Gospel Story Finder

Several members of the Snow family, including 17-year-old Lorenzo, clambered into the carriage and drove off toward the Johnson farm, four miles away. The year was 1831, and recently a new religious group known as Mormons had sprung up in the area.
Word had been circulated that the Mormon Prophet, Joseph Smith, was to speak at a meeting at the Johnson place and the Snows, curious perhaps, decided to attend.
The Prophet was standing in the doorway of the house, addressing the group. Lorenzo later recorded his impressions thus: “He was only 25 years of age and was not, at that time, what would be called a fluent speaker. His remarks were confined principally to his own experiences, especially the visitation of the angel, giving a strong and powerful testimony in regard to these marvelous manifestations.”
Lorenzo concluded that Joseph Smith had not been deceived. Either the Mormon leader had, indeed, talked with the Father and the Son or he was an outright fraud. The boy was not religiously inclined at the time, and did not bother to find which of the possibilities was true.

I learned the importance of focusing on people when I served as a stake president in France. At the beginning of my service, I had in mind some very ambitious goals for the stake: the creation of new wards, the building of new meetinghouses, and even the construction of a temple in our area. When I was released six years later, not one of these objectives had been achieved. This could have felt like a complete failure except that, during the course of those six years, my objectives had become quite different.
As I sat on the stand on the day of my release, I was overwhelmed by a profound sense of gratitude and accomplishment. I looked at the faces of the hundreds of members in attendance. I could recall a spiritual experience connected with each one of them.
There were those brothers and sisters who had entered the waters of baptism, those for whom I had signed their first recommends so they could receive the sacred ordinances of the temple, and those young people and couples I had set apart or released as full-time missionaries. There were many others to whom I had ministered as they were going through trials and adversity in their lives. I felt intense brotherly love for each of them. I had found pure joy in serving them and rejoiced in their increased loyalty to and faith in the Savior.

Tall pine trees flew past the car in a blur. Owen stared through the back window. If I were Robin Hood, this would be the perfect hideout forest, he thought. Mama drove while Uncle Eric helped with directions. They were going to a big family picnic at his great-uncle’s house.
Owen rolled down his window. The scent of pine filled his nose. Yup, the perfect Robin Hood forest.
“This place is so cool!” Owen said. “Let’s call it Adventure Forest!”
Uncle Eric smiled. “I think you’ll like it. There’s a stream and plenty of woods for you and your cousins to explore.”
“Is there an evil sheriff waiting in the woods?”
Uncle Eric laughed. “I’m not sure. Let me know if you find one, though.”
The car stopped a little later, and everyone climbed out. Owen was itching to start exploring. He saw a small hill up ahead.
“Can I go check out what’s over that hill?”
Mama nodded. “Just stay close enough that you can hear me.”
Another car pulled up. Owen grinned as his cousin James hopped out. “James! Wanna see what’s over that hill?”
“Can we? Please?” James asked his parents. Soon Owen and James took off running. In no time they reached the hilltop.
“Let’s race down,” James said.
As they reached the bottom, Owen saw a pile of soft dirt at the bottom. He jumped right in, pretending he was Robin Hood leaping into a wagon full of bad guys.
Ouch! The tops of his feet felt like they were on fire! He jumped out, yelling in pain.
Suddenly Mama appeared. She grabbed Owen and ran for the nearby stream. Mama plunged his feet into the cold water, sandals and all.
“What happened?” Owen cried. “All I did was jump in some dirt!”
“That wasn’t dirt,” Mama said. “It was hot ashes. Someone must have had a campfire last night and not put it out completely.”
After Owen soaked his feet for a while, Mama carried him in to his uncle’s house.
They found his cousin, who was a children’s doctor. Doctor Mark put medicine on the burns and wrapped them. Then he and Uncle Eric gave Owen a priesthood blessing.
Not much of a Robin Hood adventure after all, Owen thought as they drove home.
That night at bedtime, Mama said, “Remember that Heavenly Father loves you.”
Owen sat up in bed. “I know He does. But why did He let me burn my feet?”
Mama sat next to him. “Heavenly Father doesn’t always stop bad things from happening, but He helps us get through them. For example, I’m grateful I saw you from the hilltop right when you jumped into those ashes.”
She ran a hand through Owen’s hair. “Plus, Heavenly Father helped me know immediately that I should put your feet in the stream.”
Mama and Owen talked about more things to be grateful for—like the priesthood blessing he got. Then Owen prayed. As he started listing what he was thankful for, he was surprised at how many things came to mind. Owen felt warm and happy. He knew Heavenly Father was listening.
Owen hugged his mom. “I’m glad Heavenly Father loves me.”

“What can I do to be more perfect?” was the question many people asked themselves that day. And for many the answer was found in St. Matthew 25:40. “Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.” [Matt. 25:40]
James was one of those. He enjoys helping people, but sometimes they need your help at the most inopportune times. “It seems like your mother always wants you to do something when your favorite show is on television or when you are in the most exciting part of reading a book. Why don’t they ever ask you to take out the garbage when you are studying?”
His goal for Thursday was to do what he was asked, when he was asked to do it, and most importantly, to do it cheerfully. “It was a lot of work to remember that. Sometimes I had to stop and remind myself to do it now. But by the end of the day, I had conditioned myself to respond immediately. It just gave me a good feeling,” he concluded.

A few summers ago, Rebekah and her dad undertook their biggest art project ever. Rebekah’s mom had always wanted a picture of the Salt Lake Temple in their home. That temple is especially important to Rebekah’s family because that is where her parents were married. Rebekah and her dad decided that they could design a tile mosaic of the temple that would be even more special because they made it themselves.
At first, the project seemed impossible. Rebekah wondered how it could be done. What materials could she use? But as they made sketches and started to gather materials, the project became very exciting to her. She and her dad visited many tile stores, going through piles of cast-off tiles and samples to find pieces with just the right colors and textures. They cut pieces off an old red brick to make the flower bed wall in the foreground, and Rebekah searched through small stones she had polished to find pieces for the angel Moroni on the top of the temple.
The original plan was to make the temple itself out of a piece of granite they had. This granite came from the same quarry where the early Saints got the rock for the Salt Lake Temple. But the granite was too coarse. Luckily, one of the ceramic tiles they had found was colored and textured to look like granite. They still used some of the granite from the temple quarry—it is included in the stones in the mosaic’s foreground.
The project was a lot of work and took a lot of time. They worked for two months, breaking tiles with a hammer and fitting the pieces together. When they needed straight cuts or defined shapes, they used a tile saw. Rebekah got very good at cutting tiles to the shapes she needed. Finally, after all of the tile pieces were in place, they applied the grout and finished the sides of the mosaic with some special granite paint.
Now this beautiful mosaic is hanging in the Nielsen home. It is a good reminder of how important the temple is. Rebekah especially likes the way the mountains turned out. Her dad pointed out verses in the Bible that show how even the mountains can help us think of the temple:
“And it shall come to pass in the last days, that the mountain of the Lord’s house shall be established in the top of the mountains, and shall be exalted above the hills; and all nations shall flow unto it.
“And many people shall go and say, Come ye, and let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, to the house of the God of Jacob; and he will teach us of his ways, and we will walk in his paths” (Isa. 2:2–3).
The mountains also help Rebekah remember the pioneers who came to the Salt Lake Valley with Brigham Young and built the Salt Lake Temple.
Rebekah loves thinking about the temple. She knows it’s a wonderful place where people can feel the Holy Spirit. She wants to be good and make good choices so that she can go inside the temple someday. Now the beautiful temple mosaic belongs to the Nielsen family, but Rebekah’s dad has promised her that one day it will be hers to hang in her own home—when she gets married in one of Heavenly Father’s temples.

When my oldest son was little, we liked making cookies together. He loved watching the cookies as they baked in the oven. I had warned him not to get too close. But he got so curious that he put his hands and face on the glass door and got hurt. He didn’t get burned, but it was hot! He started crying and ran straight into my arms.
Because I love my son, I had given him a warning to keep him safe. God gives us commandments because He wants to keep us safe. Commandments really are like a loving letter from God!

Slug ran along the dusty road, then turned in at Marshall’s yard. Marshall waited on the porch with his chin in his hands. When Slug saw him, he slowed, then stopped. “What’s the matter, Marsh?” he asked.
“I changed my mind about helping you with your grandma’s cellar.”
Slug’s forehead creased. “Come on, Marsh! Two of us will get done in no time! You want to earn some money, don’t you?”
“Yeah, but there might be snakes in there.”
Slug blinked. “My dad and brother were out there this weekend, and they didn’t see any.”
Marshall shook his head firmly, then got up and went inside. Slug rammed his hands into his back pockets and turned away. He kicked at a stone and thought of the time when he and Marshall had seen a snake at Hadley’s landfill. He remembered how he’d felt as it slithered away through the tall weeds.
Now he glanced toward the fields and imagined one coiled beside every rock. They could be anywhere, he thought fearfully. You never know till you see them! Slug zigged across the dusty road and kicked at a clump of weeds. “Too late now,” he grumbled. “I promised Granny!”
“Hey, Slug!” Willow called from the middle of the field. “Where are you going?”
Slug kept walking. “To my granny’s old house!”
Her hair flowing, Willow ran through the tall grass. “What for?” she asked, falling into step beside him.
“Mind your own business!”
“I don’t have any,” she said with a shrug.
Slug kept walking, and Willow kept pace. Girls! he thought irritably.
When they reached Slug’s grandmother’s property, they slipped easily through the space left by two missing pickets in the fence. As he stomped across the uncut grass toward the slanted outside cellar doors, Slug scanned the weeds. No snakes yet, he thought. He lifted one cellar door and let it fall open. Cautiously he peered inside.
Willow leaned over his shoulder. “What are you looking for?”
“Nothing.” Slug lifted back the other door. “I have to clean Granny’s cellar and hose it down, that’s all. Why don’t you get out of here?” he added as he craned his neck to check every corner of the sloping steps.
Willow flipped her hair over her shoulders. “I can help you,” she said, and she flitted fearlessly down the steps.
“Willow?” Slug called apprehensively.
Willow pushed open the door at the bottom, then turned. “What?”
“Nothing,” Slug mumbled, following reluctantly. “Just watch out!”
Willow wiggled through the stacks of boxes toward the other side of the damp, musty cellar. Quickly she climbed onto an old wooden workbench.
“What are you doing?” Slug squawked.
“Letting some air in!” Willow said, opening a window. “What’s the matter with you?”
Slug kicked at a stack of boxes. “I don’t know why you’re hanging around! You probably can’t even lift anything heavy!”
“Then you lift,” Willow said as a warm breeze swept through the muggy cellar, “and I’ll sweep.” She grabbed a broom. “Well … get lifting!”
Slug gave her a look, then cautiously lifted a box. With a fearful glance at where the box had been, he started up the steps. When he had placed the box by the road, he went back to the cellar steps and looked around. “That Marshall’s dumb!” he mumbled disgustedly. He descended the steps slowly, peering into every corner again. But there was Willow, pushing boxes across the floor toward the door. “What are you doing?” he snapped. “There could be snakes down here!”
Willow frowned. “Slug, stop trying to scare me! There aren’t any poisonous snakes around here. Besides, my dad says that snakes are as afraid of us as we are of them, so what’s the big deal?” Shaking her head, she went back to work.
Slug scowled at her, then grabbed another box and climbed the sun-splashed steps again. When he came back, Willow was singing. Slug stacked two bundles of tied newspapers and lifted them. Willow kept singing but looked at him and grinned. After he put the newspapers with the other trash, he stopped and glanced around at the bright yellow day. The trees had gobs of shade beneath their shiny green leaves, and the grass waved in gentle patterns. He wiped his arm across his chin and smiled. It’s a nice day, he decided.
Finally all the trash was outside, and Willow was sweeping a pile of dirt into a dustpan. “Looks better,” she said, brushing back her hair.
Slug nodded and uncoiled the hose. “Sure does.”
“Is your grandmother going to sell this old place?”
Slug reached for a bucket. “People from upstate want to see it.”
Willow aimed the broom at the rafters and swatted at cobwebs.
When the sun was high and grasshoppers were jumping, Slug wearily closed the cellar doors. “Thanks, Willow,” he said as they started across the overgrown yard.
Willow shrugged. “That’s OK.”
Slug slipped through the opening in the fence. “Granny’s paying me—I’ll split it with you.”
Willow shook her head. “I didn’t help for money.”
“Then why did you?”
“Something to do.”
“Yeah, but there could have been snakes down there!” Slug insisted.
Willow chuckled. “Oh, maybe. But there weren’t.”
“Yeah,” Slug admitted. “Even so, you kind of helped me forget about them.”
Willow pulled a long weed from beside the road and swatted at her leg with it as they walked. “Dad says that half of what we’re afraid of we make up. The other half hardly ever happens.”
Slug watched their shadows as they walked. Funny, he thought, how a friend can hurt you—or help you. He was glad that Willow had helped. “I don’t want you to argue with me, Willow Thompson!” he blurted out. “When I get paid, you get half!”
With that, Slug ran down the wooded path toward the stream. Willow watched him go and smiled, then continued toward home.

For over a year I tried to memorize the Articles of Faith, but I was having a hard time because I’m deaf. I worked on it every Sunday, but I just couldn’t do it. I wanted to give up many times, but I kept on trying.
I decided I needed help, so I went into my room and knelt down and prayed to Heavenly Father. When I got up, I started trying to memorize the Articles of Faith again, and it was so much easier. I finished all 13. My mom was amazed at how well I had memorized them. I know now that whenever I need help I can pray to my Heavenly Father, and He will help me.
Sam McGrath, age 9Mesa, Arizona

Twelve-year-old William Moroni Palmer leaned against his mother’s arm. “Read the story about David and Goliath,” he said.
“I read that one to you yesterday.”
“Then how about Daniel and the lions?”
“You already know that by heart.”
“I know. But David and Daniel were so brave. I wish I was as brave as they were.”
“They were more than brave,” his mother said. “They also had great faith in the Lord. They knew He would help them.” She put her arm around her son. “Besides, you are as brave as they were. Every day you face a world of darkness, and every day you face it with a smile.”
William reached for the Bible his mother held, and she put it into his hand. He gently caressed the cover. “Oh, I wish I could read it!”
His mother tousled his hair. “You can read it in your mind,” she said, her voice growing firm. “Daniel 6:23.” [Dan. 6:23]
William sat up tall. “‘Then was the king exceeding glad for him, and commanded that they should take Daniel up out of the den. So Daniel was taken up out of the den, and no manner of hurt was found upon him, because he believed in his God.’”
“Very good,” his mother said. “Because you have memorized it, you can read it any time you’d like.”
Just then his father stepped into the room. “It’s official,” he reported. “Elder Heber C. Kimball is coming to the conference your mother and I will be attending in Ogden.”
“He’s in the First Presidency now!” His mother jumped to her feet and ran to the front door. “Hyrum,” she called to William’s brother, “come here, please. I have something wonderful to tell you!”
For the next several hours, William’s parents, his married brother and sister, and even nine-year-old Hyrum excitedly talked about the upcoming conference.
William only listened. Ever since he had learned that President Kimball was coming, a great shivery feeling had filled his heart. Did he truly have enough courage—and enough faith—to ask what he so desperately wanted to ask?
After a while, his mother returned to his side. “What is it, Son?” she asked. “Aren’t you excited too?”
William nodded. “Yes, but …” He swallowed hard. “Mother, would you ask President Kimball to come to our place after the conference and bless me so that I can see?”
His mother pulled him into her arms. “Dear William, do you believe that you can be healed?” she asked.
William thought of Daniel climbing out of the lions’ den. He pictured David swinging his slingshot above his head. “I know I can, Mama, if he will come and if the Lord wills it.”
“Then I will bring him. He gave me a blessing to heal me when I was dying in Nauvoo, and he promised that he’d shake hands with me in the west, so I’m sure that he will come.”
When conference day arrived that day in 1858, William’s father gathered his family for prayer. He prayed that he and his wife would have a safe journey, that all would be well at home, and that William would receive his sight, if it was God’s will. Then the boys’ parents left for the conference.
While they were gone, William spent most of his time in his parents’ room, praying. “Please, Heavenly Father,” he pleaded, “let President Kimball come.”
Finally, just as the warm afternoon air was beginning to cool, William heard the clickety-jingle of the family surrey. He ran to the front door and listened harder. The Apostle’s voice!
“Is this the boy you told me of?” President Kimball asked as he stepped through the door.
“It is,” his mother said. “But would you like to eat with us first?”
“This must come first. He has waited long enough.”
William’s father placed a chair in the middle of the room for William to sit on. Then he and President Kimball gave William a blessing.
“Open your eyes, Brother William,” President Kimball said, “and you shall see.”
William’s eyes flew open. He sat stunned for a moment, then jumped from his chair and ran out the door. “Oh! I can see! I can see! Oh, Mama, I can see!” Then he fell to the ground and hugged it.
How grateful he was that God had not only restored his sight but had also taught him that if he had faith in Him, all things were possible.

As two missionary sisters currently serving in the England Bristol Mission, we have really appreciated the New Era during the past week. One of us has had a contagious throat infection, so we weren’t allowed to contact people. The doctor said, “Do not spread the gospel or your germs!” Hence we’ve had plenty of time to study. Although none of the New Eras in our flat are too up to date, the oldies gave us plenty of “food for thought.” Keep up the good articles!
Sisters Reid and HornbyEngland Bristol Mission

Elder John Taylor was a man who stood up for his beliefs. Many people called him “Defender of the Faith.” One example of his courage happened when he went to Columbus, Ohio, to speak at a Church conference.
Church member 1: Elder Taylor, many people from the town will be there. Many of them wish to tar and feather you tonight.
Church member 2: Our advice is to not go and so avoid this danger altogether.
John: I did not come to Ohio to be scared off. I will go and speak. If you do not want to come with me, I will go alone.
When Elder Taylor arrived, he started by telling the congregation that he was from Canada—a country still ruled by a monarch.
John: Gentlemen, I now stand among men whose fathers fought for and won freedom, the greatest blessing ever given to the human family.
John: I have been informed that you plan to tar and feather me for my religious opinions. Is this what you have inherited from your fathers? If so, you now have a victim!
Elder Taylor then opened his vest.
John: Gentlemen, come on with your tar and feathers. Your victim is ready!
No one moved. No one spoke. No one came forward. After a pause, he spoke for three hours!
After the conference, community leaders came up to speak with him.
Leaders: Mr. Taylor, we apologize for any bad intentions of some of the community members.

My wife had a birthday a few months ago. Being a dutiful husband, I determined we should go out to a movie together. We scanned the movie advertisements in the newspaper to find one that had the proper rating we thought we could enjoy watching. We picked out one with a PG rating, only to find after just a few minutes in the movie, the language was such that we could not tolerate it. I was embarrassed to come out and see the crowd standing in line. I didn’t want them to observe me coming out of a movie that had such vulgar language.

I had a particular experience in my life that showed me how using the wrong word can shock those who do not expect such an utterance to come from you. I was in boot camp in the Marine Corps during World War II. Of course, the language among my fellow Marines was not of the caliber that you would want to repeat. Being a recently returned missionary, I determined I should keep my language above the level which they were using. I endeavored consistently to keep from saying even the simplest and most common of swear words.

One day we were on the rifle range firing for our final qualification scores. I had done well in the 100-, 200-, and 300-yard positions. Now we were back at the 500-yard position. All I needed was a reasonable score—just hitting the target without even having to hit the bull’s-eye, and I would make Expert Rifleman. We had been charged up with the desire to excel and be the top platoon in firing for qualifications. I tensed up at the 500-yard standing position, and on my first shot threw my shoulder into the rifle. Of course, the flag waved—I had missed the target. And likewise, I missed the opportunity of being named an Expert Rifleman.

Out of my mouth came a little four-letter word that I had determined never to use. Much to my shock and chagrin, suddenly the whole range stopped firing and everyone turned and looked at me with their mouths open. Any other Marine firing from that position that day could have used the word I used without anyone paying attention. Because I had determined that I would carry the standards of the mission field into the Marine Corps, everyone was shocked when I forgot myself.

Lynda tried to incorporate the values of the people she admired into her new life in creative ways. Preserving food became for her a symbol of self-sufficiency, so when she couldn’t get fresh fruits and vegetables in the city, she made a list of all the things she remembered her mother and grandmothers putting into bottles and made quilt blocks representing many of those things. As she stitched, Lynda created a tribute to her pioneer ancestors and a family history for her children to enjoy. She also taught her family independence, hard work, self-reliance, the law of the harvest, and self-confidence in a new environment.

And the harvest has come from the whisperings and calming influence of the Holy Ghost, which helped the family avert tragedy late one night when they thought their home was being burglarized. Daniel woke up when he heard a sound and prepared to defend the home, but the supposed intruder turned out to be a neighbor who had come looking for help after his car had broken down.
“I realized that the Spirit had calmed me down so that we could resolve the situation by not overreacting,” Daniel says. “Afterward we prayed and thanked Heavenly Father that nothing bad had happened.”

When I was serving as a bishop, I worked with brother Utibe Effiong Akpan who left school early without a proper education, qualifications, or marketable skills. He was working in lots of different odd jobs, for long hours and low wages when the missionaries found him and introduced him to the restored gospel. I met with Effiong a few times during missionary discussions; his life was full of challenges, questionable friends, and poor choices.
After several weeks of missionary discussions, Effiong decided to make the necessary changes and become baptized. He quickly learned about the prophet’s counsel to get an education, to gain marketable skills and to become self-reliant. Shortly after joining the Church, he enrolled in one of the self-reliance programs. He later qualified for a PEF loan to learn a trade. Effiong worked at night as a security guard, and by day he studied welding.
Several months later, Effiong graduated as a fully qualified argon welder. However, his journey towards self-reliance was not over and far from easy. He faced many months of challenges as he tried to find work on building sites around the city. Sometimes they didn’t pay him, sometimes it was hard to find good employment and he often had to walk many miles in the hot sun from building site to building site, but Effiong continued, trusting in the Lord and the promises made by living prophets. Finally, his patience, faith and hard work paid off and he was able to secure good welding contracts on building sites.
As Effiong continued to study the words of the prophets and to learn about the plan of salvation, he realized the importance of an eternal family. He found one of our Heavenly Father’s lovely daughters in our ward and together they were sealed in the Aba Nigeria Temple. Effiong continued working for a while in Lagos but life got harder and harder as financial problems hit the city and so he relocated to his home state. He now works in the education department of the local government as an instructor. Today, Effiong and his wife, Praise Chukwewike Effiong, are living happily with their three children and raising them “in the nurture and admonition of the Lord” (see Ephesians 6:4).
When I was their bishop, I witnessed the challenges that they faced in the early days of their marriage, life was not easy. However, they have trusted the Lord through the good and the bad times and are both fully active and serving in their local ward.
When we heed the counsel and apply the teachings of prophets and apostles, our testimony is strengthened, and we are blessed both temporally and spiritually. As Paul taught the Philippian Saints, trusting in the Lord brings “the peace of God, which passeth all understanding” (Philippians 4:7). The temporal blessings do not always come immediately, but as Effiong and his wife learned, if we follow the teachings of the Lord’s prophets, even when we do not comprehend, all will come right in the end. Sometimes our journey requires faith, patience, and hope; often we need to repent, change our lives, and become a new and better person through the grace of Jesus Christ. I am grateful to Jesus Christ for His atoning sacrifice and I love Him very much.

President Young had said, “If the people of the United States will let us alone for ten years we will ask no odds of them.”

Eight years to the day after the 1849 celebration, the Saints were in Big Cottonwood Canyon to celebrate another 24th of July. Four horsemen rode in to report that an army 2,500 soldiers strong was on the plains. The army of the United States, commanded by Colonel Albert Sidney Johnston, was ordered by President James Buchanan to crush a nonexistent Mormon rebellion.

The Saints broke camp and headed for home to prepare their defenses. Rather than flee, this time President Young declared, “We have transgressed no law, and we have no occasion to do so, neither do we intend to; but as for any nation’s coming to destroy this people, God Almighty being my helper, they cannot come here.”

Neither mobbings nor the army could turn the Saints aside from what they knew to be true. A settlement was negotiated, and the Utah War (later called Buchanan’s Blunder) was over.

He is a prophet who quietly builds up, delegates, and expects commitments that are unwavering. I recall telephoning President Benson while away on a stake assignment. A major situation and problem was evident. It was serious enough that I felt the need for his wise counsel and advice. When I finished explaining the facts and developments to him, he said in reassuring mildness and trust, “Do what needs to be done. You have my complete confidence and support.”

One other account from those early, faithful builders of modern Zion. John R. Moyle lived in Alpine, Utah, about 22 miles as the crow flies to the Salt Lake Temple, where he was the chief superintendent of masonry during its construction. To make certain he was always at work by 8:00, Brother Moyle would start walking about 2:00 a.m. on Monday mornings. He would finish his work week at 5:00 p.m. on Friday and then start the walk home, arriving there shortly before midnight. Each week he would repeat that schedule for the entire time he served on the construction of the temple.
Once when he was home on the weekend, one of his cows bolted during milking and kicked Brother Moyle in the leg, shattering the bone just below the knee. With no better medical help than they had in such rural circumstances, his family and friends took a door off the hinges and strapped him onto that makeshift operating table. They then took the bucksaw they had been using to cut branches from a nearby tree and amputated his leg just a few inches below the knee. When against all medical likelihood the leg finally started to heal, Brother Moyle took a piece of wood and carved an artificial leg. First he walked in the house. Then he walked around the yard. Finally he ventured out about his property. When he felt he could stand the pain, he strapped on his leg, walked the 22 miles to the Salt Lake Temple, climbed the scaffolding, and with a chisel in his hand hammered out the declaration “Holiness to the Lord.”

Thinking back to his mission experience, Peter can now see his Heavenly Father’s guidance and love. “I didn’t want to go at first,” explains Peter. “I had passed all my catering exams with distinctions, had an excellent job with good prospects, and was worried because the modern employment situation indicated I’d have nothing on return.

“But I had this niggling feeling that something special was expected of me. I took the problem to my Heavenly Father in prayer. It was two weeks before any answer came. Then one day in the kitchens I had the distinct mental message that I should go on a mission. I questioned this feeling three times. On the third occasion I actually heard a voice telling me if I did my part as a missionary, then I had a promise that a job would be mine when I came back. I would not lose out.”

That is exactly what happened. Peter says, “The very day I arrived home I received a call from Michelle’s, the top French restaurant in Birmingham. They wanted me to be Second Chef.”

Relying on home teachers. When Brother Mark and his sons were called to home teach our family, he expressed his desire to serve my family. Over time I came to understand the depth of his commitment. He checked on us often and asked about our week. He made friends with each of the children and remembered their birthdays. He has given them priesthood blessings before each school year begins. He counsels with me about the lessons he brings each month, then invites us to kneel in prayer with him and his sons before they leave. I have been grateful for these faithful home teachers who have provided priesthood support for my family.
At times I would begin to panic and think I had to move out of our home that seemed so costly to keep up even though my children and I, with priesthood counsel, had determined it would be in our best interest to stay in our home and continue to live among friends and our ward family. At such times, my home teacher would remind me of the reasons we chose to stay; then at least once a year he would arrange for some of the brethren to come by the house to make needed repairs, clean the yard, fix sprinklers, paint, and help us care for our home.