Gospel Story Finder

Blendina Muca spent the early years of her life struggling with a medical condition known as strabismus, or crossed eyes. After many years of unsuccessful treatment in her native Albania, she found help from an American physician who visited her homeland on a humanitarian excursion.
“Since I was little I had crossed eyes,” Ms. Muca reported. “My father sent me for a visit to the doctor, who gave me some drops and glasses. … They didn’t correct my eyes—they became worse—but I always walked with hope they would be better.”
Despite her visual limitations, the young Albanian was able through her diligence to become a professional tailor, a career in which she excelled.
When Ms. Muca’s sister joined the Church, a door opened for the visually impaired young woman. Church humanitarian service missionaries, present at her sister’s baptism, invited Ms. Muca to visit an LDS-sponsored clinic staffed with member ophthalmologists from the United States.
Dr. Rick Olson, a pediatric ophthalmologist on staff at the University of Iowa, performed the surgery on Ms. Muca’s eyes. Prior to the surgery, the young patient, her sister, and friends united in prayer with Dr. Olson.
“The doctor asked God to make his hands as gold to fix my eyes,” Ms. Muca reported, “and He did. I knew God had made a miracle.”
Ms. Muca sees life much differently following her successful surgery. She explained: “My wish now is to go to university and help those who are in need—to help people the same way God helped me. Miracles do happen.”

I was a new member of the Church, a new wife, and now a new mother. It was fast Sunday, and our tiny daughter was about to receive a name and a blessing. I had never seen a baby blessing before because we lived in a ward with few young families. I didn’t know what to expect. Yet I felt by the Spirit that this was something very special and significant.
My husband, joined by other reverent priesthood holders, carefully cradled our precious little daughter. The sweetness of the Spirit filled me with joy. Tears ran down my cheeks, and myriad impressions flooded my mind. I knew I was only beginning to glimpse the depth and breadth of Heavenly Father’s magnificent gift of love to us—the priesthood.
Shortly after my baptism, my husband and I were married. His parents were members of the Church and his home was centered in the gospel, but I knew his testimony was not well rooted. I was not worried, though. My young faith brimmed with optimism. I would simply love him and be patient and prayerful.
During the months I carried our firstborn, I felt as mothers do—so close to my little one, so full of the wonder at this new life within me. When our daughter was born, my bond with her had become a cord of love, strong and sweet.
But I was concerned for my husband. He hadn’t had the blessing of this intense closeness to our daughter that I had enjoyed. Of course he loved her, but I wondered and worried about whether a strong bond would develop between him and her. I worried as I spent time nursing her, bathing her, and holding her, while most of my husband’s time was occupied with working to support our family.
Now, a few weeks after her birth, there we were in our chapel. A miracle was unfolding before my eyes and in my heart. My tentative husband humbly smiled at his brethren in the circle, his eyes full of light and a glint of tears. In return, love and support flowed from those brethren to him as they placed hands on shoulders and helped cradle our baby, forming a little circle bathed in pure and sacred love. As my husband began the blessing, I heard trembling in his voice, and I knew that he was feeling the Lord’s power and the honor of holding His priesthood.
I felt a great love welling up in him for our little girl, and I knew he had tried hard to prepare himself to give her the blessing Heavenly Father intended for her. My joy was full as I realized that he now felt tightly bonded to our daughter. It was a bond that was never to weaken.

Samuel loved to watch television with Papá, especially on Saturdays. Papá worked hard all week. But on Saturday, Mamá cooked pastelitos de piña (pastries with pineapple filling) and they all watched TV together.
One Saturday night, they decided to watch a partido de fútbol (soccer game). But the game started late, and it would last for a long time. When the first half was over, the score was 0-0. Samuel wanted to keep watching. But he couldn’t stop yawning.
“Time for bed, Samuelito,” Mamá said gently. “You need to get some sleep so you can stay awake in church tomorrow.”
“But Mamá,” Samuel said, “it’s two of the best teams in Honduras!”
Papá looked at the clock. “All right. You can keep watching. But you need to get up on time tomorrow.”
The game got even more exciting in the second half. Samuel was wide awake now! He and Papá were both cheering. First there was a corner kick. Then the goalie made a great save. One team scored, and then the other. Before Samuel knew it, the game was over. It ended in a 1-1 tie.
The next morning, Samuel was so tired that he didn’t want to get out of bed. But he knew that going to church was important.
During sacrament meeting, Samuel started to fall asleep. His head kept nodding. Mamá poked him to help him stay awake. But he was so tired that he didn’t pay attention to the speakers.
“I think your Saturday is getting in the way of your Sunday,” Papá said.
In Primary, Samuel’s teacher talked about keeping the Sabbath day holy. She asked what the children could do to make Sunday special. Samuel thought for a minute. Then he said, “Go to bed on time on Saturday!”
When they got home after church, Samuel talked to Mamá and Papá. “I had fun watching the game last night,” Samuel said. “But I should have gone to bed earlier. I think we should use part of Saturday to get ready for Sunday.”
“I agree,” Papá said.
Mamá nodded. “Me too.”
The next Saturday, there was another game on TV.
“What should we do tonight?” Papá asked. “The game goes late again.”
“We could watch a movie instead,” Mamá said.
“Or we could go for a walk,” said Samuel.
“Is a walk OK with you?” Papá asked Mamá.
“Of course,” Mamá said. “It’s just nice to be together as a family.”
“And when we come home,” Samuel said, “we can all get a good night’s sleep. Then we’ll be ready for Sunday!”

I am in seventh grade. Where I live, there aren’t a lot of members of the Church, and some of the people cuss and wear immodest clothing. As the environment around me started to become worse, I realized that if I didn’t strengthen my testimony and my relationship with God, then the worldly things would swallow me up. I noticed that I needed to become closer to God and that I needed to do it now.
I decided that I would choose to be around people who would respect my standards and that I would work harder in school and on my talents. On top of that, I helped prepare family home evening lessons so our family could be closer, and we started reading the scriptures together every night. I also decided to read my scriptures every day and keep a journal about what I’m reading. I pray every morning and night and when I need help. Every Sunday I listen in church so that I can learn as much as possible and do my best to absorb the teachings of prophets and apostles that are shared there.
My life is much happier now, and I can feel the Spirit every day. I don’t know why I was so driven to become closer to Heavenly Father, but it may be because of the feeling I got from doing good things or the blessings that were promised. I’m so glad I took the extra leap to become closer to my Heavenly Father. I know He loves me so much and blesses me so greatly.
Daniel N., Virginia, USA

The third experience involves me. Since I am the slow one in the family, this experience is more ambiguous than the other two. Some years ago I had the opportunity to make a choice about the path I would take in my career. The two choices offered to me were both good and honorable. I wanted to travel both paths, but that wasn’t possible. I felt I knew which path would be best. It was a path for which I felt I was well suited and that appeared bright with opportunity. Nevertheless, I prayed to know if I was making the right decision. I was surprised at how hard it was to be open and submissive when I had a bias about what I wanted the answer to be. I did not receive a clear direction about which path to take, so I moved ahead and made the best decision I could.

Given that I was unsure what I should do, what is the point of this example? It wasn’t too long after I made my decision that the path I chose—which appeared bright and promising at the time—turned dark and difficult. I lay awake many nights wondering how to address the problems before me. Just because the path I chose did not turn out as I expected does not mean it was the wrong path. In fact, just the opposite might be the case. Perhaps I learned lessons I could not have learned otherwise or I rendered service that I needed to give. But as I look back, I feel that if the same situation were to occur again—that of having to choose between two good paths—I would be less inclined to think I knew which path was best for me and less sure I knew what the future would bring. I would be, I hope, more submissive, more trusting, more open.

I grew up in American Samoa as one of 13 siblings. All of us lived in a small three-bedroom home in the village of Leone. Christmas was always special for our family—it was a time to reflect on the birth and Atonement of Jesus Christ and a time to serve and give.
One Christmas season, after working hard and saving up, my parents bought each one of us a gift and placed them under the tree. We were so excited!
But before Christmas arrived, my older brother woke us up one morning with devastating news: Every single present had been stolen. Someone had broken in during the night and taken them all.
From that heartbreaking experience, a new tradition was born. Every Christmas after that, we’d sleep around the Christmas tree to protect our gifts.
As funny and tragic as that memory is, it taught me more than to be cautious about Christmas gifts—it reminded me how important it is to safeguard and prioritize our covenant relationship with Heavenly Father.

A few years ago, my friend’s two-year-old daughter climbed unnoticed into their small ­wading pool, lost her balance, and silently drowned. I do not need to tell you—I cannot tell you, it is impossible for me to tell you—the grief and shock and anguish that family experienced at the passing of their little girl. If there be no Christ, they never recover from it. Their little girl stays dead. There is no Resurrection, no hope for a reunion.

But there is a Christ, there is a Resurrection, and there will be a sweet reunion. That little girl lives on. She continues to be an influence on her family, and not merely through memories. If you were to see that family today, you would marvel at how “the sting of death is swallowed up in [Jesus] Christ.”30

Local leaders of the Church in Kiribati are deeply thankful for a new boat, aptly named Gratitude, which carried them to visit remote and far-flung islands across the vast Pacific Ocean.
Early this year, Area Seventy, Elder Iotua Tune, and his wife, Maii, along with John Kendall, president of the Marshall Islands/Kiribati Mission, and two young missionaries travelled in the Gratitude to minister to residents on the outer islands of Abemama, Aranuka, and Kuria.
“It is just a joy for us to be able to go and visit the islands,” Elder Tune said. “The people there are so happy that we came to visit, to bring them our love and the love of the Saviour, and we were so grateful we could go. Our boat fits the name.”
Their trip from Tarawa to Abemama Island, 78 kilometers away, took ten hours in the rough seas. When they arrived, they were surprised to find that a group of Abemema locals had eagerly awaited the entire day for them at the Church meetinghouse. They greeted their visitors warmly with big smiles, hugs and lots of food.
As part of their ministering, Elder Tune, President Kendall and the missionaries brought a much-needed laptop and monitor to donate to Chevalier Catholic High School on Abemama, where over 500 students from other small islands board.
“It was a humbling experience to see their computer lab. We walked into the building with the ‘computer lab’ sign over the door and there were no computers there. So, when we came with a laptop and a screen, the principal and the students were so excited! Now they have a computer in their lab,” Elder Tune said.
The group also delivered 10 desktop computers and a new laptop and monitor to the Seventh-day Adventist Church-run Kauma High School. The computer lab at Kauma High School had earlier been destroyed by fire.
Elder Tune and President Kendall expected to drop the computers off at the door of the school but were delighted to find that the entire student body was gathered to express their sincere thanks. The students further gladdened the visitors’ hearts by singing in their beautiful harmonic voices “Joy, Joy, My Heart is Full of Joy”.
“The feeling there was so powerful, it was almost overwhelming,” Elder Tune said. “We felt so much love and yes, we felt hearts full of joy.
“The Kauma High School principal, Tekemau Ribabaiti, is a wonderful, energetic man who is 78 years of age and still contributing so much. He was thankful for the computers, but even more so, he was touched that we would come so far to visit.”
Principal Ribabaiti told his students, “These people come with their hearts. We can feel their love. We are grateful for the computers, but we are more grateful for their hearts.”
Later in this visit, Elder Tune and President Kendall trained local Church leaders and buoyed up the Latter-day Saints at a devotional which focused on preparing the Saints for temple worship.
The people of Kiribati have long hoped for a temple on their land and look forward to the construction of the Tarawa Kiribati Temple, which was announced in 2020.
Young full-time missionary, Elder Baylor Johnsen, recalls the reaction of one of the members at the devotional. He said, “I stood up to address the gathering. When I started by explaining, ‘We are here to help you get to the temple’ a woman named Aribo began to cry tears of joy. As I saw the smiling faces of her and others, I felt the love of our Saviour for each of them. I left that island with the sure knowledge that God knows and loves all His children, even on the most remote islands of the sea.”

“I had the desire to one day become a missionary like them,” Bishop says. “Unfortunately, I was already too old to serve a full-time mission. So, I decided to use my gift as a communicator to spread the knowledge I acquired following my conversion.”
Bishop says he invited all his friends and acquaintances to meet with missionaries and come to church with him.
“Bishop is completely friendly and engaging,” Sister London Litchfield, former mission leader in the Côte d’Ivoire Abidjan West Mission, shared. “He doesn’t see any boundaries between friendships, which I think is part of what makes him such a great missionary. Quite frankly, he is an inspiration to us.”
Bishop hasn’t kept count of how many friends and acquaintances he has introduced to the gospel. But several years ago, he set a goal: to help bring three people into the Church every year. And he has done just that—every year, without fail.
Last year, he helped teach five people in January alone, so he increased his yearly goal to 10. But it appears he could have aimed higher. By June, he had helped 13 people join the Church.
He has spoken to many of his family and friends about the gospel already, but Abidjan is a densely populated city, and his friendly, outgoing nature allows him to strike up a conversation with anyone and everyone: banana vendors, families walking along the streets, or other drivers stuck in traffic with him.
“I first build a friendship with people I meet in my neighborhood, then as our relationship grows, I introduce them to the gospel,” he explains.
“We often think that they’re very difficult conversations to have,” said Wade Litchfield, former president of the Côte d’Ivoire Abidjan West Mission. “But they’re not at all scary to him. They’re natural to him.”
And Bishop’s advice to young missionaries or anyone for sharing the gospel? “Don’t be afraid. Show a good example. Be patient and let your love for God and your fellow men be above everything else.”
Bishop’s conversations about religion with friends and with strangers—the “friends he may someday meet”—stem from a place of caring. That genuine care for others is just part of his nature. And he may have perfected the most powerful, loving approach to missionary work in putting love, compassion, and a “mark of attention” above all else.

I climbed Long’s Peak one time with a group of men. Long’s Peak is 14,256 feet high, and as one gets above the thirteen-thousand-foot level, he finds, unless he is used to it, that his legs go numb about every fifth step. One can go four or five steps and then his legs go numb, and he has to wait for them to come alive before he can go farther. It took us about an hour and a half or two hours to go the last thousand feet.

Up on top I noticed that there was a ridge apparently running down in a direction which, if I could get on it, would save me the hours of going around the way we had come. Against the advice of my companions, I decided that I would take that shortcut. So I dropped down off the peak into a series of ledges which were waist high, just like a giant staircase, and before very long I was a thousand feet down. Then I ran into ice. During the evening before there had been an ice-storm up there. It was clear ice; one could not see it on the rocks, and the first thing I knew I slipped. I caught myself and then began to worry; for I could see when I got there that I could not make that ridge. There were glacial cirques on both sides thousands of feet deep, and I was caught. I cannot tell you how panicked I was. I was terribly frightened. I realized that the only way I could escape was to work my way, somehow, back to the top. Every so often I could hear a whistle blow up on top; that meant that one of the men was still up there. I will not describe the things I went through to start back upward to get out of the particular danger I was in, but finally I got to where I could move. I went up that thousand feet in twenty minutes without even losing my breath. You will say, perhaps, that it was adrenaline, but it was not; and when I got to the top there was Golden Kilburn, a man who was with us, waiting. He said, “I couldn’t leave. I knew you were in trouble, so I decided I would not go down this mountain till I found out where you were.” And I found out there the value of friendship, too, and of the loyalty and devotion of those who care for you.

Michelle scooped potatoes onto her plate. She looked around the table at her family. She was the youngest of 10 siblings, and some of them were in college now. She liked to hear them talk about what they were learning.
“What do you want to study when you go to college?” her brother asked. He was studying to become an engineer.
“I don’t really know yet,” Michelle said.
“You can be an engineer too,” he told her. “You’re really smart.”
Michelle liked that idea. She loved math and science. She was good at them too. She knew God wanted her to learn. And she knew that He would help her.
When Michelle got older, she did go to college to become an engineer. She worked hard to learn. Some classes were difficult. But Michelle never gave up.
While she was in college, she shared the gospel with her classmate John. Later they got married in the temple. Michelle graduated and got her master’s degree. She became a mother. She even got her dream job helping launch rockets to explore space! She was a leader and organized projects for her team.

I began to evaluate my testimony in my late teens, when I enrolled at the University of Utah as a science student. I didn’t want to believe the gospel just because my mother and father said it was true. I wanted to know for myself. I needed my own light. I didn’t set out to challenge the gospel, but rather to discover its truth for myself.
I was a science student at the university, and I had heard some people say that science and religion are not compatible, that no one who is well educated can also have a testimony of the gospel. But I found out that this is not true. As a youth striving to get my own testimony and also as an aspiring scientist, I was overjoyed to find how comfortably science and religion fit together. I would like to share several insights that show how they fit.
Some people point out that science deals only with tangible, observable quantities: we can measure them on scales, or read them on ammeters, or count them electronically. These critics charge that religion is less reliable because it deals with faith and revelation, which we cannot touch or measure. But this distinction is not really accurate.
For example, I wrote my dissertation at the University of California at Berkeley on pion-nucleon interactions. I never saw a pion or a nucleon. I couldn’t touch them. And yet I published a scientific article on them.
We learn about inductance or magnetic field lines or capacitance. Has anyone seen or felt inductance or a magnetic field or capacitance? No; we can only measure their effects. So scientists sometimes also deal with the intangible, and they do this without intellectual embarrassment.
The scientific method of discovering truth is to forget one’s prejudices and make decisions in terms of the available data. This method also applies to gospel learning. The Lord gives us several examples of using this method. Concerning tithing, he said: “Bring ye all the tithes into the storehouse, … and prove me now herewith … if I will not open you the windows of heaven, and pour you out a blessing, that there shall not be room enough to receive it.” (Mal. 3:10.) That is an experiment. Many people have testified that they’ve tried the experiment and that it works.
Alma also says, “Experiment upon my words.” (Alma 32:27.) He then goes on to compare the word to a seed that, if we will water and feed and nurture with faith, will let us know whether the message is good.
The Savior gave us another example. He said that if we want to know whether his doctrine is true and comes from the Father, we must “do his will.” Then, he promised, we “shall know of the doctrine, whether it be of God, or whether I speak of myself.” (John 7:17.) This is like the scientific method—simply judging on the basis of the data.
Some say that science has nothing to do with faith. But that is obviously not true. In the seventeenth century, the Italian astronomer Galileo invented telescopes that let him see farther into the heavens than man had seen before. He observed that the moon was not a smooth sphere shining by its own light. Instead, it has mountains and valleys, and its light is reflected. Galileo agreed with Copernicus that the earth moves around the sun, rather than being the center of the universe with everything turning around it.
Because these observations did not agree with the teachings of Aristotle and the Catholic Church, Galileo was subjected to a long trial and was punished for his beliefs. But he never lost faith in his discovery. His confident belief in what he had discovered was much like that confidence we call faith.
Of course, science and religion are not in perfect harmony. There is some disagreement over evolution, for example. Genesis, the Book of Moses, and the Book of Abraham tell us that God created the world, that he had a purpose in doing it, and that man is very important in that purpose. But these scriptures are not a handbook on how God created the worlds. They just say that he did it. Someday he will let us know how he did it. Science is theorizing on the how, but there need be no conflict when we remember what the Lord has told us and what he hasn’t.
I have faith that in due time the Lord will fulfill all the prophecies and predictions he has made and that these things will come about just as he has told us they will. Actually, if we have eyes to see, we have seen many of these fulfillments taking place in our day.
When I was a child, my family would put together a huge jigsaw puzzle each Christmas, one that would take a week to finish, with thousands of small, look-alike pieces. Each piece fit in only one place, and we could complete the picture only by placing each piece correctly. When the Lord allows the scientists to discover all their parts, and he sees fit to reveal his part, the “picture” of what scientists have learned and the “picture” of what God has done will be the same.
This is how I have come to look at the plan of the Lord. We need to stop worrying about each small piece and try to fit the whole picture together by keeping in mind the end result. The Lord knows where each piece goes and how it fits into his plan. Each of us should help by putting ourself, an intricate and important piece of that puzzle, in the proper place.

So, I started working towards bringing my children to the house of the Lord to be sealed as family. On Friday, August 15, 2014, Sister Kongolo and I went to the temple with our two children and they were sealed to us. It was an unforgettable experience. We spent three weeks in South Africa and managed to go to the temple four times a week and to attend at least two sessions each day. The Spirit we feel in the temple helps us to improve ourselves, and we can experience the reality, power, and hope of the Savior’s Atonement in our individual lives.

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

Perseverance is demonstrated by those who keep going when the going gets tough, who don’t give up even when others say, “It can’t be done.” In 1864 the First Presidency assigned Apostles Ezra T. Benson and Lorenzo Snow, along with Elders Alma Smith and William W. Cluff, on a mission to the Hawaiian Islands. From Honolulu they took passage on a small boat to the little harbor of Lahaina. As they approached the reef, the surf was running high and a heavy swell struck the boat, carrying it about 50 yards and leaving it in a trough between two huge waves. When the second swell struck, the boat capsized into the foaming sea.
The people on the shore manned a lifeboat and picked up three of the brethren, who were swimming near the submerged boat. But there was no sign of Brother Snow. Hawaiians accustomed to the surf swam in every direction to search for him. Eventually one of them felt something in the water, and they pulled Brother Snow to the surface. His body was stiff, and he looked like he was dead as they hauled him into the boat.
Elder Smith and Elder Cluff laid Brother Snow’s body across their laps and quietly administered to him, asking the Lord to spare his life that he might return to his family and home. When they reached the shore, they carried Brother Snow to some large empty barrels lying on the beach. Laying him face downward on one of them, they rolled him back and forth to expel the water he had swallowed.
After the elders worked over him for some time, without any indication of life, the bystanders said that nothing more could be done for him. But the determined elders would not give up. So they prayed again, with the quiet assurance that the Lord would hear and answer their prayers.
They were impressed to do something rather unusual for that day and time. One of them placed his mouth over Brother Snow’s in an effort to inflate his lungs, alternately blowing in and drawing out air, imitating the natural process of breathing. Taking turns, they persevered until they succeeded in inflating his lungs. A little while later they perceived faint indications of returning life. “A slight wink of the eye, which, until then, had been open and death-like, and a very faint rattle in the throat, were the first symptoms of returning vitality. These grew more and more distinct, until consciousness was fully restored.” With their perseverance and the smile of merciful Providence, all four of the Lord’s servants survived and were able to complete their missions.
Elder Snow went on to become the President of the Church. While serving in that office, he stabilized the Church’s funds by urging the members to pay their tithes and offerings.

Since my baptism 12 years ago, my life has changed significantly. For this reason my husband and I decided to share the divine light we have received with many different people. We started to invite the missionaries and some neighbors to our home for family home evening.
We made little invitation cards for our neighbors. Many people began attending who were interested in finding out what a family home evening was. Some were more interested than others, but most liked the activities and refreshments. One of the families we invited was even baptized!
As I have shared my happiness about belonging to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints through family home evening, my faith has also grown.

When I was in Brazil serving as a counselor to the Area President, I was sent to reorganize a stake that was having problems. The president of the stake and his first counselor were not worthy to serve. So the second counselor had been carrying the whole burden of that stake for six to eight weeks.
When I got there I found that this second counselor was a young medical student. He had been married not too long ago, and his wife was a nurse. He was very busy, yet he was carrying this terrific responsibility, made even greater by the terrible circumstances of the stake presidency. As I talked to him, I thought that this worthy young man, because he was a busy medical student, should not be called as stake president. It would be too much of a burden for him.
So that evening when I knelt by my bed I prayed, “Heavenly Father, bless Elder Milder and me that we will be inspired to know whom we should call as stake president and resolve the difficulties of this stake.”
A strong feeling came over me that said, “I’ve already shown you the new stake president.”
And I said to the Lord, “Oh, no you haven’t!”
All night long I wrestled with the Lord. I kept waking up with the impression that that young medical student should be the stake president, but I thought, “No, no, no. He should not.”
The next day when we started interviewing, Elder César Milder, an Area Seventy, and I agreed that the second counselor should not be the stake president, even though he was worthy, because it would be too much to give him. We had interviewed a bishop who would do well. Then we interviewed a man who had just moved into the stake. He had served in a stake presidency. He had been a bishop twice. He was financially secure.
When we finished the interviewing, I told Elder Milder, “Give me the three names of those whom you think we ought to consider.”
He gave me the name of the bishop and this man who had just moved into the stake. Then he said, “I still feel we cannot ignore this second counselor.”
And I said, “Well, those are the three names that we should consider, but I agree that we should not, however, call the second counselor to be the new stake president.”
So, in prayer, we presented the name of the man who had just moved into the stake, and I understood at that moment what a stupor of thought was (see D&C 9:9). We did not get a confirmation at all. We prayed about the bishop and did not get a confirmation.
I said, “Well, I guess we’d better present this second counselor’s name before the Lord and see what He thinks.”
A powerful witness overwhelmed us. Our bosoms really did burn within us. Tears flowed down our faces as we received that confirmation.
So we met with him and his wife. I told him the reasons he shouldn’t be the stake president, then I said, “But apparently the Lord doesn’t care about any of those reasons. Therefore, on His behalf I extend the call to serve as stake president.” He accepted.
Later, while in Salt Lake City for general conference, I met with Elder Russell M. Nelson of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. After the meeting he said, “I’m being assigned to visit a stake conference in Brazil, but not to reorganize the stake. I’m not sure why I’m being sent. Do you know anything about this stake?”
It was the same stake where I had called the second counselor to be the stake president, so I told Elder Nelson the circumstances of the stake president being called.
He said, “You know, Elder Wood, we do not usually call medical students to serve as stake presidents.”
I said, “I didn’t know that, but I believe it, and I would not have done this on my own.”
After the stake conference, Elder Nelson came to Recife, Brazil, where I was living. When he got off the plane, he said, “Elder Wood, you did the right thing. That man was indeed called of God, and he has made a great difference in the stake.”

When Wilford Woodruff was a boy, he went fishing as often as he could.
Wilford: Hey Azmon, look at this! Two fish on one hook!
Azmon: Wow, Wilford! They must really like those bird-feather flies you’ve been making.
He and his brother Azmon were known as the best fishermen in Farmington, Connecticut.
Wilford also had a secret island in the middle of his fishing stream. When his father didn’t need help at the flour mill or the saw mill, Wilford went to his island to think.
He wondered about God and religion and what Heavenly Father wanted him to do.
Years later, when Wilford Woodruff heard the missionaries explain that prophets and apostles were again on the earth, he was filled with joy. Wilford joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Soon after, the Prophet Joseph Smith called him to be an Apostle and to serve a mission to England with the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles.
In England, Elder Woodruff learned that a large group of people called the United Brethren had gathered to worship and to ask God for more knowledge of truth.
Elder Woodruff: John, this is inspired! The Lord sent me to Hereford to teach these people.
Elder Woodruff’s success with the United Brethren was even more astounding than his boyhood success with fishing. In two days he baptized six hundred people!
Constable: I have been ordered to arrest you, Elder Woodruff, for preaching to the people.
Elder Woodruff: But I have a license to preach the gospel, sir. If you will sit in this chair until the meeting is over, we will talk about this misunderstanding and get it settled.
By the end of the meeting, there was nothing left to settle.
Constable: I, too, wish to be baptized, Elder Woodruff.
Four ministers: So do we.
Elder Woodruff returned home and crossed the plains with Brigham Young, often providing food for the travelers with the new fishing rod he had brought from England.
And even when he was the prophet, President Wilford Woodruff could sometimes be found in a boat, happily fishing.
If you’d like to learn more about President Woodruff, do the “President Wilford Woodruff Crossword” on page 41.

Some people called him “Old Man Christiansen”; others called him “Deaf Christiansen.” I usually called him the “Willow-Whistle Man.”

It’s true that Mr. Christiansen was old—he and his wife were both over eighty. And if he could hear anything at all, he never acknowledged it. To make matters worse, he could speak no English. However, enough people in our town understood his Danish so that he got along fine. If he needed anything special, his daughter would get it for him.

Most of us were emigrants from Denmark and hadn’t been in this country very long, so Danish was the language that we spoke at home. But when I tried to talk to Mr. Christiansen in my best Danish, he always said, “I can’t understand English.”

Every spring I’d see him come past our place, going toward the mountains. Later I would see him coming back, carrying a bundle of willow branches. I knew what was coming, and I could hardly control my anticipation. I knew that it would be but a short while before Mr. Christiansen would knock on our door and present me with a willow whistle that he had just made.

Usually I didn’t wait for him to bring it. As fast as I could, I’d run over to his workshop in back of his house. I’d watch him cut the willows to the size that he wanted, then cut a notch marking the place where the sound would come out. He made an angled cut for the mouthpiece. Next, after he’d cut through the bark all the way around, he’d tap the bark gently all over with the knife handle. Then, at the right moment—known only to him—he’d hold the willow branch firmly and twist off the bark. The insides of the whistle had to be shaved a little to allow for air movement. When he finished the whistle, he smiled and handed it to me. I blew hard, and a wonderful sound came out.

I loved watching him, and I loved the special smell of the bark and the slick feel of the wood as he took off the bark and shaved the inside wood. I was always amazed at how quickly he could finish one, and I was especially pleased that the first whistle that he made each spring was mine. I hoped that someday Mr. Christiansen would invite me to go with him to hunt for the willow branches.

He had five grandsons, and, of course, he made a whistle for each of them. You can be sure that the day that they came to get their whistles, there was a lot of whistle blowing and tooting. They would run all over the yard, blowing like fury.

From the sixteen-year-old to the four-year-old, each had powerful lungs, and they really gave it all they had. Then I’d get my whistle and join them, each of us trying to blow the loudest and shrillest blast. It’s a good thing that Mr. Christiansen was so hard of hearing.

And then, wonder of wonders, one spring day Mr. Christiansen asked me to go along with him to search for willow branches. I felt especially honored because, as far as I knew, no one had ever accompanied him on these treks—not even his grandsons.

We walked about a mile toward Cottonwood Canyon, to where several clumps of willows grew along a fork in Cottonwood Creek. Pointing to the left, Mr. Christiansen told me to go look for suitable willow branches. He started up the creek to the right. I began cutting willows and soon had an armful. But when he came back and looked over my pile, he said, “No good—throw them all away.”

I started to protest. In fact, I made quite a long speech in Danish.

“You know I can’t understand English,” he told me with a faint smile.

When we got back to his workshop, I watched him go over the willow branches that he’d gathered, carefully selecting the best ones. And as before, he handed me the first whistle that he made.

I resolved that one day I’d learn to select the proper willow branches and make whistles for myself, and, if I became good enough, I’d make some for my friends too.

The next spring Mr. Christiansen didn’t gather any willow branches. During the winter both he and his wife had become very ill, and their daughter had moved them to her place. Mr. Christiansen passed away in early February. Mrs. Christiansen was alive in the spring, but she was still very ill.

Their house stood vacant. The blinds had been pulled down, and the walks hadn’t been swept. Through the window of Mr. Christiansen’s workshop, I could see his tools all hanging neatly, just as he’d left them. The barn was empty. It was as if the buildings were silently dreaming of the past and wanted no one to interrupt their dreams.

Yes, I did go out to try to find some good willow branches, and I even brought two home and tried to make them into whistles—but it didn’t work. For one thing, my heart wasn’t in it. I kept thinking of Mr. Christiansen standing near the fork in Cottonwood Creek the year before and saying, “You know I can’t understand English.” I missed him a lot!

I was too young then to realize how fortunate I had been. There was a difference of about seventy-five years in our ages, yet we had been good friends. And though few words had ever been spoken between us, I had learned a valuable lesson from him: In anything worthwhile that you attempt to do in this life, you must first prepare yourself mentally. Then you must obtain the correct equipment and materials for the job. Whether you are running a business or finding the correct willow branches for whistles, it still makes good sense.

My own inspiration as a teacher often comes from students. And this inspiration doesn’t just occur in the classroom. I’ve often said that my favorite assignment is to give away scholarships to deserving students. One such student was a single mother with four children who received a scholarship from a local business leader. At a luncheon honoring the donor, this single mother said:

Because of this scholarship, I will graduate next month. June will be one of the happiest months of my life because I will start paying income tax for the first time in several years. Yes, I’m excited to pay tax again instead of receiving it in welfare payments. People think I’m crazy, but it’s true.

Students like this one inspire me. They breathe life into my soul.