answer was?"

The next day I was in a seminar for other Ph.D. students working on their dissertations. I was a little late getting to class. I guess it just took me a little longer to get myself together the next morning. So I walked into the back of the class and one of the professors who was leading the seminar had been on my examination team and he had seen that I wasn't there so he had started talking about me. He said, "Yesterday we gave an examination to one of your fellow students," and I thought, "Oh boy, here it comes." He said, "He passed with one of the three highest grades we've ever given in the 25 years that I've been administering these examinations." I had to sit down. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. How could it be? I'm not that smart!

It turned out that what they were looking for was not only the answers to specific questions but they wanted to know whether or not I was able to think. Therefore, they purposefully asked questions I couldn't possibly have known the answer to, just to see how I would approach those questions. And because of the power of prayer and the peace that had settled over me and the help of the Holy Ghost to think clearly and rationally, I was able to respond in a way that they found satisfactory.

Oh yes, after we have done all that we can do, the Lord does answer our prayers. How blessed you are to have direct access to the Holy Ghost that will help you remember the things that you have studied. And as you pray and ask for that help, if you have done all you can do, the Lord will then help you be the best that you can be. God does answer prayers. I know, because He has answered mine.

Coach Ken Jenks has some good news and some bad news for the boys on his soccer team. As members of a recreation-league soccer team, they’ve had incredible success. The LDS boys, who have teamed up with nonmember friends, are some of the best soccer players in the area.
The coach starts with the good news. “Well, boys, we’ve got a great team, and the Southern California Soccer League championship is in the bag,” he says. Then his face clouds a bit, and he delivers the bad news. “But we’ll be playing three games, and one of them is on a Sunday. How do you feel about that?”
Five hands reluctantly but firmly go up. Eric Miller, 14, Jeff Jenks, 14, Justin Bonsey, 14, and twins Trent and Travis Weaver, 15, stand up and tell the group, “We can’t play on Sunday.” The boys, who are members of the Cypress First Ward, Cypress California Stake, aren’t happy about the idea of missing out on the biggest game of the season, but they are sure about their decision.
Although the controversy of the games on Sunday still continues in Orange County sports leagues, the boys’ stand is beginning to make a difference. Many local sports organizations are holding Sunday games less often.
So, as expected, the soccer team plays well on Saturday and wins easily. Then the Mormon boys wish their team the best and go to church on Sunday. The non-LDS members of the team play the championship game and lose. The team takes third place.
Eric shrugs his shoulders, “This game is a temporary thing. I really would have liked to play that championship game if it hadn’t been on Sunday, but I know that keeping the Sabbath will help me return to my Father in Heaven.”
Justin echoes Eric, “It was an individual decision for me, too. I know that it is right and so it didn’t bother me either. The next day some of the kids at school were a little upset, but I think they respected me for staying with my standards.”
And respect from peers, parents, coaches, and other players is a valuable by-product of the sacrifice these boys have made. But perhaps even more important than that is the fact that their example does not go unnoticed by the younger boys waiting for their turn to play the game—but not on Sunday.
Editor’s note: Because of the stand these and other LDS boys have made, regular-season soccer games are no longer held on Sunday in Orange County, California.

The Cantos’ fifth child, Pedrito, was born in a clinic in Quevedo, high in the Andes Mountains near the equator. The boy seemed normal at first, but after two days his bowels had not yet purged their prenatal waste and he was screaming with pain.
His alarmed parents dared not wait even until morning to seek the advice of a specialist, for sudden death had already claimed two of their other children. At three months, Nancy Julema, their third child, had died of an unknown illness. Two years later, their fourth child, one-year-old Juan Carlos, had died of bronchial pneumonia in the arms of his mother on the way to medical help in Guayaquil, Ecuador. The heartbroken mother had gotten off the bus at the next town, but no bus or taxi driver would give her passage back home with the dead child. Finally, in desperation, she had pretended that the child was asleep and hitchhiked a ride part way on a gas truck and then on to Quevedo in a private car.
So, fearing the worst, Pedro Cantos wrapped his newborn son in a blanket, kissed his wife good-bye, and left by taxi for Guayaquil, 175 miles away. As the miles widened between them, the hearts of the parents were as one as they prayed for the life of this child.
When father and son finally arrived at the hospital, the doctors quickly diagnosed the problem as a congenital bowel obstruction, and they immediately made a surgical opening into the colon for drainage.
After three days Pedrito was out of immediate danger. His father returned home to Quevedo, borrowed some money to help pay for the treatment in Guayaquil, and sent his wife back to the hospital to be with their sick baby.
Nancy Cantos and her baby son remained in Guayaquil a month—a sorrowful month for the family. They were given little hope for Pedrito’s recovery, and they didn’t know how or where they could get more money for his care.
Although Pedrito finally grew well enough to come home, he remained ill and feverish. He cried out in pain, unable to sleep or eat. Only forced feedings kept him alive.
At three months, he suffered a severe heart attack. The Cantos then learned that their baby had a serious congenital heart defect. With open-heart surgery he might recover; without surgery he could not possibly live beyond age ten.
And he would always be ill.
Open-heart surgery! But that would cost thousands of dollars. It was impossible!
The saddened parents returned home with their baby. They faced a constant struggle to keep him alive. One day he would seem a bit better; the next day he would be worse again. They had to take him to Guayaquil every two or three weeks for medication and treatment—a financial hardship on their limited income.
In the meantime, they prayed constantly. And their answer came in a dream.
One night when Pedrito was almost ten months old, Nancy dreamed that she saw through her kitchen window—instead of the usual array of crowded buildings—a beautiful, spacious lawn extending as far as she could see. In the distance a man was digging in the earth. She approached him and asked, “What are you doing?”
“I’m planting herbs to cure the illnesses of man,” he replied.
Then Nancy saw an unusual tree nearby. “What is the purpose of that tree?” she asked.
“The tree holds the cure for Pedrito’s illness,” replied the stranger.
“Tell me,” she asked eagerly, “how can I give the tree’s medicine to my child?”
Before the stranger could answer, Nancy saw a man in the distance, standing at the window of a house, looking at her. Immediately he and another man, both dressed in white, left the house and approached her.
Frightened, Nancy ran trembling into her own house and bolted the door. They came to her barred window, looked in at her, and asked, “Why are you afraid?”
“Because—because I’m here alone with my sick child.”
“But do you not know that bolted doors and barred windows cannot keep us out?” they asked kindly. “We were sent by God to help you because of your faith and your diligence in studying the Bible and seeking the word of God.”
Instantly they were inside the house, and Nancy woke up.
The dream remained vivid in Nancy’s thoughts, yet she told no one.
A week later, two missionaries knocked on the Cantos’s door. That evening they gave Nancy, Pedro, and their two older sons, Cesar and Fernando, the first discussion.
Before they left, the elders gave the family a Book of Mormon, after first marking for them the passages they had been discussing about Christ’s visit to America. They also felt inspired to underline the passages relating to Lehi’s dream about the tree of life—something they had never done before.
Later, as Nancy Cantos read the account of Lehi’s dream, she became excited. It was so similar to her own! She knew in her heart that this was the answer to their prayers.
Eagerly she read the passages to her husband and told him about her dream. He, too, believed this was their answer. “If we obey God’s commandments and hold to the iron rod, our baby will be healed,” he told his wife.
The Cantos could hardly wait for the next discussion.
One night when the elders came to the Cantos home, Pedrito was unusually ill. The elders felt prompted to discuss the principle of priesthood administrations. The family eagerly sought a blessing for Pedrito, who was so thin you could see the bones under his skin. Up until then, he had been unable to tolerate any food except milk. He could neither walk nor talk, and he rarely slept more than an hour or two at a time.
The elders administered to the child and left the house with a strong feeling that he would recover.
From that time on, Pedrito began to improve. The Cantos family were baptized, and the welfare services missionaries helped Sister Cantos get Pedrito started on solid foods. He began to gain weight, and for the first time in his life, he slept through the night. He also learned to walk and talk. The frequent, costly trips to Guayaquil were no longer necessary.
Then, suddenly, Pedrito became ill again. His temperature was dangerously high, and his parents took him back to Guayaquil. The doctors told them that he would have to remain in the hospital at least five days. They also told the Cantos that if Pedrito were to live, he would have to undergo open-heart surgery right away.
But to everyone’s surprise, Pedrito was well enough to leave the hospital the next day.
Back in Quevedo, the welfare services missionaries helped the Cantos apply for help with the cost of the surgery. The doctors told the Cantos that they would have to go to the United States or Brazil for the surgery. But a member of the Church, who had recently had a family member operated on for a similar problem, told them about another doctor—Dr. Oswald Bonilla, a heart specialist in nearby Quito.
Although his calendar was full for several months, Dr. Bonilla agreed to see Pedrito in two weeks. But complications kept Dr. Bonilla from seeing Pedrito immediately. Sister Cantos had been taking a tailoring class so that she could earn money to help pay some of their medical bills. As the day for the appointment with Dr. Bonilla approached, she learned that her final examination was scheduled for the same day.
Dr. Bonilla graciously postponed the appointment for another two weeks. This time, a bus strike kept them from meeting with him. Finally, after six weeks, they stood before Dr. Bonilla.
Electrocardiograms, x-rays, and many other tests revealed that Pedrito was too weak to endure surgery. “It will take at least eight or nine months to build him up sufficiently,” Dr. Bonilla told the worried parents. The doctor ordered another series of tests.
Three days later, just before Pedrito was taken in for the new tests, two young men in white shirts and dark suits told Dr. Bonilla, “We would like to give the child a blessing.”
“You have five minutes,” the doctor said, and he left the room.
Later that afternoon he whistled in amazement. The test results showed such a remarkable improvement in Pedrito that Dr. Bonilla decided to schedule the surgery immediately.
“It was worse than we thought,” Dr. Bonilla told the parents and the elders and sisters who had waited with them during the five anguish-filled hours of the surgery. “You keep praying, though, and Pedrito will live.”
Pedrito did live. He recovered rapidly. Soon he was running and playing like any other little boy. And Pedrito’s struggle for life has wrought other miracles. Dr. Bonilla and his assistant, Dr. Lopez, were touched by this display of faith and by the miracle they saw when the elders administered to Pedrito. They decided not to charge for the surgery.
Many of Sister Cantos’s family have accepted the gospel, and members of Brother Cantos’s family are anxiously waiting for the missionaries to come to a remote area where they live so that they, too, can be taught the gospel.

Though all of us have to do things we do not like, it is important that you ultimately enjoy your work. If you can’t stand to be indoors, maybe you had better try to find something that you would like to do outside. One high school senior loved to fish and camp, and consequently he became very knowledgeable about nature. He got in touch with two prominent naturalists and they hired him. His job? To help study the habits and life of the grizzly bear in Yellowstone National Park.

A true story: As a boy working in my father’s drugstore, I was rewarded for work and given a model plane in its box. The name of the plane was the Grumman Hellcat. As I assembled the parts, I looked on the colorful images on the outside of the model box, where it was fighting Japanese Zeros in World War II.

Later in my life, while serving as mission president in Oregon, I visited the Evergreen Aviation and Space Museum and was surprised and excited to see the real Hellcat preserved in just the way it looked in 1942 and flight-ready. All the memories flowed back. Inscribed on the plaque on the adjacent stanchion to the plane was a brief history.

Two things caught my eye: how successful the Hellcat was and the motto of the Grumman Corporation. Prior to this airplane being commissioned, we were doing poorly in aerial dogfights in the Pacific theater. But a tenacious and resourceful aeronautical engineering team at Grumman changed all of that. The Hellcat achieved a 19 to 1 success ratio; for every 19 planes it downed, 1 Hellcat was lost. The key to success was Leo Grumman’s motto: “Keep it simple. Build it strong. Make it work.”

Simple, strong, and fast, it was very successful. These three maxims are there for the taking: Keep it simple, build it strong, and make it work. What can I do to simplify my life? What can I do daily now to strengthen my faith and trust in God? I can do the hard thing.

So some years ago, when I was a graduate student in Berkley, California, my husband, who was not yet my husband at the time, he and I went to see a movie at a theater in Palo Alto, California not far from the Stanford campus. It was a movie called 35 Up and this movie was actually the most recent iteration in a series, a documentary series that had been made by British filmmakers beginning many years earlier.

The first film in the series was called 7 Up which has nothing to do with the soda pop, but was instead this group of film makers who went and gathered this array of seven-year-old British school children. They filmed them and interviewed them and talked to them about their lives. They took children from a great variety, very many different walks of life; kids who were bound for Eaton and Oxford and other children who had very different futures in line for them.

I had never heard of this series, until we went to see 35 Up. We sat through the interviews and the conversations with this array of people who had been interviewed every seven years of their lives ever since they had been seven. Some had dropped out and ceased to be a part of the project, others were still very much involved with the project.

The final individual, who was featured in this film, was a man whose life was troubled at best. He was actually doing apparently quite a lot better at thirty-five than he had been doing at twenty-eight. My future brother-in-law's wife, my future sister-in-law turned to me and said, "In 28 Up he was homeless and living in a trailer." He was a man who clearly had some issues and I, as I said, was living in Berkeley at the time not far from campus. I would walk to and from campus every day for course work and then back to my apartment. The walk to and from campus would take me along a not very clean street in Berkeley that was filled with panhandlers and drug addicts. When I saw this man in the film, the first thought that occurred to me was, if I saw him in Berkeley, I would cross the street to avoid him. That's the kind of individual I would tend to shy away from.

But in 35 Up this hadn't been the case, you didn't just see the man at 35. They showed clips from all of the earlier movies from 7 Up, from 14 Up, from 21, 28. And so instead of just seeing this deeply troubled, disturbing figure at thirty-five, I also saw the boy. And this boy was beautiful, bright-eyed, vibrant, intelligent, articulate, little lad-completely loveable. Because I had seen the child, I found myself perfectly capable of loving the man because I had some idea of who he really was: of that innocence, of that beauty, of that energy that had characterized him as a seven-year-old. And it completely transformed my perception of him as an adult. Instead of thinking, "I would run from that person," I felt drawn to him. I felt great compassion and great and quite real love for him.

It occurred to me then and it has occurred to me many times in the years since, that this is how and why parents are perfectly capable of loving us as teenagers. I have some teenagers and they're great and I love them. I mean they're quite adorable and pleasant now as they were as small children. But it occurred to me, too, that this gave me at least a little glimpse in to how our Heavenly Father can see us. He doesn't just know the flawed mortal you. He knows who you really are and He can see that and He loves it. If we can see something of that in one another, if we can just see a glimpse of that, how it can transform our sense of one another.

My wife’s mother is an expert in edification. When the children were young and visited their grandma, every visit required a thorough examination. She would say, “Open up your mouth so I can see if you’ve been good.” She then proclaimed her diagnosis: “Oh, I can tell you’ve been good. I can always tell.” No child ever questioned the need for grandma to look inside to see if they had been “good”; it seemed natural that their grandma would not be able to discern their goodness by examining their outward appearance. To see if they had been edified, she needed to look upon the heart.

The old missionary joke about an elder’s having to lose either his girl or his hair as one of the “costs” of his mission may have some basis in the warm and humorous story told by another of the great and valiant servants in the early Church, Heber C. Kimball. Brother Kimball was bald, even when he was young. People used to tease him about his baldness, and once he explained how he lost his hair. It seems that shortly after he joined the Church, while still a very young man, he was called on a mission to Nova Scotia. He traveled the entire 1500 miles from his home in New York on foot, with his valise on his back.
“Soon after I started, I found that I was rather unlearned, though I knew that before, but I knew it better after I started. I began to study the Scriptures … and I had so little knowledge that exercise of study began to swell my head and open my pores insomuch that the hairs dropped out; and if you will let your minds expand as mine did you will have no hair on your heads.”5

But Te Oranoa M., age 17, from New Zealand has a different take on things. “What inspires me about this scripture,” she says, “is that it doesn’t say they are lost forever.”

What an incredible insight! And it’s one that comes from personal experience. “I, myself, fell away from the Church,” she says, “but I have been able to come back.”

Te Oranoa grew up in the Church and talks about gaining her own testimony and even setting spiritual goals. “But that testimony grew cold,” she says.

In some ways, she found common ground with Amulek, particularly in the way he described himself to the people of Ammonihah: “I did harden my heart, for I was called many times and I would not hear; therefore I knew concerning these things, yet I would not know” (Alma 10:6).

For Te Oranoa, that scripture hits close to home. “Just like Amulek, I knew all these spiritual things, and the Spirit was telling me to do certain things, but because I was being a bit stubborn and a bit prideful, I wouldn’t do them. Afterward, my testimony kind of faded away.”

In the end, Amulek’s story would become more than merely familiar to Te Oranoa. It would also become a turning point on the road back.

Even during the time when her faith had grown cold, she could still remember sweet experiences from before. Te Oranoa never forgot how she’d felt when attending the temple with her youth group or going to a youth conference.

“There was a pattern,” she says. “I’d feel really good when I came to church, but I didn’t feel good when I missed church.”

There finally came a day when Te Oranoa decided to see if she could connect with those good feelings again. The first thing she did was to read through recent general conference addresses.

An October 2016 general conference address, “Learn from Alma and Amulek,” by President Dieter F. Uchtdorf, Second Counselor in the First Presidency, woke something in Te Oranoa’s soul. She recognized a lot of her own life and feelings as President Uchtdorf described how Amulek’s faith had faded. She also remembered more strongly than ever the happiness she had enjoyed when her faith was stronger. Instantly, she wanted to make some changes.

“I was hoping to find something to reignite that fire of my testimony,” she explains, “so I read President Uchtdorf’s talk, and yes, I felt on fire!”

Te Oranoa’s path back to faith hasn’t always been easy, but there is a particular light at the end of the tunnel that keeps her going: the hope of an eternal family.

“Families can be together forever,” she says. “That’s my biggest dream, my biggest hope in life. Whenever I want to learn about something, or I find a doctrine hard to understand, I try and relate it back to eternal families. For example, why is Jesus Christ’s Atonement important to me? For one thing, I need His Atonement in my life so I can be worthy to enter the temple and be sealed to my family for all eternity.”

It’s perhaps worth remembering that the people in Lehi’s vision who fell away after tasting the fruit did, in fact, still taste it. They must have known of its goodness, even if only briefly. And they can discover it again. That’s the hope Te Oranoa clings to, for herself and for others.

“You don’t have to keep going down those forbidden paths for the rest of your life,” she says. “You can turn back to the Lord whenever you want.”

In my office I have a little plaque that reads, “Above all else, brethren, let us think straight”—the last known words spoken by my grandfather Elder Melvin J. Ballard in mortality. As I understand the circumstances, Grandfather, after a very grueling experience of preaching the gospel all through the eastern part of the United States, drove his own car from New York to Salt Lake City. When he came into the driveway at his home, he collapsed and was rushed to the LDS Hospital and was found to have an acute case of leukemia. He never came out of the hospital. He went in and out of coma, but as I have had it told to me by my father, who was there, Grandfather pushed himself up on his elbows and looked into his hospital room as though he were addressing a congregation or a group and said with clarity, “And above all else, brethren, let us think straight.” I don’t go into my office any day of the week that I don’t see that, and I find that it helps me a little bit.

Rainbow stepped from the shelter of the wigwam just as the soft summer rain stopped. Turning her face to the sun and closing her dark eyes, she took a deep breath. Everything smelled fresh and new after a rain.
“I see Rainbow enjoys the scent of the earth after its bath too.” Rainbow didn’t have to look to see who had spoken to her, for she knew well the voice of her great-grandfather.
“Oh, Great-Grandfather, isn’t it lovely!” she exulted. Her delight in it was even greater now that she was sharing it with the person she loved most.
Great-Grandfather nodded. He patted the ground, inviting Rainbow to sit with him. “That which you are named after is especially beautiful this day,” he said, looking above the tall trees to the colored arch stretching across the sky.
Rainbow loved the many colors of the rainbow, but every time she saw one, she was reminded of her own plainness. She felt her spirits sinking, and the world no longer seemed as lovely as it had a short time ago.
Sensing Rainbow’s mood changing, Great-Grandfather asked, “Why do you grow sad?” When she didn’t answer, they both sat in silence. He would let her decide when the time was right for talking.
This was Rainbow’s thirteenth summer, and her sorrow grew deeper with each one. The daughter of a Sioux chief, she was proud of her heritage, yet …
“Great-Grandfather, Running Antelope is able to run with the swiftness of an antelope, isn’t he?”
Great-Grandfather gave Rainbow his complete attention, “Yes, he is as quick and surefooted as an antelope.”
“My other brother, Red Fox, is skillful and cunning.”
“As the red fox is, so is he.”
While they talked, Rainbow had been watching the multicolored rainbow grow pale and fade away. I wish that I, too, could fade away, she thought. “Great-Grandfather, on the day of my birth, you chose my name. Is that not true?”
“That is true.”
Picking at the fringe on her dress, Rainbow whispered sadly, “But the rainbow is beautiful.”
“Yes, it is beautiful—as are you.”
She was surprised at his answer. No one had ever told her that she was beautiful, and she knew why. She was not beautiful; not even pretty.
“Great-Grandfather, I love you for saying so, but I am plain, and I know it.”
The old man rose on wavering legs. He paused, letting his limbs gain strength. “Stay here; I will return.”
Lost in her misery, Rainbow hardly noticed his absence. It haunted her that she couldn’t live up to her name as her brothers lived up to theirs.
She was shaken out of her thoughts when something was pressed into her hand. Looking up, she found Great-Grandfather had returned. He squatted beside her and said, “As a child, you received joy from this. Do you remember?”
She nodded, gazing at the smooth object she held. The solid glass bar had three sides, each end exactly like the other. It was transparent, but by holding it just right, she could see the seven colors of the rainbow reflected on a boulder or on the side of the wigwam.
“I have had this many years,” Great-Grandfather told her. “When you were a baby and I first held you, I knew you to be as this glass.”
Rainbow looked at him in wonder. “How can that be?”
“The glass, though attractive, is plain. Its beauty is hidden, yet is always there. To me, you are beautiful. I see the colors of the rainbow within you. They radiate your inner beauty with every smile and every tear for others.”
Rainbow threw her arms around him. “I love you, Great-Grandfather!”
“And I love you, beautiful Rainbow.”

Let me tell you a little bit more about what comes through inspired patriarchs. One of the most powerful ways the Lord conveys his will to you and to me is through a patriarchal blessing. The Lord crafts those blessings personally for each one of us. I’ll tell you something a little bit humorous about my patriarchal blessing in that respect, given that tomorrow is Valentine’s Day.

I took a date one time to general conference in Salt Lake while I was attending BYU. In between conference sessions, we ran into our stake patriarch, Brother Delbert V. Groberg from Idaho Falls. (Incidentally, the “V” in his middle name stands for Valentine). Well, I introduced my date to him and we chatted for a few minutes and then went on to conference and that’s the last I thought of it. A few weeks passed and I was talking to my dad, and he said “I understand that you ran into Brother Groberg down at conference.” I said “Yeah, I did. How do you know that?” And he said, “well, I just happened to bump into him” (They were in the same ward). And they got to talking and I said “Well, what did he say Dad?” And my dad just simply said, “She’s not the one!” You can imagine how I felt when Dad related that experience to me! I recalled the portion of my patriarchal blessing that spoke of marriage and family, and I began to wonder if Brother Groberg had seen a vision of my future wife! I really didn’t know what he saw or felt, but I was impressed that he cared enough about me to offer guidance, and I respected him enough to follow it.

Julie B. Beck, Relief Society general president, explains that “providing for ourselves and others is evidence that we are disciples of the Lord Jesus Christ. … When [my mother-in-law] passed away suddenly last year, she left evidence of her self-reliant life. She had a current temple recommend and well-used scriptures and gospel study manuals. We lovingly divided up the pots, pans, and dishes with which she had prepared thousands of meals. She left us quilts she had made from old clothing. She believed in the old adage ‘Use it up, wear it out, make it do, or do without.’ We saw the supply of food she had grown, preserved, and stored. Particularly touching were her little account books in which she faithfully recorded her expenditures over many years. Because she lived providently, she left some money she had saved for emergencies, and she left no debts! Most importantly, she had taught and inspired many others with the skills she had acquired during her faithful life.”2

Each Dominican youth has a cherished conversion story to tell. “I was invited to a church activity with some friends,” says Pedro Rodriguez, “and was really impressed. I began reading the scriptures on my own, and I knew I wanted to be a missionary and share what those books contained with everyone else. I was baptized soon after that, and I’m waiting my year before I can serve. I never knew I could feel so much.”