Gospel Story Finder

Last March, as you remember, devastating rock and mud slides engulfed six small towns in the mountains east of Lima, Peru. All of these towns were within the Lima Peru San Luis Stake. The slide left 25,000 people homeless. Eighteen LDS families lost their homes completely, and 198 other families were left in dire need of food, clothing, and medical supplies.
The day after the slides, one member of the stake presidency and two other Church members waded through waist-high mud and debris for five kilometers to assess the damage. They found that more than three hundred people, members and nonmembers, had taken refuge in the Chosica chapel.
The following day, the stake presidency called a meeting of their eleven bishops and branch presidents. They made many assignments to furnish needed supplies. They asked each ward and branch to furnish work teams to go to the homes of members and help them clean up.
The stake presidency resolved to handle the problem without seeking help from outside stakes. They soon found that they could not handle it all alone. They went to their Regional Representative and asked him to coordinate economic help from other stakes in the region. The Saints of Peru rallied together.
As an example, the Iquitos stake sent thirteen crates of clothing, each weighing thirty kilos (about sixty-six pounds). Other stakes and wards donated food, bedding, and mattresses.
Selling quilts and refreshments, young women raised more than three hundred dollars. One young priest, a senior at his high school in Lima, led a group of twenty-eight of his classmates, all nonmembers, to Chosica to help with the cleanup.
The stake Relief Society presidency visited the area frequently and instructed the sisters in classes on hygiene, sanitation, nutrition, and “how to organize family living in a tent.”
The stakes did not intend to seek assistance from the general welfare funds of the Church. Stake leaders called in all fast-offering reserves from their wards and branches. They asked stake members to participate in a special fast on 29 March 1987 to raise funds that would help cover the expenses.
Some bore tender testimonies. Let me share just two. Sister Guadalupe, a nonmember, lost everything. Then in the shelter of a little room in our chapel, she gave birth to a baby boy. She stated that the Lord had helped her escape. She learned that everything of the world is temporary and can be lost. She thanked the branch and the Church for opening its doors to her and for the assistance she received.
Sister Leonora de Contreras, a Relief Society president, said she knew the gospel was true. She expressed thanks for her husband, who holds the priesthood and is a pillar of strength. The catastrophe destroyed the fruits of their lifetime of labor in less than thirty minutes. She recalled the words of their son who is serving in the Peru Trujillo Mission. As he left home, he said to her, “Mami, whatever happens, if you need help, ask the Lord, and stay close to the Brethren.” She expressed appreciation to stake leaders for their assistance.

I am an elder, serving a full-time mission. One day I picked up the New Era and read “Why Obey” (Nov. 2002) by Elder Athos M. Amorím. At that time, I wanted to return home, but I began to read this article with curiosity. When it mentioned the number of missionaries serving a mission and how they are sacrificing their time and money for the Lord, I thought about my selfishness. I read about how serving a mission is obeying our Father in Heaven and how sacrifice brings tremendous blessings. From reading this, I have decided to stay on my mission to help the Lord with this work. Thank you very much for this inspirational magazine.Name withheld(an elder who now “loves his mission!”)

One particular promise the Lord made through President Thomas S. Monson, then a member of the Quorum of the Twelve, is a story worth repeating. It is the story of the how those who live behind the Iron Curtain obtained a temple. It is a story of how the Lord directed the path of President Monson It is the story of a people who trusted in the Lord and applied reason and revelation to bring about the Lord’s purposes. President Monson was assigned to go beyond the wall to Eastern Germany in 1968. He reported:
“When I made my initial visit beyond the wall there was a time of fear on the part of our members as they struggled in the performance of their duties. I found the dullness of despair upon the faces of many passerby’s and bright and beautiful expression of love emanating from our members. In Goerlitz the building which we met in was shell shocked from the war, but the interior reflected the tender care of our leaders in bringing the brightness and cleanliness of an otherwise shabby and gloomy structure. The Church had survived both the war and the Cold War which followed. The singing of the Saints brightened every soul. I was touched with their sincerity. I was humbled by their poverty. They had so little.
My heart filled with sorrow because they had no patriarch. They had no wards or stakes they were just branches. They could not receive temple blessings neither endowments nor sealings. No official visitor had come from Church headquarters in a long time. Members were forbidden to leave the country. Yet they trusted in the Lord with all their hearts. In all their ways they acknowledged Him. This was evident in their prayers. I stood at the pulpit,” said Elder Monson, “and with tear-filled eyes and with a voice choked with emotion I made a promise to the people. If you will remain true and faithful to the commandments of God, every blessing any member of the Church enjoys in any other country will be yours.
That night as I realized what I had promised, I dropped to my knees and prayed. Heavenly Father, I’m on Thine errand, this is Thy Church. I’ve spoken words that came not from me, but from Thee and Thy Son. Wilt Thou therefore fulfill the promise and the lives of these noble people. There coursed through my mind the words of the great Psalm, “Be still and know that I am God, the heavenly virtue of patience then was required.”
And little by little the promise was fulfilled. First patriarchs were ordained, then lesson manuals were produced in their native language. Wards were formed, stakes were created, chapels and stake centers were begun, completed and dedicated. And then the miracle of miracles. A holy temple of God was permitted, designed, constructed, and then dedicated in Freiburg. Finally after an absence of fifty years approval was then granted for full time missionaries to enter the nation for local youth to serve elsewhere in the world. Then like the wall of Jericho, the Berlin Wall crumbled, and freedom with it’s attended responsibilities returned.”
Elder Monson continues, “All of the parts of the precious promise of the twenty seven years earlier were fulfilled save one. The tiny Goerlitz branch where the promise had been made still had no chapel of its own. Now even that dream became a reality. The building was approved and completed, dedicated in1995 27 years after the promise. Sister Monson and I along with Elder and Sister Dieder Uchtdorf held a meeting to dedicate the Goerlitz chapel. Same songs were sung as were rendered twenty seven years ago. The members knew the significance of the occasion, marking the total fulfillment of the promise. They wept, they sang songs of the righteous were indeed a prayer unto the Lord and had been answered with a blessing upon their heads.

I am familiar with a ward that struggled with an ineffective ward council. It was difficult for the bishop to embrace the direction found in Handbook 2 because he was comfortable in his ways and liked his old patterns. After much counseling and training by a loving stake president, however, the bishop softened his heart, repented, and began in earnest to organize the ward council as instructed. He watched training videos available at LDS.org, he read sections 4 and 5 of Handbook 2, and he acted upon what he learned.
Members of the ward council quickly embraced the changes, and a spirit of love and unity settled on them as they focused on strengthening individuals and families. In every meeting, they spoke at length about investigators, new converts, less-active members, and members with needs. Their hearts began to be drawn out to these brothers and sisters, and miracles began to happen.
The bishop reported that almost immediately after these changes were made to the ward council, previously unknown less-active members began to attend church. These members said they suddenly felt moved upon to return to the Church. They said they had received a clear and compelling impression that they needed to once again associate with the Saints. They knew they would be loved and that they needed the support members would offer.
The bishop shared with me that he is certain Heavenly Father was just waiting for him to follow the counsel he had received and organize the ward council as instructed before He could put the desire into the hearts and minds of these less-active members to return to activity in the Church. The bishop realized that he needed to create the loving, nurturing environment these members needed before the Spirit would lead them back. His words remind me of the experience of Peter the fisherman:
“And [Jesus] entered into one of the ships, which was Simon’s, and prayed him that he would thrust out a little from the land. And he sat down, and taught the people out of the ship.
“Now when he had left speaking, he said unto Simon, Launch out into the deep, and let down your nets for a draught.
“And Simon answering said unto him, Master, we have toiled all the night, and have taken nothing: nevertheless at thy word I will let down the net.
“And when they had this done, they inclosed a great multitude of fishes” (Luke 5:3–6).
As we listen to and follow the counsel given us by modern-day prophets, seers, and revelators—true “fishers of men”—and as we inspect and mend our nets while serving, our capacity to hasten the work of salvation will be greatly increased and we will become instruments in Heavenly Father’s hands to gather His children.

One of the young women in our ward was taking a test at the local high school. As she looked up, she saw one of her friends cheating. Their eyes made contact. Embarrassed, the friend shrugged her shoulders and mouthed the words “I need the grade.” Somehow this young lady had lost her eternal vision—it is not grades but godhood that is our destination. What good does it do to be accepted to the most prestigious university but forfeit our exaltation in the process? Every time someone cheats, he trades his spiritual birthright for a mess of pottage (see Genesis 25:29–34). In his shortsightedness he has opted for a dollar today rather than infinite wealth in the life to come.

It’d be nice to get the chance to do things over again, wouldn’t it? Well, some things. You might like to relive your happiest birthday or avoid your most embarrassing moment, but would you jump at the chance to repeat a project that involved around 100 hours of hard work?
Chanelle Cann of West Jordan, Utah, did. After finishing years of work to earn her Young Womanhood Award, she turned around and did it all over again. The revised Personal Progress book and new medallion were her inspiration.
The General Young Women presidency encouraged young women already working on the old program to transfer their hours and finish up with the new program. They didn’t expect young women to earn both awards. After doing all the work once, what was Chanelle thinking?
Actually, she was thinking ahead. She wanted the chance to grow with the right attitude, so she’d be more prepared for her future.
“When I was younger I worked on the Personal Progress program because it was there. When I got to be a Laurel, I did it because I wanted to,” she said. “I wanted to do the new program because I knew I would be doing it for the right reasons.”
Chanelle was proud of her first award, but she understood that personal progress isn’t something you need a book to do.
When her stake president introduced the changes to the Young Women program, Chanelle picked up a copy of the new Personal Progress book and headed straight home to plan.
Her mom, Evelyn, said Chanelle stayed up well past midnight that night mapping out how she could earn the new award and how many hours per week she could work on it, starting the next day.
“I told her you could just pay and get the other necklace instead,” Chanelle’s mom said, “but she said, ‘No, I want to really earn it.’”
Chanelle didn’t want another necklace, she wanted a chance for growth. She would be graduating from high school soon and wanted to be prepared for the future. But she didn’t need a book to get what she wanted.
“All the things I did were things I needed to learn for the future anyway. I used the new program because I knew something that came from the prophet could give me good direction,” she said.
Her projects included attending the temple several times a week to do baptisms for the dead, volunteering at an elementary school, writing poetry about the Savior, recording songs with her guitar, hand stitching a temple quilt, serving at a rest home, making family home evening files for her future family, and learning to cook.
Chanelle said the cooking project didn’t turn out so well. She made some pies that were more of a learning experience than a gourmet dessert. She’s going to keep trying anyway.
As it turns out, Chanelle makes a better writer than a chef. Her favorite project was writing poetry. She also loved writing about her experiences in her journal because it helped her realize how much she actually learned from doing the projects with the right attitude.
“Putting my feelings down on paper helps me recognize what I believe in and makes me more grateful,” she said.
To earn the second award, Chanelle did 70 hours of projects and completed 42 other value experiences, on top of school and work.
“It took a lot of time, but it was worth it,” she said.
It isn’t her two medallions hanging around her neck on the same gold chain that light up her face, though. Her glittering smile reveals how much she’s grown. She said doing both programs strengthened her testimony, helped her recognize her potential, made her aware of all her blessings, and prepared her for the future.
“I think I try harder now to keep the Spirit with me and recognize what I do in my life really does affect me,” she said.
Chanelle has a lot of goals for the future, including an education, a mission, and getting married in the Salt Lake Temple. She said she’s grateful for the chance she had to earn the Young Womanhood Award—twice, because it prepared her to accomplish those goals.
Perhaps one of Chanelle’s poems said it best:
“The simple things you do
Determine what the future will bring to you.”
Now, Chanelle is always looking for new ways to grow. Earning both awards helped set a pattern of personal progress that will last her a lifetime.

Still another example, closer to home, is that of Elder Richard L. Evans, deceased, formerly of the Twelve, who for many years was the voice of the Spoken Word on Temple Square. Several years ago, in attending a conference in the Salt Lake Bonneville Stake, he brought with him detailed instructions about a new program. Realizing his words on administrative matters would carry little weight because of his sketchy experience in that field, he reviewed the material in the most brief way and explained that the handout he intended to leave behind would provide the details. He then made this comment, which I have never forgotten: “I know what I am. I am a microphonist and a pulpiteer.”

It was 11 p.m. when I heard my father’s car door close outside. He was home a little early tonight. Dad was a college professor with a full load of night classes to teach, so his normal arrival time wavered somewhere between 11:30 p.m. and midnight. And since I left for my early-morning seminary class before sunup, I usually only saw him for a few flurried minutes each night. That is, if I saw him at all.
Tonight I was brushing my teeth when he popped his head through the bathroom doorway. “How are you?” he asked. Through a mouthful of toothpaste I mumbled a response, then asked how his day had been.
“Great,” he said boisterously. “The plane got in a few hours ago, and the bus dropped us off at the school. After that I came right home.”
Plane? Bus? Was I missing something? He must have noticed my vacant stare, because he quickly added, “I was at a conference in Indianapolis all week.”
He was? Why didn’t I know about this? I realized with a pang of shame that my father had just spent five days on the other side of the country, and I hadn’t even noticed he was gone.
As my sister and I got older, it seemed like the whole family got busier until we were, as Mom liked to say, “like ships passing in the night.” We barely had time to blurt out “good morning” before we rushed in separate directions. But even with our classes and after-school activities, my sister and I couldn’t compete with Dad at being busy. His workday was longer than anyone else’s. Even when he was home, he spent hours at the computer, writing textbooks and revising lecture outlines.
Because Dad wasn’t a member of the Church, we only saw him on Sunday mornings over our bowls of breakfast cereal. By the time the rest of the family came home after our Church meetings, he had usually disappeared to his office at the college to get more work done.
I had always thought my family was a regular busy family, and I figured that feeling out of touch with my dad was just a part of such a high-speed life. Until that night over the bathroom sink, I never really considered the idea that we might be too busy.
A few weeks later, the missionaries from our ward came to my house for dinner. Dad, of course, was missing in action, but after we had eaten, the missionaries began to ask us some questions about Dad’s feelings toward the Church. Had he ever taken the discussions? Had he read the Book of Mormon? Did he ever come to Church with us? My mother and I answered the questions as best we could. Then the elders said that they’d really like the chance to teach my father the gospel, and they wanted to enlist our help.
Although I was usually enthusiastic about thinking up ways to help share the gospel with my father, I leaned back into my chair and frowned. “What can we do?” I asked skeptically. “We hardly ever see him.” I explained to the missionaries about Dad’s overly hectic schedule, and they nodded understandingly.
Finally one of the missionaries, who also had a nonmember father, said, “My dad was the same way when I was in high school. He was such a workaholic that I felt like I never saw him, and we just drifted farther and farther apart. I got even busier after I joined the Church.
“I just decided,” he went on, “that it was important for my dad to know that I loved him, that my joining the Church didn’t make me love him less. Since I didn’t see him very often, I started leaving him notes. Nothing special. I just wrote a quick note telling him that I loved and appreciated him, and I made sure I put it where he’d find it.”
“Did it work?” I asked skeptically.
He smiled and shrugged. “Why don’t you find out for yourself?”
It was a challenge I couldn’t refuse. That night, after I was in my pajamas and Dad still hadn’t gotten home from work, I pulled out a pad of sticky notes and wrote a quick message: “Dear Dad: I hope you had a good day. I love you.” I signed my name at the bottom and stuck the note to his computer screen, knowing Dad almost always made a stop at his computer before he finally got to bed.
The next morning when I plodded into the bathroom still half asleep, I noticed a piece of yellow paper clinging to the mirror. “Dear Melody,” it read. “Thanks for the note. I love you too. Love, Dad.”
I smiled, something I rarely did at 5:30 in the morning.
For the rest of that year before I went away to college, I left notes for my father a few times a week. Nothing elaborate, just a few lines to tell him what was going on in my life, to wish him a good day, to tell him I loved him. He almost always responded with another note attached to my bathroom mirror or my bedroom door.
As the weeks went on and our note exchange became a regular thing, it became easier to put into words how I really felt about my dad. I realized that even though I didn’t spend as much time with him as I wanted to, I really did love him. And I realized that even though he worked a lot, he really loved me too. Having a true friendship made us more eager to do things with each other, too, like trips to museums or into the city on Saturday afternoons.
Over the years I kept a few of the sticky notes from Dad. I even taped one to the mirror in my dorm room at college just to make it feel like home. When I finally went back home for Christmas, I noticed that Dad had done the same. A piece of yellow paper with the words “Dad, I love you. Melody” was firmly attached to the top of his computer desk.
My father never joined the Church. But when he died suddenly several years ago, the yellow sticky note was still on his computer desk, right where it had been for five years. In the weeks after his death, I felt grateful that I had found a way to communicate with Dad even when we were both at our busiest. I didn’t have to wonder whether he knew that I loved him. I knew that he looked at my words every day.

Juan sat quietly in the flickering light of the fire. He watched his mother grinding corn on her metate (grinding stone) for the evening meal. Juan’s father was busy too. He was carving a wooden ball for Juan. The even, polished surface gleamed yellow in the firelight.
“Will it be ready for the race on Friday?” Juan asked.
“Yes. I will finish it tomorrow,” his father replied.
Juan smiled. He and his two teammates would run even better with such a well-made ball.
Juan was an Indian of the Tarahumara tribe. He lived high in the Sierra Madre Mountains in northern Mexico. His family home was near Barranca del Cobre (Copper Canyon).
Juan’s father, Dionisio, was a great man. He was the best runner in the village—maybe the best in all the mountains! Wearing his “lucky” belt of deer hooves, he’d won many races. For the Tarahumara people, running was one of the most important things in life. In fact, they called themselves Rama Mure (foot runners). Men and boys ran along the rocky mountain paths, kicking before them a wooden ball carved from an oak tree root.
Juan was fifteen now. He’d been running almost since he could walk, and on Friday he and his teammates would run a big race against a team from the village of Pilares. Juan wanted to run as well as his father ran.
All the Indians knew Dionisio. “¡Kawira-ba (hello)!” people called whenever Juan’s father passed them during a race. It was nothing for Dionisio and his team to run for two days and nights without stopping for anything except a drink.
Juan loved racing at night by torchlight, but right now the race he was most interested in was the race against the Pilares team. Although it would only be twelve miles, it was still important. To Juan and his friends, every race was important.
There were other important things in Juan and his father’s life besides running. They planted corn, beans, and squash. They also tended their seventeen goats, corraling them each night. Each of the goats was named and was well known by the family. To have so many goats to provide milk and cheese was good. Seldom would Juan’s father kill one of the animals, for they were too precious to use as meat. Meat was provided by the deer and chipmunks of the mountains.
At the end of each day Father would take the handmade violin from the pegs on the wall and draw the bow across the strings, bringing forth sweet, sad songs.
In all things Juan’s father was his ideal. He did everything well—running, hunting, growing crops, playing music, carving from wood. Sometimes Juan became discouraged. He could not carve well—except the flesh of his own fingers! He could beg only mournful cries from the violin. And running? Not yet. Maybe this race against the Pilares team would be a turning point for him. Not only would my winning the race make father proud, he daydreamed, but it would also mean that one day I might be a truly great runner!
Early the next morning Juan went with his father to move the corral. Juan knew that besides giving them cheese and milk, their goats also fed the earth. He knew that seeds planted in the place where a corral had stood grew into strong plants. Juan was glad for so much work that day, because he would have less time to think about the upcoming race.
Friday dawned, and Juan tried to quiet his excitement. His father had told him that too much fear or excitement could take the strength from his body.
Today was also a holiday. Juan’s people celebrated many holidays each year, and running was always part of the festivities. Mother had prepared cedar tea so that Juan could bathe his legs in it. All Tarahumara runners did this before running. They thought it kept away evil spirits.
On his left foot Juan wore a sandal, as did all the runners. The right foot—the kicking foot—was bare. A runner must be able to lift the ball and kick it with his toes and foot. Although the running must be swift, the ball must go ahead. A lost one meant a delay until another ball was put into play.
Finally the Pilares team arrived. The signal was given, and the two teams ran. Juan’s new ball was painted with a red stripe. First it was kicked by Juan, then by each teammate in turn. Up and down the steep, rocky path they went. The boys had run this trail many times. They knew when to send the ball swiftly ahead and when to slow down for curves in the path.
On and on they ran. Many of the villagers ran behind them to see the outcome of the race. Juan knew that his father was with them.
When at last they neared the end of the twelve-mile run, Juan found himself running side by side with a Pilares runner.
I must win! I must win! Juan told himself. He ran faster and faster. He felt power in his tired legs. He felt the wind of his own speed rushing through his hair. He felt he could fly! The runner from Pilares was no longer beside him. Juan ran alone.
Then the wind was gone.
Juan looked up from the rocky path where he had fallen. The runner from Pilares sped ahead.
It was Father who tended the deep cut in Juan’s knee.
“I lost! I will never be a great runner,” the boy declared mournfully.
Father stopped wrapping the cloth around Juan’s leg and looked at him. Then he spoke. “I don’t know how many races I lost when I was young, but I know I learned something each time I raced.”
“But you are the best! You are a winner. Everyone admires you.”
“Ahhh. It is because they do not remember the times I lost. They remember only the times I won. I remember both.”
Juan sat amazed. His father had once lost races!
“You are not a loser, my son. You are a winner learning how to win.”

May I share one personal experience with you in this regard. About eight years ago a handful of us, all Church members, gathered around a conference table in Orem, Utah. We challenged ourselves to see if we could help lift one million people out of poverty. We had no extraordinary insights or resources, just a desire to bless our fellow man and great faith. Today the organization we founded is currently helping lift over 5.1 million impoverished people around the globe. Never did such impact ever cross our minds. Yes, in a deep way I know as the Savior said, "all things are possible" to those who believe-even great works.

A young woman asked me in a conference setting something akin to a question many of you have this morning: How was she supposed to succeed in her first semester of law school and be a new Relief Society president too?

I started to say, “Good luck with that,” but, following an impression, I asked, “Who called you to do this impossible thing?”

“Heavenly Father.”

“Why?”

“Why did He call me? I suppose because I am just home from a mission and know how to work. Because He knew I would say yes. Because I can accomplish things, even under stress.”

I told her, “All, no doubt, true. But there is another reason”—which was a presumptuous thing for me to say since I did not yet know the reason.

But I said, “He may have called you to save you from law school. They are changing your mind down there, mostly in good ways. But while they are causing you to be able to defend every side of every argument, Relief Society will be reminding you that eternal truths are immutable.

“Law school teaches you that passion for your profession is critical to success. Relief Society service teaches you that the world is too much with us and that real joy is centered in Him.

“Law school will teach you to love ideas and to respect brilliant shapers of thought and theory. Relief Society will remind you that some ideas are better than others and that the philosophies of men pale alongside the ennobling intelligence dispensed through prophets.”

I saw that she was taking notes through misty eyes, weeping and nodding. Maybe I had simply guessed her needs and responded with words I had never before formed in my mind, but you would have to be me to understand why that explanation simply doesn’t add up. What are the chances?

In any event, those insights hold true whatever your major and whatever your calling.

It was a fall day in Wyoming. The majestic Tetons rising high into the blue sky were delicately mirrored in Jackson Lake—a breathtakingly beautiful setting for the beginning of a high adventure canoe trip down the 98 miles of the rugged Snake River. True to its name, the river curled its way through a wilderness area abundant with wildlife. There would be few roads and only occasional trails.
Excitement was high, and hearts seemed to be beating a little faster than usual as the 19 Scout leader fathers and their 16-year-old sons waited on the river bank at Moran to begin their canoe trip down the Snake River.
Two tanned, tall, river-experienced 19-year-old young men would be our guides—one at the head of the group and the other following close behind. Their every word of instruction and warning was caught by ears that were straining to learn. There was a bit of apprehension as they warned about whirlpools, with their circling current, that could take a canoe and its occupants down under. There was also the instruction about approaching and riding through the white water areas. The main word of instruction was, “Whatever you do, don’t unbalance your canoe.” We resolved and it was our intention that we would do everything the guides had instructed us to do. We would stroke evenly on each side; we would kneel up all the way so we could move easily and keep the canoe in balance.
As the leader responsible for the group, I seemed to be having some second thoughts as I listened to the safety precautions the guides were giving us. I remembered a newscast a few days before telling of a father who had fallen from his canoe while going through a rapid and had struck his head on a rock and had drowned before he could be recovered, even though he had his life jacket properly in place.
The lead guide gracefully slipped his canoe into the water and glided effortlessly out into the river. In turn, each canoe, with father and son in place, followed. It was a beautiful day—the fresh clear air was invigorating; the clear blue sky with an occasional white billowy cloud added to the beauty of the surroundings. The water was clear and the river flowed smoothly along. The spruce and pine trees, together with grass and shrubs, made each turn of the river one of artistic beauty. The first ten miles were so enjoyable that most of the fear and concern faded away.
As we looked ahead, we could see another stream emptying into the main river. We could see the whirlpool signs, and we became more alert as we approached the junction point. All of a sudden there was an excited cry ahead: “Look at the moose!” I wanted to see the moose, so I whirled around and caught a fleeting glimpse of it with its large flat antlers just as I was going headfirst into the Snake River.
The water was cold; the rocks were hard. I struggled to get to the surface. A thousand thoughts raced through my mind: “I wonder where my son Dave is. How will I find our canoe? Can I find my paddle?”
As I swam toward the shore, I caught sight of Dave right ahead making his way to the bank. I lost my hat and all of the suntan lotion and the dark glasses I had in my pocket. But I was glad to get out of the cold water and again get back in the canoe so we could keep up with the others.
After that, they could have said “Look!” at a thousand moose and we would not have turned around to look. We looked straight ahead. There were miles of rapids and white water, and we went safely through. We didn’t look to the left or to the right. In fact, one rapid was so severe that one canoe in trying to negotiate it tipped over backward.
The father was heavier than his 16-year-old son, and he was in the back. They had not intended to unbalance the canoe, but they did. They got wet just the same. Intention is not enough!
The Lord has said, “I, the Lord, am bound when ye do what I say; but when ye do not what I say, ye have no promise” (D&C 82:10).
Yes, again, intention is not enough.
On another occasion as Joshua was being installed as the leader of Israel to replace Moses, who was being released, the Lord gave Joshua the key. He said, “There shall not any man be able to stand before thee all the days of thy life: as I was with Moses, so I will be with thee: I will not fail thee, nor forsake thee. …
“Only be thou strong and very courageous, that thou mayest observe to do according to all the law, which Moses my servant commanded thee: turn not from it to the right hand or to the left, that thou mayest prosper whithersoever thou goest.” (Josh. 1:5, 7.)
Joshua was told to do according to all the law.
On another occasion with Helaman’s stripling warriors, their success was based on this same key.
“Yea, and they did obey and observe to perform every word of command with exactness; yea, and even according to their faith it was done unto them” (Alma 57:21).
They did “perform every word of command with exactness.” The key to their success was to obey every word and command. Yes, if we are going to draw upon the powers of heaven, intention is not enough.
We must obey every word of command with exactness. Remember these words of the Lord:
“I, the Lord, am bound when ye do what I say; but when ye do not what I say, ye have no promise” (D&C 82:10).
We must actually obey the law; intention is not enough!

“Betsy! Eliza! Wake up and get ready! We’re finally going to go.” Tommy called.
Betsy sat up and rubbed her eyes. “Go where?” she asked sleepily.
“Out west,” replied Tommy. “Brother Morley was just here, and he said our company would leave Winter Quarters this afternoon. We’ll have to hurry to get ready.”
“We have moved so many times,” Betsy grumbled. “Why can’t we stay here in our house with our garden and our friends?”
Betsy’s mother did not say anything at first. She walked over to the bed, sat down on the edge, and put her arm around Betsy’s shoulders.
“It’s been a long time, Betsy, since we left Nauvoo. You were six years old then; now you are almost eight. During that time you have been brave and I have been proud of you.
“In Nauvoo you left your home, your kitty, your clock, and your chair with the big round back. In Sugar Creek you gave your feather bed to Sister Johnson so that she could keep her newborn baby warm and comfortable. In Garden Grove you said goodbye to the log cabin your father built and the rope spring bed you helped to make. At Council Bluffs you waved goodbye to your father as he marched with the Mormon Battalion.
“Each time we moved, you left behind something that was precious to you. But each time we moved, we came closer to the place our Heavenly Father has prepared for us out west! Today we are leaving again. We’ll soon build homes and plant gardens in the valley, where we’ll have friends and go to school and serve the Lord the way he would like us to serve him.”
Betsy was thoughtful for a moment; then she looked up at her mother and asked, “What can I do, Mother, to help get ready?”
Betsy’s mother smiled softly as she answered, “We are almost out of match papers, Betsy. You may fold some. Where we will be traveling there are no stores, so our box of matches will have to last a long, long time.”
Eliza and Betsy folded small pieces of paper over and over again until the papers were thin and firm enough to light one fire from another. When they had folded a hundred of these, Betsy’s mother asked the girls to make twenty-five rag candles by tightly twisting pieces of cloth and wrapping them with string. These candles, soaked in grease and lighted, made a good light.
Tommy and Elija checked the wagons. Tommy took one wheel to the blacksmith for repair while Elija and Mother stretched new canvas over the wagons. When Tommy returned, they loaded the wagons and hitched up the oxen. Then Tommy and Elija climbed up in the drivers’ seats, and drove the two wagons to the square.
As soon as all those in the company reached the square ready to start, their leader quieted them and then gave some last-minute instructions. “As you know, Brigham Young and his company left several weeks ago. They are blazing the trial we will follow.
“Each night our wagons must form a corral by locking the front wheels of one wagon with the rear wheels of the next wagon until a tight circle is formed. We’ll keep the animals inside the circle.
“A bugle will sound at five each morning, at which time each family should gather for prayer. Then you will have two hours to eat and do your chores. At seven another bugle will sound to signal the wagon train to move forward.
“Tonight we will camp four miles from here, and tomorrow morning we’ll be on our way out west!”
Just then someone rode up beside Tommy’s wagon. The man handed Tommy a letter and said, “This letter for your mother was delivered to Brigham Young’s camp up ahead with mail from the Mormon Battalion.”
Mother hurriedly opened the envelope, scanned the letter, and then read it aloud:
“I know that you will probably be on your way by the time you receive this letter. It will not always be easy, but take comfort knowing you are not alone. The brethren will help you, and our Heavenly Father will be as close as you will let him be. I will meet you all in the valley.
“Tell Eliza and Elija that their father is well and sends his love.”
“It will be wonderful!” shouted Tommy. “We’ll all be together again.”
Tommy’s mother gave him a warm smile. “We really will be together, Tommy. This is truly good news.”
Just then they heard the bugle that signaled for the long wagon train to start moving. Betsy and Eliza waved to their friends who had come to the square to say goodbye. “We’ll be waiting to see you,” they called.
And the wagon train began its long journey out west.

Some time before I was called as a General Authority, I faced a personal economic challenge that persisted for several years. It did not come about as a consequence of anyone’s wrongdoing or ill will; it was just one of those things that sometimes come into our lives. It ebbed and flowed in seriousness and urgency, but it never went away completely. At times this challenge threatened the welfare of my family and me, and I thought we might be facing financial ruin. I prayed for some miraculous intervention to deliver us. Although I offered that prayer many times with great sincerity and earnest desire, the answer in the end was “No.” Finally I learned to pray as the Savior did: “Nevertheless not my will, but thine, be done” (Luke 22:42). I sought the Lord’s help with each tiny step along the way to a final resolution.

There were times when I had exhausted all my resources, when I had nowhere or no one to turn to at that moment, when there was simply no other human being I could call on to help meet the exigency before me. With no other recourse, more than once I fell down before my Heavenly Father begging in tears for His help. And He did help. Sometimes it was nothing more than a sense of peace, a feeling of assurance that things would work out. I might not see how or what the path would be, but He gave me to know that, directly or indirectly, He would open a way. Circumstances might change, a new and helpful idea might come to mind, some unanticipated income or other resource might appear at just the right time. Somehow there was a resolution.

Though I suffered then, as I look back now, I am grateful that there was not a quick solution to my problem. The fact that I was forced to turn to God for help almost daily over an extended period of years taught me truly how to pray and get answers to prayer and taught me in a very practical way to have faith in God. I came to know my Savior and my Heavenly Father in a way and to a degree that might not have happened otherwise or that might have taken me much longer to achieve. I learned that daily bread is a precious commodity. I learned that manna today can be as real as the physical manna of biblical history. I learned to trust in the Lord with all my heart. I learned to walk with Him day by day.

A private code would keep their secrets safe! She wanted something the other sixth graders wouldn’t be able to figure out, so 11-year-old Michelle Hansen decided to learn sign language. After memorizing the alphabet, she taught it to her friends, and for the rest of the year they had fun quietly communicating their thoughts, dreams, and plans.
When Michelle and her family later moved to Puyallup, Washington, the old gang was broken up, but Michelle retained her skill in sign language, never suspecting that this talent would someday help unite a class of nine-year-old Targeteers.
Michelle’s mother was called to teach the Targeteer A class in Primary, which included a deaf child named Kim Hunt. Sister Hansen was talking to her family about the situation, wondering what she could do to help Kim feel more a part of the group. Michelle, then 16, told her mother she knew some sign language and volunteered to accompany her to Primary and translate the lesson for Kim.
Beginning the second week, Michelle took five minutes each class period to teach the rest of the girls to say hello and to tell Kim their names. She gave them each a copy of the alphabet and continues to teach them as much as possible. Her younger sister, Hope, is also in the class and helps Michelle teach the signs.
Michelle has since taken two classes in sign language and has volunteered in the Seattle Washington Stake to interpret conferences and other meetings for the deaf. Because of her willingness and desire to share her talent to help others, Michelle has seen a little girl who was once only a silent observer at Primary become an eager, happy listener.

One day, Sister Escobar and Sister Flake followed a prompting of the Spirit and found themselves led to a pink house. José Luis, a blind man, answered the door and invited them into his home to share a scripture message. The sisters learned that his wife, Rosa, was not feeling well and was resting in another room.
When the missionaries taught José Luis about the Book of Mormon, Jesus Christ and His mission on the earth, he was eager to learn. He was so enthusiastic about what they taught that he asked for a copy of the Book of Mormon right away. He said he would have his sister read it to him or find a way to have a recorded version made.
The sisters told him when the church meeting was held on Sunday, and José was excited to come. He said he would be there the next Sunday and would bring his wife.
That Sunday, the missionaries were sitting in class when they felt impressed to leave the room. As they went out, they heard the shouts of José Luis and Rosa outside the building, struggling to find the church entrance. Rushing to help them, they realized that Rosa was also blind, and their hearts were touched by the couple’s vulnerability. It was obvious that the pair was relieved when Sister Escobar and Sister Flake found them. Everyone was grateful for the tender mercy that led the sisters to leave the class when they did. The ward members embraced José Luis and Rosa into their fold and were amazed that they would come on their own to church, despite their disabilities.
Visiting José Luis and Rosa at their home reveals another layer of their resilience. Despite their visual impairment, the couple manages daily tasks independently and even cooked a traditional Dominican meal for the missionaries. They were amazed to learn that Rosa’s illness makes it hard for her to stand for long periods of time, but she still manages to get things done.
As the sister missionaries continued to teach José Luis and Rosa, they saw the extraordinary ability of the couple to absorb and retain information. They understood everything and had it memorized after hearing it just once. They quickly grasped concepts such as the Restoration of the gospel and the Word of Wisdom. Their commitment was evident when the missionaries told them they would have to give up coffee as part of obedience to the Word of Wisdom, and they obeyed without hesitation.
The words of the Book of Mormon brought them obvious joy, and on June 28, 2023, José Luis and Rosa were invited to be baptized and enthusiastically accepted. They had received an answer to prayer that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was the true church of God on the earth and wanted to be part of it. José Luis and Rosa’s commitment and faith were unwavering, and their faith brought the Spirit to each meeting with the missionaries.
During the month before their baptism, the members came together to help the blind couple get to church every week. Their baptism on July 29, 2023, was attended by many members and acquaintances who showed their love on that special day. Encircled with this love, José Luis and Rosa expressed gratitude to a kind Heavenly Father for the opportunity to be spiritually born again. They were confirmed the next day in church and received the gift of the Holy Ghost. Now they never miss a Sunday meeting.
José Luis and Rosa are examples for everyone. The couple says if it weren’t for their loss of sight, they wouldn’t have learned as much. Their example of joy in adversity has helped other members to better understand what James meant when he said, “My brethren, count it all joy when ye fall into divers temptations [trials];
“Knowing this, that the trying of your faith worketh patience.
“But let patience have her perfect work, that ye may be perfect and entire, wanting nothing” (James 1:2–4).
José Luis and Rosa’s faith to follow and make a covenant with God changed their lives. Now they are preparing to enter the temple. They share the gospel and their testimonies with those they meet.
Sister Escobar and Sister Flake say, “We are very grateful to our Heavenly Father for the opportunity to share the gospel of Jesus Christ with these wonderful people. This experience changed our lives. We better understand what Jesus Christ meant when He taught, ‘blessed are all the pure in heart, for they shall see God’” (3 Nephi 12:8).

I remember the first time I swore. I was repeating a joke to some of my friends, and they all thought it was funny. It wasn’t like I was actually swearing, I thought. “I didn’t think you cussed,” one of my friends laughed. And I didn’t. At least not before then and, after that, not a lot. Not at first anyway.
Less than a year later, I was up there with the best of them—trading cutting remarks, swearing for effect, because people thought it was funny and acceptable, and hating myself more each time I did it. I knew it was wrong, but by that time it was a part of my speech pattern. My language got worse, and along with it went my character. I was in trouble at school and, although I still attended church most of the time, I stopped taking the sacrament.
I remember, too, the first time I tried to quit. A boy I liked at school told me he thought swear words were unladylike. So I promised myself I’d stop. And I did, for a while. Quitting was hard, especially since I had decided to quit for the wrong reasons. My resolve lasted about as long as a high school crush, and then I was back to my old ways.
Along with my unclean language came other bad habits and bad crowds. And when I finally decided to clean up my language, I was engulfed in other sins I needed to clear up. But this time I had decided to quit for the right reasons. Because I wanted to repent. I wanted to be clean in God’s sight, and not just to act ladylike.
Elder L. Tom Perry says if we reconstruct our sentences after we swear, minus the offending word, gradually our thought patterns and speech patterns will change (see New Era, Aug. 1986, 7). Substituting similar words that aren’t really swear words is nearly as bad because everyone knows what we meant to say. We need to replace the bad words or thoughts with something wholesome for this formula to work.
This was no short process. And it was hard—hard to regain control of my life and rebuild my testimony. Speech might seem like a small thing when there are so many other worse things we could be doing. My first offense seemed so innocent at the time. I realize now that the world tries to make sins—regardless of their size—look insignificant, but any sin offends the Spirit. And when the Spirit wasn’t with me, I wasn’t under God’s influence and I grew farther from Him.
Putting my decision into action brought the Spirit back into my life. I could again feel the Lord’s guiding influence, and He helped me with all the other problems in my life when I was sincerely trying.

Nearly a hundred young women and men in the Toa Baja Puerto Rico District sang as they pulled their handcarts up and over the steep hills of Monagas Park in the morning sunshine one day in March. Reenacting the trek of the Latter-day Saint handcart pioneers, the youth sang first in Spanish—“Como os he amado, amad a otros”—and then in English—“As I have loved you, love one another” (Hymns, number 308).
Stopping along the way in small groups at predetermined spots, the youth read of the experiences of Latter-day Saint pioneers. Several were weeping by the time they finished. The group moved on, singing, “¡Grande eres tú!”—“How great thou art!” (Hymns, number 86).
“We want our seminary students to realize that our sacrifices, no matter how great, are little compared to those of the pioneers,” says Alberto Zayas, associate CES director for the Caribbean. “Seminary helps our youth develop testimonies, so every branch on this island has a class, and two universities each have a Latter-day Saint Student Association.”

I have a friend who prays every day to meet someone who is prepared to receive the gospel. He carries with him a copy of the Book of Mormon. The night before a short trip recently, he decided not to take a copy with him but instead to carry what is called a pass-along card. But in the morning, a spiritual impression came: “Take a Book of Mormon with you.” He put one in his bag.
A woman he knew sat next to him on the plane, and he wondered, “Is this the one?” She rode with him again on the return trip. Now he thought, “How should I bring the gospel up?”
Instead, she said to him, “You pay tithing to your Church, don’t you?” He said that he did. She said that she was supposed to pay tithing to her church but she didn’t. And then she said, “What is this about the Book of Mormon?” He explained that it was scripture, another witness of Jesus Christ, translated by the Prophet Joseph Smith. She seemed interested. So he reached down into his bag and said: “I was impressed to bring this book with me. I think it is for you.”
She began to read it. As they parted, she said, “You and I are going to have to have more conversations about this.” What my friend could not know, but God did, was that she was looking for a church. God knew she had watched my friend and wondered what about his church made him so happy. God knew she would ask about the Book of Mormon, and He knew she would be willing to be taught by the missionaries. She was prepared. So was my friend. And so can you and I be.

When President Harold B. Lee was growing up in Clifton, Idaho, “money was dreadfully scarce” for his family. Their “farm produced generously, but grain and potatoes brought little” monetary return. Their “father augmented the family income by contracting for custom grain cutting, drilling wells, and building irrigation canals.” And so they had sufficient for their needs. “The Church provided entertainment opportunities” for the family.

“The Lee children did not know they were poor.” Their home was filled with love and laughter, reading, and music. Their mother was a skilled homemaker who made a very little go a very long way. Her children were always dressed appropriately for church. As an adult, President Lee recounted, “We had everything money could not buy.”