Gospel Story Finder

About a year ago, I woke up in a trailer someplace in Illinois, full of drugs and alcohol, and I didn’t remember anything I’d done. I remembered only that on my business trip, as soon as the plane landed, it took me all of about 10 minutes to ditch my colleague, go straight to the bar, and disappear for three days. The second day—the day I was supposed to fly home—was my daughter’s birthday. Just a year ago.
A year ago Mark (names have been changed) didn’t know how he would overcome his addiction to drugs and alcohol. He had already tried to quit. He had visited with his bishop, been to professional counselors, gone through rehabilitation centers, and exerted all the willpower he could, but nothing brought permanent change. Soon after that critical moment in Illinois, he found the Church’s 12-step addiction recovery program, sponsored by LDS Family Services. In the program, he found the principles and direction that would change his life.
The change occurred as he studied and applied the principles taught in the program workbook and weekly recovery meetings. The workbook guides readers toward recovery using 12 steps, each of which addresses an essential principle of recovery such as honesty, hope, or trust in God. At the weekly meetings, participants are able to gain strength from others and share their own experiences of applying the principles.
Mark learned that the journey from addiction to recovery is a difficult one, but knowing people who have already made that journey can give hope to those who struggle. At each meeting a facilitator—someone who has experienced recovery—encourages others by sharing insights based on his or her own recovery. Mark is now a facilitator. Each week he shares his experiences (included in this article in italics) to help others understand that they are not alone and that addiction can be overcome.
After each time I gave in, I would say, “This time is going to be different. Please, Lord, help me. I don’t want this to be a part of my life.” Yet it continued to be.
An oft-repeated phrase among program participants is that an individual seeks recovery “when the pain of the problem becomes greater than the pain of the solution.” When Mark reached that point, he took a friend’s suggestion and came to a Latter-day Saint addiction-recovery meeting. Some people decide on their own to come. Others are encouraged to attend by friends or priesthood leaders. Some have been ordered by a court of law to attend 12-step recovery meetings.
Working the steps of this program simplified the gospel in a way that I could apply the testimony I had always had.
As Mark discovered, the steps of the addiction recovery program are a systematic way of implementing gospel principles. The 12 steps are adapted from the original Twelve Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous, but the Church’s program is unique because it puts the steps into “a framework of the doctrines and beliefs of the Church.”1 In the addiction recovery program, the 12 steps are actually steps to accessing the power of the Atonement.
The change that has happened to me is I’m not miserable all the time. Sometimes it’s not easy. Perhaps the Lord doesn’t see fit to take it all from me right now, but He strengthens me so I can bear it patiently and cheerfully, and I can progress. He lightens it just enough that I learn the most that I can.
In the past I was able to abstain for periods of time. I’d get myself back in good standing with the Church and serve in callings, and everyone would tell me how great I was. But I didn’t feel great on the inside at all. And that’s why abstaining is just one part of it. True recovery is not doing it and not wanting to do it because our nature is changed.
Every day I seek my Heavenly Father in prayer and through the scriptures. In the morning I read books about recovery, and I write my feelings and my impressions. I call a support person in the program to help clarify my thinking. I go to the meetings. I try to serve. And I have never relapsed on a day that I have done those things.
Those daily tasks keep Mark spiritually well. Others who have been through the program have discovered the same truth: maintaining spiritual strength requires continuous effort. No one is completely safe from relapse, but through daily gospel living, those who struggle with addiction come unto Christ and receive strength and hope.
“I’m learning bit by bit, precept upon precept,” says Mark. “My nature is changing, and it’s the first time since this started that I can say I have hope. I truly believe that I never have to relapse again.”

Great destinations are not achieved in a single step or by "sudden flight", but by the accomplishment of numerous smaller or interim goals all along the way. These interim goals should be written down and placed where you can see them often. I recall entering a missionary apartment in Greece and noticing a number taped to the ceiling. When I asked what it was, the missionaries told me that it was their baptismal goal for the month and that they had put it on the ceiling so that it was the first thing they saw each morning when they opened their eyes and the last thing they saw at night before they fell asleep.

The setting and accomplishing of daily goals lead you little by little to your destination.

I live in Lagos, Nigeria. When I was 13 years old, a missionary couple, Elder and Sister Grimshaw, started visiting us. They taught us the gospel, and at first I was unreceptive.
As time went on, I started listening attentively to them and asked questions which they answered satisfactorily. Yet I still did not believe them and planned to refuse baptism. On the day of our last discussion, they asked us to pray sincerely about what they had taught us. This touched me so much that I decided to be baptized with my family.
After baptism, I started studying the Book of Mormon, with frequent fasting and prayer. I did not feel bold talking to people, but as I studied, I began to feel a strong desire to lead a righteous life.
After completing the Book of Mormon, my testimony became very strong and a sudden desire to share the gospel came upon me. I started feeling the spirit of peace within me. I started telling my friends about the Church with boldness unlike before. My testimony grew so much I began to share it at fast and testimony Sunday.
My family was overwhelmed at my spiritual growth, and joy filled their hearts. All this happened two years after I joined the Church. The fear and shyness I used to have suddenly fled away. I was convinced that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is the only true church on earth this day.

Lukás cares for a sleepy little hamster named Kikina. He feeds his pet seeds, carrots, potatoes, apples, oranges, and nuts and keeps the hamster house clean so the small animal will stay healthy. When Kikina is awake, Lukás talks to him. He used to put Kikina in a toy car and pull him around the room. That was until Kikina jumped out of the car window one day. Lukás has decided the hamster doesn’t like riding in the car.

In an elders quorum presidency, we worked with several less-active families. In a personal interview with one couple, I asked, “Isn’t it about time you went to the temple with your family?” I couldn’t believe their answer—they said, “Yes.” We cried. They were asked to speak of their “conversion” in a Saturday evening session of stake conference, and as they expressed their love, I cried. I thought I was all cried out by the time we went to the temple—until I saw them with their beautiful daughters kneeling at the altar, being sealed for time and all eternity.

Recently I received a letter from parents in California whose son had written home just before last Christmas, and then shortly thereafter his life was taken in the war in Vietnam. This is part of what he wrote: “War is an ugly thing, a vicious thing. It makes men do things they would not normally do. It breaks up families, causes immorality, cheating, and much hatred. It is not the glorious John Wayne-type thing you see in the movies. It is going a month without a shower and a change of clothing. It is fear creeping up your spine when you hear a mortar tube in the jungle. It is not being able to get close enough to the ground when coming under enemy fire; hearing your buddy cry out because of being ripped with a hot piece of shrapnel. You men be proud of your American citizenship, because many brave and valiant men are here preserving your freedom. [This letter was written to his priesthood quorum back home.] God has given you the gift of a free nation, and it is the duty of each of you to help in whatever way you can to preserve it. America is the protector of our Church, which is dearer to me than life itself. [And then this young man said this very significant thing:] I realize now that I have already received the greatest gift of all, and that is the opportunity to gain exaltation and eternal life. If you have this gift, nothing else really matters.”

Brother Ayerdis currently serves as bishop of the Brooklyn Second Ward, where meetings are conducted in Spanish. He recalls the day when he took his family to see the judge who would grant them permanent residency in the United States: “Our children sat beside us on the long bench—quiet, like angels.” The judge thought that New York would corrupt the children and said to the family, “What a shame that you had to bring your lovely children here.” Sister Ayerdis responded, “We may have left our furniture, our house, and our clothes behind in our native land, but we did bring our traditions.”

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.

Some of my friends have gone into Young Women, leaving me and another one of my friends behind. After the other girl turns 12, and when she leaves, I won’t have any of my friends in Primary with me. It makes me feel kind of sad and lonely.
I read the Friend from January 2017. On one page, it had mazes and pictures of people feeling different emotions like confusion and being afraid, with scriptures in the middle of each. I looked them up, and I prayed. Before I saw this, my heart was hurting a bit. But afterward, I felt peace and love from Heavenly Father. I have underlined those four verses, and I keep them with me in my heart.
Thank you for printing that. It made me feel loved and peaceful and that everything was going to be OK. I’m sure that the feeling has happened to others as well.
Robyn G., age 11, Utah, USA

Toshi just moved from Japan to the Philippines. He planned a fun activity for his Primary class.
Are you excited, Toshi?
Yes, but I’m a little scared too. I don’t speak the same language as the other kids.
That’s OK! I’ll tell them what you say.
We have lots of games and treats. I hope they like it.
Of course they will. And it sounds like they’re here!
Thanks for inviting us, Toshi! We’re so happy to be here.
Toshi will speak Japanese, and I’ll tell you what he says.
Your activity was so fun! Thank you!
Thank you for coming!
This story took place in the Philippines.

Illustrations by Hollie Hibbert
Tomorrow was Moresby’s first day of school. He was nervous.
“Mummy, do you think kids will tease me?” he asked at breakfast.
“Will my teacher be nice?” he asked at lunch.
“What if no one plays with me?” he asked at dinner.
That night Dad gave Moresby a priesthood blessing. Dad said it would help him be brave. During the blessing Moresby felt warm in his heart. Mummy said that feeling was the Holy Ghost.
At school the next day, Moresby tried his best to be brave. He met his new teacher, Mrs. Moetu. She was nice. He met lots of new friends, and nobody teased him!
But during recess, two boys made mean faces at a girl on the playground. She started to cry. Moresby wanted to be brave. He walked over to help her. The boys saw him and ran away.
“I miss my mum.” The girl sniffed.
“Me too,” said Moresby.
Moresby thought of how he could cheer her up. He scooped up some dirt. “Want to bake a cake with me?”
The girl wiped her tears. “How?” she asked.
“We can make pavlova,” Moresby said, shaping the dirt like a cake.
The girl smiled. “I love pavlova.”
Later that day, Mummy picked up Moresby from school.
“How was your first day?” asked Mummy.
Moresby smiled. “I was brave, and I made a new friend!”
“That’s great!” Mummy said. “I’m glad Heavenly Father helped you today.”
Moresby smiled. “From now on, you can call me Moresby the Brave!”

I hated early-morning seminary. I was raised in Boulder, Colorado, and all we had was early-morning seminary. I tried every excuse why I should not go: “Teenagers need their sleep.” “My life is too busy.” “I’m too tired to pay attention, so I don’t get anything out of it.” Nothing worked. Every morning around 5:45, my mom would wake me, push me in the direction of the shower, and get me out the door for seminary.
This was my pattern all four years until the late fall of my senior year. I arrived at seminary, but the teacher had not shown up. A good friend of mine stood up in front of the class and said, “Since the teacher isn’t here, I think we should just take turns reading aloud the assigned reading.”
Someone started reading 2 Nephi 33:10–11: “Hearken unto these words and believe in Christ; and if ye believe not in these words believe in Christ. And if ye shall believe in Christ ye will believe in these words, for they are the words of Christ, and he hath given them unto me; and they teach all men that they should do good.
“And if they are not the words of Christ, judge ye—for Christ will show unto you, with power and great glory, that they are his words, at the last day; and you and I shall stand face to face before his bar; and ye shall know that I have been commanded of him to write these things, notwithstanding my weakness.”
As I listened to these words, I thought, “I believe in Christ. If I believe in Him, then these words are true.” As I completed that thought, the Spirit touched me more profoundly. I was so struck by it that I remember looking around the room to see if others were feeling the same thing. They didn’t seem changed or appear as if they were feeling something different. This was a lesson that I was learning privately, just for me. The feeling didn’t go away. I carried it with me for the rest of the day. It was the beginning of a strong testimony for me.
I have often thought about that event and contemplated the act of being diligent. I had been attending seminary reluctantly for almost four years. But because I was diligent and obeying my mother’s desire that I attend, I was taught by the Spirit. If I had been at home in bed sleeping, I would have missed that opportunity. It is often when I least expect it, when I have been diligent day after day, month after month, and year after year attending church, reading the scriptures, or praying that the Spirit whispers to me and confirms the truth of the gospel. I am glad I learned that lesson at 17 while attending early morning seminary.

After church Tara puts away her shiny shoes.
She looks at her Book of Mormon picture book.
She draws a picture to send to her auntie.
While Dad and Mom make dinner, Tara plays with her baby brother.
Then she sets the table.
“Tara, thank you for helping our family have a happy Sabbath day!” says Dad.
Trace your finger along the line to help Tara move through her Sabbath day. Can you tell what she does to make Sunday a happy day?

On the afternoon of Dec. 11, 2022, three buses pulled in at Konka, the facility rented for FSY—a five-day youth conference held for young people in the Gauteng, South Africa area. The following morning, 530 young men and young women would descend on the facility, but these first three buses carried the 70 faithful young single adult men and women who had accepted the call to be coordinators, assistant coordinators and counselors for FSY; dutifully arriving the night before to set up for the exciting week to come.
Little did these young leaders know what the night would bring.
That evening, the rain arrived. Rain was forecast for each day, but the intensity of the storm took all by surprise. The night sky was almost constantly lit up by lightning. Roars of thunder and a tumultuous downpour went through the night and continued, heavy and strong, as dawn arrived.
Konka is located about two hours north of Johannesburg. To reach the venue, the buses had to travel some distance on dirt roads and cross a river using a low-water bridge before entering the facility.
The morning that the youth were due to arrive, we looked at the river and saw it had swelled to the point that nothing could cross the bridge. The roar of the water flowing over the low water bridge sounded like Victoria Falls. We began praying that the rains would subside soon or there would be no accessing the facility when the youth were to begin arriving at 11 am. Yet the rains continued. That is when the calls of concern began to come in from leaders and parents. “Are you cancelling FSY? You should cancel FSY.” “Should we send the buses in this weather or are you putting things on hold?” “Perhaps you should delay the start of FSY until the water levels drop.”
As we prayed to know what to do, the words of President Russell M. Nelson kept coming to mind. “Seek and expect miracles.”1 Yet as we prayed it seemed the rain was simply becoming more intense. We still had four hours until they were to arrive. Perhaps it would slow down enough by the time they got here that the water level would drop sufficiently, though it was appearing unlikely. “We are not cancelling. Just come. It will work out,” we responded. As we spoke those words in faith, we knew it would take a miracle.
We inspected the bridge to see if it would be possible for the youth to cross it by foot. We observed that most of the bridge was out of the river, but if we were to use it, the youth would still have to cross a portion of the river in at least knee-deep water that was running swiftly for the last 30 meters. We asked the Konka staff to begin setting up ropes across the bridge, emphasizing that we would not take any risks with the youth, many of whom do not swim at all. If it was clear we could cross the river safely, we would go forward with this plan.
The young single adults leapt to their feet volunteering in excitement to be a rescuer for the 2022 FSY and carry our youth across the river. They ran to their dorm rooms and changed into suitable clothing, knowing they were about to get very wet and dirty in the river and mud.
At 10:45 am we walked down to the water. The youth had already begun to arrive. The Konka staff had fixed the ropes to hold while crossing the water and were ready for the assistance of the young single adults. Several leaders grabbed onto the ropes and walked across the river and foot bridge to greet the youth and their parents and leaders as they arrived, to give them confidence and assurance that everything was safe, and we were moving forward.
There was shock on the faces of the youth and leaders as we explained the situation and instructed the youth to remove their shoes and socks and pull up their pant legs as far as they could. An umbrella to protect them from the rain was all most had planned on. Now they were about to cross a river on foot. As they walked down to the footbridge, several slipped, a few even falling in the deep and slippery mud. “Hang on to the rope!” was the yell that echoed for the next three hours as group after group arrived.
The young adult leaders took every suitcase and all the bedding and carried it across the footbridge. Over 500 youth made it across the river, either on the backs of the young single adults or picking their own cautious paths across the river whilst holding onto the safety ropes. A few hours later, the rain began to lessen. We had made it, and the FSY experience could go forward.
Uniformly, the youth expressed thanks that FSY had not been cancelled and we had found a way forward. Several analogies to our river crossing followed during the week, all relating back to the theme trust in the Lord. The young single adults acting as counselors not only carried and guided the youth across a literal river, but then spent the week teaching and strengthening the youth in a way that has had a deep and meaningful impact—teaching them and sharing tools for navigating an increasingly difficult world. Lives have been forever changed.

Each summer eleven-year-old Blazer Scouts, like Jason Stewart and David Mathews of Las Vegas, Nevada, look forward to sleeping in tents and cooking outdoors with other troop members.
One morning last summer David and Jason got up at 5:00 A.M. and met with other Scouts at the meetinghouse for the ride to the mountains. By eight o’clock boys from all over East Stake were waiting at the trailhead for the mile-and-a-half hike into camp. The hike was a skill award requirement. Before camp was over, the boys would earn the major part of five skill awards.
Stake President Kendall Jones greeted the boys and presented each one with a hiking stave. He showed how he had carved his own stave with special designs. Jason and David were anxious to do the same, but for the moment, they were grateful to have even plain staves to help them with the climb.
The boys were to hike in to the Mt. Potosi (Poe-TOE-see) Scout Camp, each carrying a fully inspected pack, sleeping bag, and canteen. Patrol leaders, like David, would also carry the troop flag.
Arriving at the camp an hour later, Jason and David gladly dropped their gear and stood at attention while the Leadership Corps (chosen from last year’s Blazers) welcomed them. After a flag-raising ceremony, each troop gave a rousing patrol yell and displayed its flag.
The real work of the camp began as the boys moved to five different stations for in-depth skill award training. David looked over Jason’s shoulder while President Gary Stewart demonstrated knot-tying techniques. The boys practiced several kinds of knots until they learned them by heart.
At the map-and-compass station, Brother Arden Sampson taught Jason how to locate his position using a compass. After instruction in map skills and pacing, the Blazer Scouts were given a compass course to follow. Those who did it successfully found a hidden treasure.
Lunchtime provided another opportunity for the Scouts to fulfill a skill award requirement. Each boy prepared lunch without using utensils. Then it was on to more skill award stations. At the lashings station, President Jones gave David pointers on how to make a square lashing.
At last it was time to play! David and Jason had been watching through the trees while Scout Troops 160 and 370 spent the day lashing together a huge tower. Now they found out what it was for. Boys ran eagerly to line up for rides down the cable strung three hundred feet across the road to the hill opposite. Once on the lashed tower, they slipped a knotted rope between their legs and jumped off. Down they rode on their own “Mt. Potosi Tramway.”
After dinner David and Jason helped clean up camp; then they set up tents. As the sun set, they headed for an amphitheater to attend a special campfire program. The Scouts sang songs, put on skits, then settled down to listen as Brother Stephen Stoney gave a Scoutmaster’s Minute. Afterward they roasted marshmallows and baked apples.
Early the next morning David grabbed his stave and canteen, wondering how he’d manage the five-mile hike over the rugged terrain. Along the way, the Leadership Corps had established rest points, where the boys reviewed the things that they had learned at the skill award stations.
Back from the hike, the boys ate their final camp meal, took down tents, and met one last time at the flagpole. A game was started, and David, sitting at the end of the line, pulled the other boys down over him in a funny sit-down race. Finally, each boy received a specialized award, watched the lowering of the flag, and prepared to leave.
Tired and dirty, the boys shouldered their packs again for the hike out. When they reached the road, they had completed the hiking skill award begun the day before. Except for a few requirements to complete in their troop meetings, the boys had earned their five skill awards. Whooping at the sight of the waiting trucks, they piled in for the ride home.

Brother Yáñez says he now has a strong testimony of the Word of Wisdom and the law of tithing. When the missionaries were teaching him, he was keeping his business open seven days a week to pay for Paola’s U.S. $1,000-per-month treatment. The law of tithing “was very hard for me to accept,” he says, but he decided to keep the Sabbath day holy and test the promise in Malachi 3:10 by paying tithing. When he closed his store on Sundays, he says, “those who used to buy on Sunday bought on Saturday—and they bought more.” Today he is much better off financially than he was when he operated his business seven days a week.

We were on a humanitarian missionary assignment to Romania right after the fall of the Berlin wall. By invitation, I taught classes to medical and helping professionals at the neuropsychiatric hospital in Bucharest. The lecture room was cold in the winter but they came in large numbers to learn. Most had not been taught helping theories and skills for forty years. One day hospital administrators came to say they needed our room. I said, "That is fine. We will continue next week." But the class said, "No. No, we will find another place." And they did.
It was an unused building at the other end of the large complex. I believe it had not been heated all winter. As my husband Harold helped me fill the van with our audio/visual equipment, I said, " It is too far and too cold--the class will not walk all that way." But as we drove along the main road, we looked over and saw them--trudging along in the snow through the campus. Soon they were seated in the cold and vacant building, wearing coats, hats, boots, scarves and some with mittens, pencils in hand. They were waiting to be taught. As we were setting up our equipment, we noticed the leader of the group was also searching for an electrical outlet that worked. She had an old, small, hotplate in her hand, the kind with the little wire coil as the element. And I thought, "These people are so innovative." She is going to keep warm with that hot plate. As I was beginning to teach, I noticed her coming toward me. She put the hot plate down by my feet. "There," she said, "It is not much, but I hope it will keep you a little warm while you teach us." And I was the one who was taught--the great blessing of selfless service, given with a willing heart, no matter the sacrifice of the contribution.

I am moved by an example of this from our early Church history. During the winter of 1838, Joseph Smith and other Church leaders were detained in Liberty Jail when the Latter-day Saints were forcibly driven from their homes in the state of Missouri. The Saints were destitute, friendless, and suffering greatly from the cold and lack of resources. The residents of Quincy, Illinois, saw their desperate plight and reached out in compassion and friendship.
Wandle Mace, a resident of Quincy, later recalled when he first saw the Saints along the Mississippi River in makeshift tents: “Some had sheets stretched, to make a little shelter from the wind, … the children were shivering around a fire which the wind blew about so it done them very little good. The poor Saints were suffering terribly.”
Seeing the plight of the Saints, Quincy residents rallied together to provide aid, some even assisting in transporting their new friends across the river. Mace continued: “[They] donated liberally; the merchants vying with each other as to which could be the most liberal … with … pork, … sugar, … shoes and clothing, everything these poor outcasts so much needed.” Before long, the refugees outnumbered the Quincy residents, who opened their homes and shared their meager resources at great personal sacrifice.
Many Saints survived the harsh winter only because of the compassion and generosity of the residents of Quincy. These earthly angels opened their hearts and homes, bringing lifesaving nourishment, warmth, and—perhaps most importantly—a hand of friendship to the suffering Saints. Although their stay in Quincy was relatively short, the Saints never forgot their debt of gratitude toward their beloved neighbors, and Quincy became known as the “city of refuge.”

“Tell me a story about the old country, Grandpa. Please?” she used to plead.

“All right, but you know you’ve heard them all before.” His eyes would twinkle as the tale would unfold. “When I was a young lad, my family took care of sheep in the fields surrounding the town. The country was lush and green in the daytime, but at night everything was veiled in shadows. I had the evening watch alone. Sometimes the sheep were restless, so I always took along my old mandolin. I’d sing a quiet song, and it would settle them down. It would ease my mind a bit too. Tending sheep can be mighty lonely. My mandolin has always been a comfort to me, Manda. I’m glad you have learned to play it. Someday I want you to have it.”

A sharp nudge from her older brother brought Amanda back to the present. Bishop Madsen stepped up to the tall box that served as a pulpit and announced the opening song and prayer. Then Amanda’s mind wandered again as the service began. She could see herself bumping around in the back of the covered wagon, gazing longingly behind them as the trail disappeared into dust. She’d missed her home and the friends she’d left behind. Grandpa hadn’t seemed to, though. He’d sat in front, constantly looking ahead.

“Let’s sing a song,” he’d suggest. Amanda would be the first to join in.

Their voices had been carried by the warm Nebraska wind, and soon all the settlers in their company had began to sing along.

The most precious moments had been at night around the campfire. The wagons had been pulled together into a circle, and the moon had looked large in the prairie sky, softly shining on tired, sunbaked faces.

The trek to Utah was long and hard, Amanda thought. Grandpa had made it then. Why did he have to die now?

The bishop had finished speaking, and he turned toward Amanda.

“Amanda, we all know how much you and your great-grandfather loved to sing together. Do you think you could come up here and sing one of his favorite songs for us?”

Amanda froze in her seat. I could never sing without Grandpa, she thought. She looked at the mandolin lying among the flowers. It had helped Grandpa while he tended sheep. Maybe it would help her now.

She rose slowly and walked over to the casket. Her hands trembled as she lifted the mandolin from its bed of flowers. Several people in the crowd nodded encouragement. Amanda cleared her throat, placed her fingers on the strings, and began: “Come, come, ye Saints, …”

The song went beautifully until she came to the last verse. Tears welled up in her eyes, and her voice started to quaver.

Bishop Madsen stepped quickly to Amanda’s side, beckoning the congregation to join in. Instantly the little log church was filled with music.

And should we die before our journey’s through,
Happy day! all is well!
We then are free from toil and sorrow, too;
With the just we shall dwell! …

Amanda sat down, still holding the mandolin. Mother put her arm around Amanda’s shoulder and said, “Grandpa’s mandolin can become as much a part of you as it was a part of him. Take good care of it.”

Amanda smiled. It was already a great comfort to her.

President Gilbert We would like to share several experiences in our own lives that have helped us learn the importance of this pattern. During the midst of a very challenging academic season in my graduate studies, I was extended a call to serve in the Boston Stake Young Men's presidency. Having never served in that calling before, my first thought was that the assignment would basically entail planning a few dances each year at a stake center. But I soon learned to look up and see that the Lord had much more in mind. In fact, the Lord was looking for someone who could invest personally in the lives of the young men in Boston, young men who were new in the gospel and who needed to know the Lord's love in a personal and direct way.

Sister Gilbert Once President Gilbert looked up to see what the Lord expected, he realized this call would mean much more than a quarterly stake dance. It would mean every Sunday driving around the Boston Stake attending meetings, teaching, and getting to know those youth. It would mean attending weeknight youth activities in inner-city branches where there were not always local youth leaders available. It would mean having youth in our home and into our lives. Here is a picture of some of those youth sharing a meal in our dining room. President Gilbert loved those boys as if they were part of our family. He prayed for them. He knew them the way the Lord knew them, and he knelt at night asking how best to reach each of them. The Lord put great power into my husband because he was on the Lord's errand.

President GilbertNow, I want you to focus especially on the four boys pointing at the camera. Each of those boys would eventually come here to Rexburg and attend BYU-Idaho. Each of them would eventually serve a mission. And each of them would eventually meet a wonderful young woman and marry in the temple. This is a picture of all four of them in front of the Oakland Temple at a wedding that happened last summer in California. I love those boys. I love everything they have become. Mostly, I love that the Lord allowed me to serve them and to witness His power in their lives as He has shaped them into the men they are today.