Gospel Story Finder

The only construction project Kalene Rice, 14, had ever been involved with was when she helped her father build a birdhouse. Cassie Rudy, 17, also couldn’t remember even holding a hammer. “I might have used one once to hammer a nail in the wall to hang a picture, but I’m not sure,” she says.
If Cassie wasn’t sure then, she is now. She joined Kalene and about 180 other young people from the Frederick Maryland Stake in Chestertown, Maryland, to build two houses in two days. Cassie has the callouses on her hands to prove it.
“This whole project depended on our attitude,” said Cassie. “We could have sat here the whole time and not worked. But that wouldn’t have been any fun. It’s a really good feeling to know we can do things like this.” Adds 14-year-old April Hough, “This has taken more time and more work, but it has been so useful because we’re helping someone who is less fortunate.”

Note: The following youth from Paradise, California, USA, reflect on the meaning of Christmas after the most destructive wildfire in California’s history burned down their community.
“After the fire I realized that the most important things to have are your family and friends. So although we didn’t get many gifts, it was so really nice to just be surrounded by family. It was still a happy time for us, even though it wasn’t like our normal Christmas.”
Rachel W.
“I got to help unload and organize several truckloads of donated toys. Then we opened the doors and let everyone in. It was really fun to watch all the kids. Their eyes would light up. They were so excited! It made me happy to see them so happy and peaceful after living through something so awful.”
Audrey V.
“It was great to see everyone kind of get thrown together and depend on each other socially. … I learned that material things don’t matter as much. Service, family, and time spent together matters a lot more. Life is valuable. Things can always change for the worse, so we need to try to enjoy the positive times while they’re around. We’re the ones that make those positive times!”
Billy A.

“I believe my first experience in having the courage of my convictions took place when I served in the United States Navy near the end of World War II. …
“I shall ever remember when Sunday rolled around after the first week [of boot camp]. We received welcome news from the chief petty officer. Standing at attention on the drill ground in a brisk California breeze, we heard his command: ‘Today everybody goes to church—everybody, that is, except for me. I am going to relax!’ Then he shouted, ‘All of you Catholics, you meet in Camp Decatur—and don’t come back until three o’clock. Forward, march!’ A rather sizeable contingent moved out. Then he barked out his next command: ‘Those of you who are Jewish, you meet in Camp Henry—and don’t come back until three o’clock. Forward, march!’ A somewhat smaller contingent marched out. Then he said, ‘The rest of you Protestants, you meet in the theaters at Camp Farragut—and don’t come back until three o’clock. Forward, march!’
“Instantly there flashed through my mind the thought, ‘Monson, you are not a Catholic; you are not a Jew; you are not a Protestant. You are a Mormon, so you just stand here!’ I can assure you that I felt completely alone. Courageous and determined, yes—but alone.
“And then I heard the sweetest words I ever heard that chief petty officer utter. He looked in my direction and asked, ‘And just what do you guys call yourselves?’ Until that very moment I had not realized that anyone was standing beside me or behind me on the drill ground. Almost in unison, each of us replied, ‘Mormons!’ It is difficult to describe the joy that filled my heart as I turned around and saw a handful of other sailors.
“The chief petty officer scratched his head in an expression of puzzlement but finally said, ‘Well, you guys go find somewhere to meet. And don’t come back until three o’clock. Forward, march!’ …
“Although the experience turned out differently from what I had expected, I had been willing to stand alone, had such been necessary.
“Since that day, there have been times when there was no one standing behind me and so I did stand alone. How grateful I am that I made the decision long ago to remain strong and true, always prepared and ready to defend my religion.”

This training has paid off. The Tse sisters, Ling-ling, 20, Wai-wai, 19, Mei-mei, 15, and Bing-bing, 14, know why members are referred to as “active.” Within two days of their baptism, the younger three sisters all had at least one position in the Lai Chi Kok Branch. (Ling had joined the Church when eight.) Even before they were members, they had “unofficial” responsibilities in the branch. Today Ling teaches the Gospel Essentials class for investigators and serves as a district missionary working with the full-time missionaries. Wai writes for the mission newsletter and fellowships inactive members. Bing is the Merry Miss teacher in Primary. And Mei is the Junior Sunday School coordinator. Her hardest job, she says, is convincing the children that they really can manage a short talk assignment.
Ling was the first of the sisters to join the Church. Their uncle is a member and would take her to Church when she was a child. Shortly after she was baptized at age eight, her mother forbade her to attend her meetings. Several years passed before she was allowed to return. By then she was 14, and the missionaries had retaught her the discussions. Her first Church responsibility was taking care of the bulletin board. It was through Ling that her three sisters became interested in the Church. Their parents and two younger brothers are still nonmembers, and the sisters say their greatest desire is to see their entire family active in the gospel.

The power of that individual covenant was impressed upon my heart three weeks ago as I attended a baptismal service. There before me were eight beautiful children sitting with reverent anticipation that finally their special day had arrived. But as I looked into their bright faces, I did not see just a group of children. Instead I saw them as I think the Lord would—individually. I saw Emma and Sophia and Ian and Logan and Aden and William and Sophie and Micah. Each baptismal covenant is made one by one. Each dressed in white, they were there—ready and willing with all their eight-year-old hearts to make their first covenant with God.
Think back and picture your own baptismal day. Whether you can remember many details or just a few, try to feel now the significance of the covenant you individually made. Having been called by your own name, you were immersed in water and came forth as God’s daughter—a covenant daughter, one willing to be called by the name of His Son and promising to follow Him and keep His commandments.
Covenants with God help us to know who we really are. They connect us to Him in a personal way through which we come to feel our value in His sight and our place in His kingdom. In a way we can’t fully comprehend, we are known and loved individually by Him. Think of it—each of us holds such a place in His heart. His desire is that we will choose the path that will bring us home to Him.
As essential and significant as the covenant of baptism is, it is only the beginning—the gate that puts us on the path to eternal life. Ahead on our journey are temple covenants to be made and priesthood ordinances to receive. As Elder David A. Bednar reminds us, “As we stand in the waters of baptism, we look to the temple.”
It is not only in making covenants but also in faithfully keeping these covenants that we are prepared to receive eternal life. That is our hope, our goal, and our joy.
I was an eyewitness to the power of covenants as I watched my righteous parents, who loved and lived the gospel. In my sweet mother I was privileged to see clearly the daily decisions of a covenant daughter of God. Even when she was a girl, her choices reflected her priorities and identified her as a true disciple of Jesus Christ. I have seen the peace, the power, and the protection that came into her life as she made and kept sacred covenants on her journey. Her life on this earth reflected her love for the Savior and her desire to follow Him. Oh, how I want to follow her example.
My parents’ lives together began in an unusual way. It was 1936. They were dating seriously and were planning to marry, when my dad received a letter inviting him to serve as a full-time missionary in South Africa. The letter said that if he was worthy and willing to serve, he was to contact his bishop. You can quickly see that the process of being called as a missionary was very different in those days! Dad showed the letter to his sweetheart, Helen, and they determined without question he would serve.
For two weeks before he left, Mom met Dad each day for a picnic lunch in Memory Grove near downtown Salt Lake City. During one of their lunches, having sought direction through fasting and prayer, Mother told her dear Claron that if he still wanted to, she would marry him before he left. In the early days of the Church, men were sometimes called to missionary service and left wives and families at home. So it was with my mother and dad. With the approval of his priesthood leaders, they decided to be married before he departed for his mission.
In the Salt Lake Temple, Mother received her endowment, and then they were married for time and all eternity by President David O. McKay. Theirs was a humble beginning. There were no photographs, no beautiful wedding dress, no flowers, and no reception to celebrate the occasion. Their clear focus was on the temple and their covenants. For them, the covenants were everything. After only six days of marriage and with a tearful good-bye, my dad left for South Africa.
But their marriage was more than just the deep love they had for each other. They also had a love of the Lord and a desire to serve Him. The sacred temple covenants they had made gave them strength and power to carry them through the two years of separation. They had an eternal perspective of life’s purpose and of promised blessings that come to those who are faithful to their covenants. All these blessings transcended their short-term sacrifice and separation.
While it certainly wasn’t an easy way to begin married life, it proved to be an ideal way to lay a foundation for an eternal family. As children came along, we knew what mattered most to our parents. It was their love for the Lord and their unwavering commitment to keeping the covenants they had made. Though my parents have both passed away, their pattern of righteousness is blessing our family still.
The example of their lives is reflected in the words of Sister Linda K. Burton: “The best way to strengthen a home, current or future, is to keep covenants.”
Their season of hardship and trial was not over. Three years after Dad returned from his mission, World War II was raging, and like so many others, he enlisted in the military. He was away from home for another four years as he served in the navy aboard battleships in the Pacific.
It was a difficult time for my parents to be separated again. But for my mother, those days of loneliness, worry, and uncertainty were also marked by whisperings of the Spirit that spoke of eternal promises, of comfort and peace amid the storm.
Despite her challenges, my mother lived a rich life, full of happiness, joy, love, and service. Her love of the Savior was reflected in the way she lived her life. She had a remarkable connection to heaven and a gift and capacity to love and bless everyone around her. Her faith in God and hope in His promises are reflected in President Thomas S. Monson’s words about the temple when he said, “No sacrifice is too great, no price too heavy, no struggle too difficult in order to receive those blessings.”
In all the seasons of her life, Mother was strengthened and blessed by her love of the Lord and by the covenants she faithfully made and kept.
There is no doubt the details of your story will be different than hers. But principles from her life apply to all of us. When daughters of God focus on the temple and on their sacred covenants, God is able to send blessings in personal and powerful ways. Like my mother’s example to me, your choice to believe and keep covenants will leave a rich legacy of faith for those who follow you. So, dear sisters, how can we access the power and blessings of temple covenants? What can we do now to prepare for those blessings?
As I have traveled, I have come to know there are sisters of all ages, in all circumstances, whose lives provide answers to these questions.
I met Mary shortly after her eighth birthday. Like so many others, she is excited about doing family history and has contributed over 1,000 names for temple work. Mary is preparing herself now for the blessing of entering the temple when she turns 12.
Brianna is 13 and loves doing family history and temple work. She has accepted Elder Neil L. Andersen’s temple challenge. She has prepared hundreds of names for temple work and, along with herself, has included her family and friends in performing the baptisms. In this sacred work, Brianna’s heart is turning not only to her earthly fathers but to her Heavenly Father as well.
Although Anfissa is a busy young adult who is working and going to graduate school, she still makes time to attend the temple each week. She seeks revelation and finds peace as she serves in the house of the Lord.
Katya, a dear sister in Ukraine, has a deep love for the temple. Before the temple in Kyiv was built, she and others in her branch sacrificed to travel 36 hours on a bus to attend the temple once a year in Germany. These devoted Saints prayed, studied scriptures, sang hymns, and discussed the gospel as they traveled. Katya told me, “When we finally arrived at the temple, we were prepared to receive what the Lord had to give us.”
If we are to receive all the blessings God so generously offers, our earthly path must lead to the temple. Temples are an expression of God’s love. He invites us all to come, learn of Him, feel His love, and receive the priesthood ordinances necessary for eternal life with Him. Each covenant is made one by one. Every mighty change of heart matters to the Lord. And yours will make all the difference to you. For as we go to His holy house, we can be “armed with [His] power, … [His] name … upon [us], … [His] glory … round about [us], and [His] angels have charge over [us].”

Some years ago our young family lived in a South American country that was struggling with political insecurity. Our five young children attended a school surrounded by barbed wire and policed by guards. My husband was out of the country often and we carried on without his physical protection and nurturing. We came to feel the Lord’s love and protection in the absence of our husband and father in sweet ways. We felt peace in our home, possibly because we thought often about the dedication of that home by Cal. He prayed that as a family we would be able to feel the peace and love of the Savior within the walls of our home as we tried to follow the promptings of the Holy Spirit.
Sometimes our neighbors and friends were fearful. I can’t say we didn’t at times feel the same, but as we gathered in prayer, we felt the reality of the words of the Savior: “Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.”[6]
How grateful we were then and since to know that Heavenly Father lives and that He loves us enough to speak to us. How important to know that we need to pray with all the energy of our hearts.[7] How wonderful to be able to feel the Spirit direct our ways as we carry a prayer in our hearts throughout each day.

Perhaps a personal story will help illustrate these opposing concepts of hope and despair. I was not a serious student in high school. I did the minimum amount of effort to get pretty good grades, mostly getting by on my good looks and charm. I was accepted to BYU in Provo and had hope that I’d be an amazingly successful student. My first test of my first college semester was an Economics 110 exam. I had taken economics in high school and knew the basics of supply and demand curves. So, I didn’t really study—how hard could it be?

Well, the exam was hard. Really hard. When I looked at the first question, I had no idea what it was even talking about. I knew I was sunk. I thought about praying for help, and then realized it wouldn’t do any good. Why would God bless me when I hadn’t done a thing to prepare? I did the best I could—mostly by choosing C as every answer, and I turned in the test. I had no hope. And indeed, I shouldn’t have. I got a 22% on my first college exam.

But now here is the sad part. The despair lingered. I figured there was no hope—a 22% on the first test was a hole I thought I could never dig out of. What’s more, my pride was wounded. I had never done that badly on a test before. So, I did the only thing that made sense to me at the time: I just quit going to that class. I didn’t even drop the class—I just quit going.

Here’s a friendly tip to you students: that’s a really bad idea. I could have buckled down and studied harder. I could have gone and talked to the professor. I could have done many things to make the situation better, but since I had no hope, I gave up. And of course, I failed the class.

Most of us probably think family togetherness is a good idea, and the Fa’oa family, from Ulladulla, New South Wales, is no exception. And it’s a good thing. The Fa’oas live in an area where the Church is exceedingly small. At one time they traveled about an hour each way to get to the nearest branch. Now the branch has been divided, and they go to church closer to home but with a much smaller group.
“The branch is pretty much our family and one other family with a few other people,” says 18-year-old Sunny.
Their dad, Paul, is in the branch presidency. Mom, Michelle, is the Young Women president. Add to that the fact the Fa’oas have regular family home evening on Mondays and seminary is held in 15-year-old Troy’s bedroom every morning, and that equals a lot of family togetherness.
“We see each other so much we have to get along,” says Sunny. “Sometimes you feel a little like everything—church, seminary, Young Women—is with just your family. We have to keep a sense of humor so we don’t fight.”
Sunny and Troy meet every morning at about 5:30 with their mother to study the day’s seminary lesson. That’s early, and the fact that seminary is held at home would probably make sleeping in a real temptation. But Sunny and Troy both say their mother’s determination to make seminary a good experience helps keep them going, even if it’s been a short night’s sleep.
“Finishing a year in seminary is a real accomplishment,” says Troy. “I feel so good knowing I’ve read the scriptures and understand them. I would never have made it through the year without my mom to keep me going.”

Bobbie sat on the edge of the pool, looking at the warm, clear water. She remembered that last summer she had run into the waves at the beach. And at the neighborhood pool, she had stood in the shallow end and stuck her head underwater. She had even opened her eyes to count her fingers. This year she had learned to float around in the deep end of the indoor pool.
But today Bobbie just sat on the edge of the big indoor pool and worried. She watched some of her friends kicking up and down the pool lanes, holding onto blue and red kickboards. Bobbie had already done that. In fact, last week Bobbie had kicked all the way down and all the way back in the pool. She secretly thought that she might be the best kicker in her class.
Others in her class were in the shallow end, practicing their overhand strokes. Bobbie could lean over and do a really good crawl stroke. Her swimming instructor had told her how nicely her arms curved when she pulled them through the water.
Another small group was working on breathing. They blew into the water, then breathed in, then blew, then breathed in. Bobbie knew that she could do the breathing. She had worked on that in the bathtub as well as at the beach and in the pool.
Bobbie looked at the depth marker—10 FEET. She looked up at the sign over the door—THIS POOL IS 75 FEET LONG.
I can breathe correctly, and I can kick a good, strong kick, she thought. And my arms don’t get tired.
Just then the buzzer sounded for class to be over. Slowly Bobbie got up from the steps. If only I had a little more time … She really hated to get dressed and go home. Mother wouldn’t say anything. She would smile at Bobbie, sort of raise her eyebrows expectantly, and have an encouraging twinkle in her eyes. But Bobbie would have no beginner’s swimming card to show.
All that week Bobbie walked to the pool, she put on her swimsuit, grabbed a kickboard, and kicked up and down the pool. She practiced her arm strokes until she was quite sure no one could do them any better. She blew bubbles and breathed in, and she even sat on the bottom of the pool in the shallow end.
But each time Bobbie went over to the deep end of the pool and thought about jumping into ten feet of water, she knew she just couldn’t do it.
Every once in a while, Bobbie saw her swimming instructor smiling at her. When Bobbie felt that she was ready to put her arm strokes and her kicking and her breathing all together and swim the length of the pool, her instructor would be right there beside her. So Bobbie wasn’t afraid of sinking.
Bobbie started thinking about just why she couldn’t jump into the deep water and swim to the other end. I must be afraid of something. I wonder what it is. It isn’t the water. It isn’t my teacher, and it certainly isn’t Mother. It’s not my friends, either. Some of them still haven’t learned how to breathe or kick or do the arm strokes. Bobbie thought about all the people who would love her whether she learned to swim this summer or not.
Suddenly Bobbie realized that there was one person she had not thought of—herself. I’m afraid because I don’t want to fail. As long as I don’t try to swim, I can tell myself that when I do try it, I’ll be the best one in the class. But once I jump into that water, maybe I’ll find out that I can’t do it.
Bobbie looked up at the clock. Class wouldn’t be over for another half hour. She left the pool area, went into the dressing room, faced herself in the mirror, and said, “Bobbie, just go do it. Even if you don’t make it today, you can try again tomorrow. The important thing is to try. You’ve got to believe in yourself.”
The mirror Bobbie looked back at the real Bobbie. They smiled at each other.
Walking quickly back into the pool area, Bobbie stood by her swimming teacher and said, “I’m ready to try.”

On February 16, 1832, a group of men, 12 or more, were gathered together upstairs in the home of John Johnson in Hiram, Ohio. Among them were Joseph Smith and Sidney Rigdon. As they were working on the translation of the Bible, they came to John 5:29, which refers to the resurrection of the dead. At that time a glorious vision burst into their minds, and they reported:
While we meditated upon these things, the Lord touched the eyes of our understandings and they were opened, and the glory of the Lord shone round about.
And we beheld the glory of the Son, on the right hand of the Father, and received of his fulness;
And saw the holy angels, and them who are sanctified before his throne, worshiping God, and the Lamb, who worship him forever and ever. [D&C 76:19–21]

Of course the vision was one of the most glorious and wonderful ever given to man. Now known as Doctrine and Covenants 76, it refers to the three degrees of glory.

One of those present was Philo Dibble, a devout convert to the Church, a friend to the Prophet Joseph, and a faithful follower of Jesus Christ. Later in his life as he described the remarkable experience of being in the room when the vision was received, he was asked if he had seen the vision. He replied, “I saw the glory and felt the power, but did not see the vision” (“Recollections of the Prophet Joseph Smith,” Instructor 27, no. 10 [15 May 1892]: 303). Just imagine, there he was in the very room where this grand event occurred, and he did not see it. Oh, he saw something and felt something, but he did not see the miracle of the vision.

Here’s another embarrassing experience from my formal education. When I was in high school, I took a French class. I spent a summer in France to have an immersive experience. It helped me increase my vocabulary, improve my pronunciation and expand my French cultural knowledge. I continued my study of French at the University of Utah and graduated in 1976.

My life path for the next 33 years did not require me to speak French, nor did it call upon my French cultural knowledge. In fact, other than eating an occasional éclair, I did not even think of French.

In 2009, my husband was called as a General Authority Seventy and he was assigned to the Area Presidency in the Africa Southeast Area. At that time, the Area included 34 countries, several of them French speaking. Great, I thought. I’ll be able to give my talks in French and communicate with the members. I sat down to write a simple talk in French and found myself asking, how do you conjugate “to go?” What is the French word for “understand?” I could not remember. Well sure, I still knew the French word for éclair, but that wasn’t much help I can tell you in Africa.

My memory had faded until I knew almost nothing. I started working on learning French again. I hired a tutor, listened to a French language tutoring program, sought out people who spoke French to have conversations. It took a lot of work to be able to give a simple talk in French and understand French conversations again. I was embarrassed and mad at myself that I had let my French competency disappear, but I had done nothing to maintain the knowledge I once possessed.

Most of us have witnessed how living the gospel can change the lives of people in a positive way. As an example of this, I recall a family that we met while in the mission field. The missionaries described the Barnes family as being a wonderful family, but with no evidence at all of Church influence in their lives. The father was rough and crude, a beer-drinking toughie. His children were afraid of him. Their home was far from tidy, and their appearance the same. They had had a hard life. But as the missionaries met with them, a marvelous transformation began taking place. They were impressed with the life and teachings of the Savior and made an effort to apply his teachings in their lives. Their very appearance and outlook on life began to change.

Learning about unconditional love and not being judgmental gave them a new approach with an adult son who is an alcoholic. Their new attitude, along with professional help, seems to be making a real difference in his life.

Learning to respect themselves as sons and daughters of our Heavenly Father, they threw away their cigarettes, and they stopped drinking. They cleaned themselves up and their surroundings as well. And now there is a loving spirit in their home, where they read the scriptures regularly.

Sister Barnes writes: “As we read the scriptures, we found that Jesus gave the instruction to ‘be of good cheer; thy sins be forgiven thee’ (Matt. 9:2), indicating that as we truly repent and forsake our sins, we may be optimistic about the future. He said, ‘Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe in God, believe also in me’ (John 14:1). And we do believe in him, and this belief has changed our lives. We now feel that we can say, as Paul did, ‘I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me’” (Philip. 4:13).

This was the testimony of this good woman regarding the change in her life and in her family. This change was not unlike changes that have occurred with others. After King Benjamin exhorted his people to live a good life, having hope in Christ, “They all cried with one voice, saying: Yea, we believe all the words which thou hast spoken unto us; and also, we know of their surety and truth, because of the Spirit of the Lord … , which has wrought a mighty change in us, or in our hearts, that we have no more disposition to do evil, but to do good continually” (Mosiah 5:2).

Vincent Poulaert (11) did not always know that Jesus Christ is the Savior, that He and Heavenly Father love him, and that his prayers would be answered. But he knows it now.
Early each morning the Poulaert family reads the scriptures together. Last year they were reading from the Book of Mormon. One day they read about Jesus Christ calling the little children to Him. Sister Poulaert loves this passage of scripture and asked her children if they each had a testimony of Jesus Christ. Everyone said yes—except Vincent. “I was pleased that Vincent would be so honest,” Sister Poulaert said, “but I was concerned also. I asked him if he knew how to get a testimony, and he said he did.”
Some of Vincent’s family teased him about not having a testimony. That helped him decide to do all that he could to learn if Jesus Christ was the Savior. During the next week he studied scriptures about Jesus Christ and prayed about what he had read. The following Sunday his family noticed that he wasn’t eating. They asked him if anything was wrong.
“No,” he said. “Today I’m fasting and praying for a testimony.” It was hard for Vincent to fast all day, but he did it. That afternoon, with tears in his eyes, he told his mother that he now knew that Jesus Christ was the Savior and his Friend.

First settling in Perth, a major city on the Indian Ocean shoreline of western Australia, Sister Lawson encountered Latter-day Saints in a local theater group. When she took on the job of stage manager, both the manager of the group and the leading male actor were Latter-day Saints.
Every time the group started or finished rehearsals, the manager called them together for prayer, Sister Lawson recalls. “Even though the rest of us were not members, it gave me a very warm feeling—I always used to quietly pray before I went on stage, and this seemed right, somehow.”
An invitation to attend Church meetings followed, and Sister Lawson was soon baptized. Naturally cheerful and enthusiastic, she served as ward and stake drama director in Perth and became thoroughly involved in the Church.

I think of my ancestors in Scotland and northern England who left behind everything they had known to follow the call of a prophet of God telling them to gather with the saints in America, ancestors who essentially came with nothing but their meager possessions and a testimony of truth. Many had no idea where they would be going, had no home or job waiting for them and in many cases no family to anticipate other than those they brought with them. I can scarce imagine such faith. One of these, Robert Harris, a member of the United Brethren, knew nothing of the church and when his wife Hannah Maria went with her sister and her husband, Daniel Browett, to listen to a preacher named Wilford Woodruff, he was not interested. But his wife was. Robert became frustrated with her interest and determined to do something about this Mormon preacher. My grandmother's journal records the following: "That evening he organized a mob. The plot was to 'rotten egg' the Mormon Preachers and then ride them out of town on a rail, and perhaps even tar and feather them. That night they went to the meeting. As Brother Woodruff was speaking, Robert gave the signal and said, 'Now is the time, boys. Let's go in and pitch Woodruff and his companions out.' As he walked toward the front, Robert saw his wife on the front seat listening intently to the words of Brother Woodruff. Again this strange feeling engulfed him and he became overpowered. He put up his hands to stop the mob. 'There is something to this religion.' The mob all bowed their heads and went out. Brother Woodruff continued his meetings and Robert attended. At the end of the sixth meeting, he stepped up to Brother Woodruff and said, 'You have made me a convert to your teachings. I desire to be baptized at your hands.' He was baptized in March 1840, just three weeks after his wife." Later, in 1841, Robert was Daniel Browett's counselor on the ship "Echo" that sailed with 109 members of the church for America. It took them 10 weeks to get from England to Nauvoo. He was among those driven out, and subsequently enlisted with the Mormon Battalion, eventually returning overland from California to arrive in the Salt Lake Valley in October of 1847.

The hills in southern Utah are as round and smooth as apples. In winter, snow blankets the rock. Even in spring, there are few plants. Wind-whipped, a level surface suddenly turns into gulches and blind canyons, cliffs falling thousands of feet to the rare river. In the winter of 1879–80, 230 people, 83 wagons, and 1,000 head of livestock made this unbelievable journey.

After the first four weeks of travel, their road ended at 40-Mile Spring. Snow filled the mountain passes behind them. The only possible way was through the rocky canyon lands to a crack, or hole, in the cliff that dropped 1,000 feet (over 300 m) down to the Colorado River. Using hand tools and the little bit of black powder they had, the men divided into three teams and began to work. The first team widened the crack.

The second team chiseled, blasted, and filled the trail, which they called a dugway. At first it couldn’t even be walked down. Men were lowered in half barrels to where they chiseled holes two inches (five cm) wide and 10 inches (25 cm) deep. Stakes were pounded into the holes, then covered with poles, brush, and dirt, thus tacking 50 feet (15 m) of road onto the cliff face. The finished road was 1,800 feet (550 m) long.

The third team worked on a steep dugway rising from the other side of the river for use once the wagons were ferried across the river.

After six weeks of hard work, on January 26, 1880, they started down through the hole-in-the-rock. The rear wheels of the heavily loaded wagons were chained. One man drove each wagon while as many as ten men held it back with ropes. The women and children preferred to walk and slide to the river. Not a single wagon was lost.

On May 30 of last year, my friend Troy Russell pulled his pickup truck slowly out of his garage on his way to donate goods to the local Deseret Industries. He felt his back tire roll over a bump. Thinking some item had fallen off the truck, he got out only to find his precious nine-year-old son, Austen, lying face down on the pavement. The screams, the priesthood blessing, the paramedic crew, the hospital staff—they were, in this case, to no avail. Austen was gone.
Unable to sleep, unable to find peace, Troy was inconsolable. He said it was more than he could bear and that he simply could not go on. But into that agonizing breach came three redeeming forces.
First was the love and reassuring spirit of our Father in Heaven, a presence communicated through the Holy Ghost that comforted Troy, taught him, loved him, and whispered that God knows everything about losing a beautiful and perfect Son. Second was his wife, Deedra, who held Troy in her arms and loved him and reminded him that she too had lost that son and was determined not to lose a husband also. Third in this story is John Manning, home teacher extraordinaire.
I frankly don’t know on what schedule John and his junior companion made visits to the Russell home, or what message was given when they got there, or how they reported the experience. What I do know is that last spring Brother Manning reached down and picked Troy Russell up off the tragedy of that driveway just as if he were picking up little Austen himself. Like the home teacher or watchman or brother in the gospel he was supposed to be, John simply took over the priesthood care and keeping of Troy Russell. He started by saying, “Troy, Austen wants you back on your feet—including on the basketball court—so I will be here every morning at 5:15 a.m. Be ready because I don’t want to have to come in to get you up—and I know Deedra doesn’t want me to do that either.”
“I didn’t want to go,” Troy told me later, “because I had always taken Austen with me on those mornings and I knew the memories would be too painful. But John insisted, so I went. From that first day back, we talked—or rather I talked and John listened. I talked the entire drive to the church and then the entire drive home. Sometimes I talked while we parked in the driveway and watched the sun rising over Las Vegas. At first it was difficult, but over time I realized I had found my strength in the form of a very slow 6-foot-2-inch (1.88 m) Church ball player, with an absolutely pathetic jump shot, who loved me and listened to me until the sun finally rose again on my life.”8

One day I was walking with my friend Alexis. Out of nowhere an older schoolmate said to me, “Move, nerd!” I asked myself, “What would Jesus do in this situation?” I told her that I liked the way she does her hair and the way she picks out her clothing. I felt a good feeling inside telling me I did a good job. My friend Alexis asked, “Why didn’t you say anything mean to her?”
Later after class, the girl came up to me and told me she was sorry. I accepted her apology.

Photograph courtesy of Ashley Tuft
Before I went through the temple, I didn’t know exactly what to expect. I read the booklet Preparing to Enter the Holy Temple and took a temple preparation class. That helped me be more prepared for receiving my own endowment. When I went to the temple for the first time, I was not nervous like I thought I would be, because I felt peace. The temple workers were all very friendly and made sure I knew where to go the whole time I was at the temple.
During the endowment, I made covenants with my Father in Heaven and in return was promised many beautiful blessings and gifts of knowledge. Like other ordinances, including baptism, the endowment ordinance is very symbolic. Before I went through the endowment session, a temple worker told me that I may have many questions by the end of the session. Because there are so many symbols, it’s impossible to understand everything at once. That’s why I think it’s so important to return to the temple as often as possible.
Since I’ve been to the temple, I’ve felt the Spirit more abundantly in my life. I’ve felt the words that I heard in the temple sink into my heart, and I know that if I do all that I covenanted with my Heavenly Father to do, then I will be blessed. This ordinance has helped me understand how much Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ love each individual person, because we are taught in the temple how to be happy.
Ashley Tuft, 20, Texas, USA

So that he could learn all the words by heart, Spencer W. Kimball practiced the hymns even while he milked cows. When a Church leader suggested that everyone read the scriptures, Spencer realized that he had never read the Bible. That very night he set a goal to read it from cover to cover. He lighted a little coal-oil lamp and began to read. He read a little every night. One year later, he had completed his goal.