Gospel Story Finder

Bishop David Day of Aylesbury Ward in the Watford Stake decided that 2021’s Mothering Sunday needed to be different and certainly needed to reflect the technical journey on which most members have been during COVID restrictions.
Every year, the Aylesbury Ward has given all sisters a small gift on Mothering Sunday, hoping that they would understand how much they are appreciated. Sometimes it has been a flower, and sometimes chocolate. Last year everyone received an Easter egg.
As COVID-19 has caused many ward meetings to go online and delivering a physical gift in person would go against the spirit of current government advice, the Bishopric turned to a digital gift for the first time.
The primary children and youth in the ward were asked to send the bishopric a video explaining why they loved their mothers, or why mothers were amazing. This was done without their mothers being aware—the children enjoyed recording each other with their dads’ phones!
Bishop Day then edited the videos and used them to prepare a short video presentation, which included quotes from Church leaders. At the end of the ward’s Zoom sacrament meeting, he asked the sisters to check their email inbox for the link to the video.
Many sisters immediately reported back to him, expressing their joy at receiving this video, which included loving messages. It was a fabulous surprise from their children.

It was a considerable change to go from one of the nation’s premier universities located in a large metropolitan area to a small, private, two-year school in the rural farm town of Rexburg, Idaho. But it was a wonderful time for the Eyrings. It provided an opportunity for the family to grow closer to one another. The two older boys, whose school was near the campus, would come to his office each day at noon to have lunch with him. But it was more than that. “At Ricks I worked with a dedicated faculty and staff. I looked into the faces of those wholesome young people of faith and intelligence who were so open and friendly and determined to serve the Lord, and I was deeply impressed.”
“We loved the people in Rexburg,” Kathy says of that time. “They were wonderful, faithful Latter-day Saints. And I knew it was what Hal should be doing.”
While he was there, even though he was president, he couldn’t pass up a chance to follow one of his great loves: he taught religion classes with one of the other instructors, going through all four scripture courses before he was through. He also taught a young adult Sunday School class. A recent letter to the Church magazine tells of one young man’s experience in that class. “I was drifting, being a bit rebellious,” he wrote. Then he and his friends began attending Brother Eyring’s class. It was the influence he needed. He went on a mission, married in the temple, and has remained active since then. “Elder Eyring probably has no idea how much he affected so many of us,” the letter concludes. “It is just the quiet, powerful influence of a great disciple of Christ.”

To conclude, I’d like to share one final story. A few years ago, I had an experience that served as a wake-up call about how important it is to be spiritually prepared. Some employees will remember this too. It was January of 2018 when all of the phones on the island went off with a loud emergency sound and message that said: “Emergency Alert: Ballistic Missile Threat Inbound to Hawaii. Seek Immediate Shelter. This Is Not a Drill.”

In that moment, I wasn’t worried about my to-do list, the emails in my inbox, or the projects I had going on at work. My thoughts went immediately to my family and to my relationship with my Heavenly Father. I felt at peace because I knew my family knew I loved them. And I knew that I would be together with my family again after I left this earth.

President Nelson has reminded us that mortality is precious and short. Although that alert was sent in error, that morning, I learned in a very real way that we don’t know how many days we have left. But we do know that Heavenly Father yearns for us to use whatever days we are given to grow into our highest potential as His sons and His daughters.

“So, Christopher, what did you do in Primary today?” Dad asked after church.
“We talked about being honest,” Christopher answered. “And we worked on the Articles of Faith. I have all but the thirteenth memorized.”
“Good for you!” Dad said. “Mom and I are really pleased that you’re learning them.” He looked at Sarah. “What did you do today, honey?”
“We ate crackers, and we sang songs, and I colored this picture for you.”
“It’s beautiful, Sarah. Thank you.” Dad pulled his keys out of his pocket, unlocked the car, and opened the door. “Get yourselves strapped in. Mom will be here soon.”
“Why do I have to wear a seat belt?” Christopher asked as he and Sarah buckled up.
Before Dad could answer, Sarah added, “Why do I have to sit in a car seat? I’m not a baby.”
Dad smiled. “There are two reasons. First, we use seat belts and car seats because they will protect us if we are in an accident. Second, we do it because it’s the law and we obey the law.”
“I know lots of people who don’t wear seat belts,” Christopher protested.
“Whether to wear a seat belt or not is each person’s own choice, but they have to live with the consequences,” Dad explained. “That’s part of Heavenly Father’s plan.”
“Oh, Dad,” Christopher laughed. “Heavenly Father doesn’t care about seat belts.”
“Or car seats,” Sarah chimed in.
“You don’t think so?” Dad asked. “Christopher, let me hear you say the twelfth article of faith.”
“‘We believe in being subject to kings, presidents, rulers, and magistrates, in obeying, honoring, and sustaining the law.’”
“Very good. Now, what does it mean?”
“It means that we believe it’s OK to have a president or a king or something like that—right?”
“That’s part of it,” Dad said, “but it also means that we believe in obeying the laws set by the president or king or whoever is in the government. And I believe that that applies to laws about seat belts and car seats.”
Just then Mom came. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” she said. “We can go now.”
“Not until you fasten your seat belt,” Sarah told her.
“It’s the law, you know,” Christopher added, “and we believe in obeying the law.”

My husband, Max, and I were married in the fall, and the next spring we both graduated from BYU. During this time the military draft was in force, and Max had received a letter indicating that he would be drafted into military service upon graduation. During Max’s two years in the service I taught school near my hometown so that I could be near my family. After his service, Max worked with his family ranching operation for a year. Then we decided he should come back to BYU to get more education. Finances were tight, and I was expecting our first baby, but we were able to find a tiny basement apartment that fit our budget, and he started school. Shortly after, Max was called to be the Young Men president. He was a little concerned because his studies were rigorous and took a lot of time, but he accepted the calling.
One day my husband came home quite devastated. He had received a C on his first test in a class that was critical to his major. He had studied hard, and he began to doubt his ability to compete in that major. His shoes were filling with the sand of discouragement and doubt. For several days he couldn’t eat or sleep as he worried about what to do. He considered giving up and going back to life on the ranch to do what he knew best and what he was comfortable with. After a lot of prayer and soul-searching, he decided to continue with his education, and he graduated with honors.
In hindsight, the C on a test was such a little thing, but often it is the little things—the little grains of sand—that distract us and keep us from seeing with an eternal perspective. I will always be grateful that my husband was willing to dump the sand from his shoes and move on. Because he was willing to pay the price and move beyond his comfort zone, many doors of opportunity were opened to him. Throughout his life he has used his skills and knowledge not only to bless our family but many others as well.

There is an old story of a waiter who asked a customer if he had enjoyed the meal. The man said that everything was fine, but it would have been better if they had given him more than two slices of bread.
The next day, when the man came to eat again, the waiter gave him four pieces of bread. The man said he still wished he had more. So the next day, the waiter gave him eight pieces! But the man still wasn’t satisfied.
Finally, on the fourth day, the waiter was really determined to make the man happy. So he took a nine-foot-long (3-m) loaf of bread, cut it in half, and with a smile, served it to the customer. Instead of being grateful, the man looked up and said, “The food was good, as always. But I see you’re back to giving me only two slices of bread.”

As I mentioned, during my early years we had only one ward in Pleasant View, and all but a couple of families in town were ward members. I really didn’t know that any other churches existed, and later in my life it came as a bit of a shock to me to learn that everyone did not belong to the church that I belonged to. I can’t say that I had a testimony of the truthfulness of the gospel because I really hadn’t thought about it much. My parents were good, kind, and loving parents, and I trusted them and their judgment.

Then it happened. One day during a deacons quorum meeting our advisor decided that we would have a testimony meeting; it may have been that he had not gotten around to preparing a lesson. It wasn’t that I hadn’t shared my testimony before; in fact, I was one of those kids who thought that bearing testimony was what one was supposed to do at every testimony meeting. But it wasn’t the cool thing to do at age 12.

I suppose that we had about eight or 10 deacons in our quorum, and slowly (although not slow enough, it seemed to me) one boy after another stood to share his testimony. I was almost panicky because I just didn’t know what I would say. I hoped that maybe the time would run out and I wouldn’t feel obligated to stand, but it did not; a small group of 10 deacons sharing their testimonies doesn’t take more than about 10 minutes, so plenty of time still remained when all of the other boys had finished standing and sharing their testimonies. I stood awkwardly and recited the same basic things most of the others had said: “I love my mom and dad. I know the Church is true. I know Joseph Smith was a prophet. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”

The thing was done, but for the first time in my life I realized that it was a lie. The only thing I had said that I knew to be true was that I loved my mom and dad. I really did not know if the Church was true or if Joseph Smith was a prophet, but I knew then that I had to find out. I had to know for myself.

I don’t remember exactly when I finally asked—whether it was that day or the next week or the next month—but I do remember that one night, when my two brothers who shared a room with me were sleeping, I knelt by my bed and pleaded with my Father in Heaven to forgive me for my weaknesses and to let me know if this church that I belonged to was truly His church. I had never prayed with such intent before, and I am not sure I have ever prayed with such fervor since. I did not ask for a vision or visitation; I really only wanted to know that someone was there. I was only about 12 or 13 years old, and yet I can still feel to this day the power of the spiritual witness that came to me that night confirming that this was indeed the Church of Jesus Christ and that my Father in Heaven knew me and loved me. The test had worked, just as the scriptures promised.

Walter C., age 15, Jaén, Peru
For a long time I was the only member in my school. My closest friends seemed to understand me, but other school friends made fun of me. One day I prayed and felt the need to talk with one of them who encouraged the others to make fun of me. I explained that I didn’t feel angry at him, but I asked him to give me the respect he’d like to have. After hearing our conversation, one of my teachers always defended me when he saw something happen. I know that the Lord will be with you as you talk with these people.

“Before I was eight years old, I sometimes walked in my sleep. I would get up at night without knowing it and do strange things. One night I went to a neighbor’s home and told them that my parents weren’t home. Another time, I walked into a neighbors’ home in the middle of the night and gave them a bunch of daisies because they had just had a new baby. When I learned about what I had done, I became very frightened and couldn’t sleep at night. My mother suggested that I pray about my problem. She prayed with me that I would be able to sleep without sleepwalking. From then on, I was able to sleep without fear. Praying and receiving that help was a personal, spiritual experience for me.”

Camping at a castle is just business as usual for the girls in the Adana Turkey Branch. All three girls live in Turkey because their fathers are stationed at the Air Force Base there. Because of their unique circumstances the regular girls’ camp program was modified to fit their needs.
The camp lasted only 24 hours (the girls spend their school vacations in the States with family and friends, so camp was held on a weekend), and the tents were pitched on rocks near an old castle in the Taurus mountains. Lots of other things were just like any other girls’ camp; they cooked tinfoil dinners over a fire, sang silly songs, and even made a craft.
“We’ve never had camp just for us,” says 17-year-old Hanim Christensen. “I wish I could have gone before. I really like it.”
The girls also certified and participated in a hike in scorching 90-degree temperatures, exploring the castle and mountain trails.
The girls had so much fun, they’re thinking of stretching camp out for two days next year.

When I was teaching sixth grade a number of years ago, a 14-year-old boy dressed in gang attire was marched into my classroom. He was two years older and four years larger than the other 30 students. Quickly I discovered Brian did not read, had not attended school with any regularity, and had lived with a variety of guardians in a number of cities.
Report card time was coming up, and I came to school on my day off to finish recording the children’s work and mark the report cards. As I entered the classroom to gather up the records, I could see Brian had the class in an upheaval. I suggested to my grateful coteacher that I would take Brian with me. With some first-grade primers filled with pictures, we headed to the library, talking a little football on the way.
We settled ourselves at a table where I was marking report cards. I asked him if he had ever had a report card.
He shook his head and said, “No.” I asked if he would like a report card.
He looked directly at me. “Only if it said I was a good boy.”
I made out a special card for him, emphasizing his strengths. I wrote his full name on it and his ability to include everyone and make people laugh. I specifically mentioned his love of sports. It was not a traditional report card but seemed to please him. Not too long after that, Brian disappeared from our school, and the last I heard of him, he was living in another state. I hoped he had my report card saying that he was a good boy in his pocket, wherever he was.

When I was almost 12, I was so excited to go to the temple. My family and I talked about what it was going to be like inside, and I looked at pictures of the inside of temples as well.
A few weeks before I went to do temple baptisms, my family had a special family home evening. We listened to great stories about some of our ancestors and learned about where they lived and what their lives were like. I even found out that my great-great-grandpa was struck by lightning and survived! Some of my ancestors were from England, so my little brothers and I colored pictures of the English flag. I felt like I made a little connection with my ancestors.
The temple was as beautiful inside as it was outside. Everyone there was so nice, and there was a warm and peaceful spirit there. It was different than anything I had felt before. Everything was exactly perfect. My aunt brought names of some family members who hadn’t been baptized yet. As we were waiting, my mom and aunt and I imagined what these women were like when they lived on earth 300 years ago. It was special to have my dad baptize me for them.
Seeing everyone in white made me feel like I was surrounded by angels. The temple is like heaven on earth.

I have read some of the histories of the disaster which we commemorate this day. Of particular note is the account of the near spontaneous collection of flowers throughout Salt Lake City by young and old to be sent to Scofield to somehow alleviate the terrible suffering and grief. I was moved to tears as I read from the account.
“In Salt Lake words cannot describe the scenes that took place. Every one was anxious to do their part, and the school children, … hastened from house to house gathering flowers from all the gardens in the city until almost three carloads were furnished” (History of the Scofield Mine Disaster, 57).
The flowers were placed in the baggage compartment of a special train bound for Scofield. I quote now from the account.
The flowers “were spread out on the seats two and three feet high throughout the rest of the car. …
“Everything seemed to be there that might help to cheer those who have lived out in the hills, far away from the flowers and who are now experiencing the most dreadful calamity that has ever occurred in the western country. …
“The … car, with the lilacs and cut flowers, was switched into a sidetrack near the cemetery early in the morning. The car was next to the roadway over which the long train of wagons passed as they bore the bodies to their last resting place. The doors of the car were thrown open, and as each wagon came by, it halted while Captain Barrett and his aids, … buried the coffins under lilacs and handed each driver a bunch of cut flowers for the widows and children who accompanied the coffins. At the forward end of the car, the boys in charge were almost overwhelmed by requests for flowers. Work as fast as they could, the mournful little groups of women and children, in significant black, were still there awaiting their turn for the blossoms. If the donors of the flowers and the people who helped collect them could have seen the gratitude and appreciation of Scofield they would have been repaid an hundred fold for their work. …
“Just before noon came a plea from the Finns. Their spokesman came aboard the car and said they had sixty-one dead, none of whom had a friend in the country, aside from the people of their nationality. He asked as a favor that flowers be reserved for them until their train came down the canyon. There was an abundance for all, and the man’s face lighted with evident pleasure when he was assured that all the coffins would be decorated and the graves covered with flowers. The distribution alone took nearly all the time from nine o’clock in the morning until the heavy rain late in the afternoon stopped the melancholy procession” (57–61). To these flowers were added additional bouquets from towns along the route of the train.

Secondly, I believe that personal honesty is critical to your own sense of confidence, and overcoming fear.
Early in my freshman year in college, I was feeling somewhat lost and inferior and sat down and put together a list of the people I admired most. As I looked at that list of the people I really looked up to and tried to think about what character traits that they might have that I might emulate, I came to the conclusion that the one most prominent common denominator among all these people I admired was personal honesty! We don't like to be around people who are dishonest. And, how can we like ourselves and feel confident about ourselves if we are not honest inside. Dishonesty brings about fear and then mistrust in personal relationships. Being honest builds confidence and self-esteem. To feel good inside-to like what we see inside-to have self-esteem and not be afraid of the future-we must be honest.
I remember an experience at the passport office in Dallas. I needed a passport and didn't really have time to go to the passport office, so I tried to squeeze a trip in during lunch hour. I raced to the passport office and was disappointed to see a long line. I decided that I could save time by filling out the application while I was standing in line. I filled it out completely and was aware that the line as moving fast enough that I was going to get my passport application certified and get back to the office on time. There was one blank that I had difficulty with. It said "Write in the name and phone number of someone who should be reached in case of emergency." I had already written in pen my brother's name, but realized that I didn't have his phone number with me. Fearing that an empty blank would prevent a faithful government employee from giving me my passport I took my best guess at the number without a great deal of confidence that it was true -and prepared to pay my money and hand in the application. After all, nothing was going to happen to me on the trip anyway. All went well until the passport clerk took my money and said, "Please raise your right hand. Do you swear that everything on this application is completely true." I had a deep feeling of discomfort in the pit of my stomach. I looked her in the eye and replied ,"Everything is true except my brother's phone number." She said "what." I said I am not sure my brother's phone number is correct. I didn't have it with me so I guessed. She burst out laughing and called the other clerks and said, "Hey you have to hear this." They all had a good laugh. The phone number was whited out and I did have my application approved.

Prison warden Kenyon J. Scudder has related this experience: A friend of his happened to be sitting in a railroad coach next to a young man who was obviously depressed. Finally the man revealed that he was a paroled convict returning from a distant prison. His imprisonment had brought shame to his family, and they had neither visited him nor written often. He hoped, however, that this was only because they were too poor to travel and too uneducated to write. He hoped, despite the evidence, that they had forgiven him.
To make it easy for them, however, he had written them to put up a signal for him when the train passed their little farm on the outskirts of town. If his family had forgiven him, they were to put a white ribbon in the big apple tree which stood near the tracks. If they didn’t want him to return, they were to do nothing, and he would remain on the train as it traveled west.
As the train neared his home town, the suspense became so great he couldn’t bear to look out of his window. He exclaimed, “In just five minutes the engineer will sound the whistle, indicating our approach to the long bend which opens into the valley I know as home. Will you watch for the apple tree at the side of the track?” His companion changed places with him and said he would. The minutes seemed like hours, but then there came the shrill sound of the train whistle. The young man asked, “Can you see the tree? Is there a white ribbon?”
Came the reply: “I see the tree. I see not one white ribbon, but many. There must be a white ribbon on every branch. Son, someone surely does love you.”
In that instant he stood cleansed by Christ.
His friend said, “I felt as if I had witnessed a miracle.”

Another experience was related to me recently by one of our priesthood holders. This is what he said:
“I, with my wife and teenage son and daughter, had a very serious car accident. My wife, daughter, and son escaped without any serious injury. The car was totaled. As I was pulled out of the wreck, I was in a state of shock, paralyzed, and semiconscious. The wreckers could not figure out how we came out alive.
“As people came to the scene of the accident, one man ordered them not to move me for fear of causing paralysis. He was the first man on the scene, and as he examined me he found that I was wearing temple garments. He was a Mormon. After seeing me safely in the ambulance and on the way to the next town, he alerted the bishopric; and as I arrived at the hospital the brethren were there to administer to me. The attending physician at the hospital was a stake president.
“For the next week I was on the critical list, and a member of the bishopric insisted that my wife and family stay at his home, taking meals and shelter there. After three or four days my wife and family returned home to Phoenix, and the members of the ward rallied around my family to help wherever they could. One good brother offered the use of his private plane or motor home to bring me back home. We used the motor home, which made it possible for them to slide the stretcher into it.
“When I arrived home there were many friends there to greet me, and my dear friend and member of my priesthood quorum who is a fine physician took care of me. We cannot express our gratitude to those who offered assistance in so many ways, but most definitely we witnessed there the priesthood in action and always will be grateful to be members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints where such brotherhood is fostered.”

Let me illustrate with a personal and treasured experience. For many years my assignments took me into that part of Germany which was behind what was called the Iron Curtain. Under Communist control, those who lived in that area of Germany had lost nearly all of their freedoms. Activities of youth were restricted; all actions were monitored.
Shortly after I assumed my responsibilities for that area, I attended a most uplifting conference held in that part of Germany. Following the inspirational songs and the spoken word, I felt the impression to meet briefly outside of the old building with the precious teenage youth. They were relatively few in number but listened to every word I spoke. They had hungered for the word and encouragement of an Apostle of the Lord.
Prior to attending the conference, before leaving the United States, I felt the prompting to buy three cartons of chewing gum. I purchased three flavors: Doublemint, Spearmint, and Juicy Fruit. Now, as the gathering of the youth was concluded, I distributed carefully to each youth two sticks of gum—something they had never before tasted. They received the gift with joy.
The years went by. I returned to Dresden—the site of our earlier conference. Now we had chapels; now the people had freedom. They had a temple. Germany was no longer separated by political boundaries but had become one nation. The youth were now adults with children of their own.
Following a large and inspirational conference, a mother and her daughter sought me out to speak to me. The daughter, who was about your age and who spoke some English, said to me, “President Monson, do you remember long ago holding a brief gathering of youth following a district conference, where you gave to each boy and each girl two sticks of chewing gum?”
I responded, “Oh, yes, I surely do remember.”
She continued, “My mother was one to whom you gave that gift. She told me that she rationed in little pieces one stick of gum. She mentioned how sweet to the taste it was and so precious to her.” Then, under the approving smile of her dear mother, she handed to me a small box. As I opened the lid of the box, there I beheld the other stick of gum, still with its wrapper after nearly 20 years. And then she said, “My mother and I want you to have this,” she said.
The tears flowed; embraces followed.
The mother then spoke to me: “Before you came to our conference so many years ago, I had prayed to my Heavenly Father to know that He indeed cared about me. I saved that gift so that I might remember and teach my daughter that Heavenly Father does hear our prayers.”
I hold before you tonight that gift—even a symbol of faith and assurance of the heavenly help our Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, will provide you.

I am a space nut. I love the intricate formations of stars and planets. Last year, I entered a scholarship competition and won a week’s stay at a space academy in Huntsville, Alabama. I was thrilled! I would be part of a team of other young people from all over the country.
As I began making plans for the trip, a thought occurred to me: Why not try to plant some gospel seeds at the space academy? I had been taught that I could pray for missionary opportunities, and I was aching to share the gospel with others. So for days before my trip to Alabama, I prayed for “seed planting” opportunities. It was the first time I had ever asked for a missionary experience.
On the second day in Alabama I received the opportunity I had been praying for. I had set my scriptures on my bed, and one of my new friends read the title out loud as though it were a foreign language. I couldn’t believe it! My friend, Sophia, had never heard of a Mormon and didn’t know what LDS meant. I explained to her what the Book of Mormon is and what LDS stands for.
When it was time to climb into bed, we continued our conversation. The topic changed as four other girls in our room joined the discussion, and eventually we were discussing … can you guess? Boys. I casually said that I wasn’t going to date until I was 16.
As the week progressed, almost every night we’d discuss some of the Church’s standards and beliefs. We talked about language, fashion, boys, and a little about the temple, sealings, and baptisms for the dead. We talked about charity, the theory of evolution, and the big bang theory.
Now that I’m back from the space academy, I reflect on my time spent there and the friendships I developed. The most important things I learned at the space academy were not about science and space. I learned that missionary experiences are everywhere. If you open your heart and mind and listen to the Spirit, you can spread the gospel wherever you go.

On October 27, 2021, I fell on my morning walk and broke my shoulder. Three days after spending hours in the ER, my husband and I contracted COVID-19, and I became very ill and had to be hospitalized. There were serious complications that resulted in my body going into septic shock and renal failure.
After four months of ICU stays, intubation, surgeries, dialysis, and rehabilitation, I finally was able to come home.
One of the most spiritual events during this incredible journey was three days before I was first intubated. I could tell I was having trouble filling my lungs. Curiously, I got the idea to sing.
I now see that the Holy Ghost was teaching me, before I entered the deep pit of three months of health problems and hospital stays, to praise God in the hard thing. I had often marveled how Nephi was able to praise God while tied to the mast of a ship (see 1 Nephi 18:9–16) or how Joseph in Egypt could praise God for years as a slave or prisoner (see Genesis 39–41). I could understand being grateful for delivery from trials and lessons after the fact, but how do you praise God in the middle of the hard thing?
That night I found a recording of The Tabernacle Choir on YouTube, from when my husband was a member of the choir, and sang these words with them:
Come to us we pray,
Receive our love,
Behold our joy,
And bless our praising.1
I probably sang that song 15 times that night, one of the most sacred nights I’ve ever experienced. Looking back, I know the Lord was helping me build the ark for the coming flood (see Genesis 6–8) and teaching me a lesson I would need and use for eternity.
Elder D. Todd Christofferson of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles taught that the refining process—who we become in the trial—is definitely a blessing. But the greater blessing is better knowing our beloved Father, His Son, and the Holy Ghost. Elder Christofferson promised, “We can anticipate a growing trust and faith in the Father and the Son, an increasing sense of Their love, and the consistent comfort and guidance of the Holy Spirit.”2
All three of those promises were realized in this challenging time in my life:
I now trust Heavenly Father, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Ghost more than I did before these health challenges. Elder Christofferson counseled: “Allow Them over time to manifest Their fidelity to you. Come truly to know Them and truly to know yourself [see 1 Corinthians 13:12].”3
My prayers became constant, with no formal beginnings or endings—just an endless conversation with my beloved Father in Heaven.
My life was spared so I could witness that the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost are always with us. Their tutelage during this earthly experience is profoundly personal and intimate. They will leave nothing undone for our good. They were with me every single moment of this unusual trial of facing death, losing all my strength, and relearning every single thing my body once knew how to do effortlessly. My prayers became constant, with no formal beginnings or endings—just an endless conversation with my beloved Father in Heaven, who created me to have this experience so I could learn to trust Him and love Him better.
Depiction of Jesus healing a woman by Mason Coberly
It can be difficult to imagine that adversity, especially pain, is a manifestation of God’s love. But I was spared to witness that God loves us so much, He allows the conditions of the Fall, our own agency, and the agency of others to provide learning opportunities in a world of opposition. We could receive these valuable lessons in no other way.
The most loving instructions I received in the darkest days of complete helplessness were these three words: “Be here now.” I came to recognize that Father didn’t want me to dwell on the “what ifs” or “if onlys” of the past. Nor did He want me to become overwhelmed at the seemingly impossible milestones still ahead of me.
The most loving instructions I received in the darkest days of complete helplessness were these three words: “Be here now.”
The instruction to be here now taught me two valuable lessons: I learned to truly experience all the wretchedness of the experience so I could witness forever that I wasn’t in that place alone. I was succored and supported by Jesus Christ because of His atoning sacrifice.
Even more sacred to me, I learned that if I had wished away that sacred place of here and now, I would miss out on the opportunity He gave me to be here now with Him and to fully be there with the knowledge that in addition to atoning for my sins, His suffering also made it possible for Him to understand my pains and my sickness (see Alma 7:11–12).
Learning to be here now is what has taught me that He truly wants to always be here—with me. Because I sought Him in the wretchedness of that place, I found Him there.
Recognizing the consistent comfort and guidance of the Holy Ghost has always been one of the most tender evidences of God’s love for me. I’ve always felt profound gratitude for the personal guidance I receive from the Holy Ghost. Because of my illness, I had to relearn to do the most simple tasks, and going through that process meant learning to listen in new, important ways. The Holy Ghost helped me with everything from not eating too fast or taking too big a bite when I was relearning to eat to learning whether to push my limit or back off when relearning how to sit or stand up.
The Holy Ghost also taught me to focus on my caregivers rather than my own pain and discomfort. I was regularly prompted to say, “Tell me your story.” The Holy Ghost taught me of the heroism of these hardworking, overworked angels and instructed me to testify to them of God’s love for them and to acknowledge their nobility. Focusing on something besides my own miserable condition was important training to think of others before myself when my personal needs were so huge.
The Holy Ghost also taught me to focus on my caregivers rather than my own pain and discomfort.
God’s love is evident in the lessons learned in each of our personalized curriculums and His unfailing companionship through them.
The most important lesson I learned was to praise Him: to acknowledge unceasingly that He is good; that He has all knowledge, love, light, and power; and that His perfect plan has power to save His children. I rejoice in being a part of it.
Praise is more than gratitude. It implies trust, a sense of God’s love for us personally, and an acknowledgement of His consistent comfort and guidance. Praise saved me from despair.
Elder Christofferson concludes his talk: “In the end, it is the blessing of a close and abiding relationship with the Father and the Son that we seek. It makes all the difference and is everlastingly worth the cost.”4
Francis Webster, a survivor of the Martin handcart company, expressed it perfectly: “The price we paid to become acquainted with God was a privilege to pay.”5 I am a witness: it is a privilege indeed.
The image of praise in the hymn “Love Divine, All Loves Excelling” expresses my joy that God is my Father, that Jesus Christ is my Savior and Redeemer, and that the Holy Ghost is my teacher and testator—that these three are indeed my truest, most unfailing and faithful Friends.
Finish then, thy new creation; true and spotless let us be.
Let us see thy great salvation perfectly restored in thee.
Changed from glory into glory, till in heav’n we take our place,
Till we cast our crowns before thee, lost in wonder, love and praise.”6
This beautiful hymn is referencing Revelation 4:10–11:
“The [faithful] fall down before him that sat on the throne, and worship him that liveth for ever and ever, and cast their crowns before the throne, saying,
“Thou art worthy, O Lord, to receive glory and honour and power: for thou has created all things, and for thy pleasure they are and were created.”
We receive those crowns by virtue of the perfect obedience and generosity of Jesus Christ. He shared His earned inheritance with us, who could never earn it without Him. How fitting that we should cast those crowns at His feet, in eternal praise for His goodness and the goodness of our great Father, who would allow that perfect Son to suffer all our hard things with us so that He could share celestial glory with us.
I was spared to witness that I’ve learned these things by the power of the Holy Ghost. For this priceless knowledge, I praise the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost.
The author lives in Utah.

As a police officer many years ago, I was assigned at one time to investigate serious traffic accidents in the busy Suva area in Fiji. I learned from experience the benefit and value of a credible and competent witness.

They provide Direct Evidence that the other side finds hard or impossible to challenge. It can stands on its own to prove an alleged fact. Such is the testimony of a witness who says that she or he personally SAW or HEARD or DID something that is relevant or at issue during the trial. When you hear the term "pains-taking" in an investigation, it usually refers to the process of securing these kinds of evidence and testimonies. Then there is the Expert Witness. This is a witness who has knowledge not normally possessed by the average person concerning the topic that he or she is to testify about. For example, an expert who testifies or gives a professional opinion about something related to his or her area of expertise. If they are honest and credible, they can be a "game changer" to borrow a sports term, in a trial or hearing. These competent and expert witnesses are the "stars" because of the great influence they have in scoring legal points to their side.