Gospel Story Finder

In the mid-1960s, missionaries working in the Magdalena section of Lima, Peru, enjoyed stopping at Teresa Gai’s small store for a cold drink and cheerful chat. The little bodega occupied less than 75 square meters, and the shelves on its walls were stocked with a limited variety of canned and packaged foods. To its owner, the visits of the gregarious missionaries brought back memories of happier times.

Before World War II, Teresa’s family had enjoyed a comfortable living in their native Italy. For a year, Teresa had been the equivalent of today’s Miss Italy. But the government confiscated the family’s properties, and they were forced to flee their beloved homeland. Teresa eventually found her way to Peru, where she was married and bore a son. In time, Teresa’s husband passed away, and her only son married and left home.

Teresa busied herself by operating her bodega, with its modest two-room apartment in the rear, from early morning until late in the evening seven days a week. She welcomed the opportunity to befriend and offer moral support to the missionaries, who were far from their homes. And the missionaries welcomed the opportunity to share their gospel message with Teresa.

As the missionaries began to teach Teresa, she felt the spirit of their message. But she was troubled about whether she could keep the Sabbath day holy. Sunday, after all, was a big day for her little bodega. The missionaries encouraged her to attend church with them, but she resisted, not wanting to commit to closing her business on Sunday. After much thought, she promised, “I will go to church with you next Sunday.”

A few days later, much to her distress, Teresa realized she had promised to close her bodega and go to church the day before New Year’s—her biggest, most profitable business day of the year! She had already planned to close on New Year’s Day, which meant her store would be closed for two profitable days, only to open on Tuesday, her least productive day of the week.

She wondered how she could get out of her commitment, but to Teresa Gai, a promise was a promise. She closed the store and went to church with the missionaries. She enjoyed the services but couldn’t help thinking about the people going elsewhere to buy food for their New Year’s Eve gatherings.

Sunday afternoon and evening, from her little apartment in the rear, she could hear her customers knocking on the steel roll-down door over the front of her store. It was hard to ignore them. People depended on her. Would they understand? Would they ever come back to her bodega? With no income for two days, where would she find the money to restock her shelves that week?

With considerable apprehension, Teresa opened her bodega Tuesday morning. To her amazement, she had sold more goods and taken in more money by the end of the day than she had on any other single day since opening her store. She felt strongly that the Lord had blessed her because she had kept his day holy. Teresa never again opened her bodega on Sunday.

Partway through a worn notebook of Teresa’s daily sales, a heavy line is drawn across the page. Daily totals after the line show a significant increase.

“That line marks the day I was baptized,” Teresa said years later through tears. She was especially grateful for her testimony of the restored gospel and the many spiritual blessings that enriched her life after she joined the Church.

Following her baptism, Sister Gai immediately plunged into Church activity with her characteristic enthusiasm and willingly accepted callings to serve. In the gospel she found great joy, which she radiated and which buoyed the spirits of those around her, including the missionaries who served in her section of Lima. Considering all the treats she gave the missionaries, it is a wonder she stayed in business.

In 1986 Sister Gai attended the dedication of the Lima Peru Temple. The temple gave her one last opportunity to give unselfishly to others. Sister Gai, then nearly 80 years old, gratefully accepted a calling to be a worker in the beautiful new temple.

“I was excited about going on the Hole-in-the-Rock trip with our stake so I could see for myself the places that have been talked about,” said Cheyenne Johnson. “Walter Joshua and Elizabeth Kinney Stevens, my great-great-grandparents on my father’s side, were newlyweds. That trip was their honeymoon, and I think it must have been more honeymoon than they wanted since it was supposed to last six weeks and it lasted six months.
“Grandpa Stevens drove the first wagon down through the Hole. Also on my mother’s side of the family, great-great-grandparents Benjamin and Sarah Perkins were on that trip. Grandpa Perkins and his brother Hyrum had been miners in Wales and they were responsible for blasting out some of the places where they needed to build roadways down through the Hole. One place known as ‘Uncle Ben’s Dugway,’ was named after Grandpa Perkins. Platte D. Lyman, another great-great-grandfather on my mother’s side, was also on the trip. His wife Adelia stayed in Fillmore to have a baby who was born while the group was at the top of the Hole. He was carried through the Hole-in-the-Rock a few months later. That baby was my great-grandfather, Albert R. Lyman, who later married Mary Ellen Perkins, and they were the first settlers in what is now Blanding. They had 15 children, my grandmother being the 15th. Grandpa always kept a journal and wrote many stories and books. I was anxious to see the country where he had been a cowpuncher and to see his name carved in the rock at Lake Canyon. I felt a special closeness to him there.”

The tools the Lord uses are diverse. He is not always going to speak to your mind or to your heart. If you want to know the truth, sometimes you act in confidence. This is known as indirect revelation. In time, the Lord will often directly share with you that you acted upon the truth.

Another story to illustrate this process. There was a time in which I participated in a hiring committee. I prayed to find the right person. Someone that needed the job and who could benefit my place of employment. A colleague had recommended someone to me. I told this person that the position would open in a few weeks, and I would let them know—and I promptly forgot to follow up. We opened the position, and we had gone through the entire process and had extended the offer. Just as the candidate accepted, my colleague stopped by my office. Knowing that I forgot about his recommendation, I felt awful. The conversation quickly changed when, with a smile on their face and they said, “I told you this candidate is great.” At that moment, the Spirit testified to me that we had hired the right person. I felt at rest.

My family and I had been on a cruise, and I had become really sick. Unfortunately, we didn’t have much medicine with us and were not near any local doctors to get the help I needed for my infection and the pain I felt.
One night I felt tremendously sick. The little medicine we had was not working. I could not sleep, and my moans and groans were waking my brothers and sisters. After all that my parents and I could do, my father asked, “Do you want a blessing?”
I had never had a priesthood blessing because of an illness before. I didn’t know what to say. I thought it would help, but I was still not sure. “Please, Heavenly Father,” I prayed, “please let the blessing work.”
“Sure, I would love one,” I weakly said to my dad.
During the blessing I had a wonderful feeling inside, despite all my pain. Very slowly I felt the pain go away, and suddenly I felt very tired. I could tell that my infection had not gone away, but the pain left. After the blessing I was filled so much with the Spirit I was unable to speak.
I now know that priesthood blessings are given to help us through life’s troubles. I know what to do now when I am asked the question “Do you want a blessing?”

After I had served as an elders quorum president, a branch president, and a bishop over a period of five years, we moved to a new ward. My wife was soon called to be the Relief Society president. She went to her first meeting with the bishop while I chased our two youngsters up and down the halls and through the parking lot and cultural hall. I had my first experience with waiting. I waited one and a half hours. When Mary came out of the bishop’s office, I had one boy in my arm and the other by the hand. I didn’t have the courage to say anything, but I just gave her a look that said, “Do you realize you’ve kept me waiting an hour and a half?”

All she did was raise five fingers and say, “Five years.” That is how long she had been waiting for me. Then I began to realize it was going to be my job to support my wife in her calling just as she had supported me in my callings.

I remember some years ago, our family seemed to be limited to three children as my wife was not able to become pregnant again. She questioned why and started to blame herself. She prayed day after day. Our children noticed her sadness, and they felt sad too.
Finally I called our children together. In council, we decided to have a special prayer. I prayed; then each child prayed in turn. We had a wonderful feeling, and the Spirit of the Lord was there. Our children believed that their mother would have another baby. Approximately 10 months later, our fourth child was born. What joy we felt and what a testimony that was to my wife and me and our children.

Many nights my choice is between doing scripture study or homework first. On those nights when there is too much to do, I get a little prompting to put away the homework, put my faith in the Lord, and spend my more awake time in the scriptures. It is pretty safe to say that every time I have chosen to study spiritually first, the Lord has made sure my other work was taken care of on time.Michelle Nielson, 17Basin City Second Ward, Pasco Washington Stake

When I moved into a college dormitory in Khon Kaen, Thailand, I noticed a blue book in the corner of the room. I never picked it up, and the book was still there when I moved out of the dorm many months later.
After graduating from college, I returned to my hometown of Kalasin. One day when I was visiting a friend, I saw a blue book on top of his TV—a book that reminded me of the one in my dorm room. “Where did you get that book?” I asked my friend. He said missionaries had given it to him. I said I had seen a similar book but that I didn’t know anything about it. My friend had not read it either.
Picking up the book, I finally read the words on the cover—“The Book of Mormon: Another Testament of Jesus Christ.” Then, opening the book randomly and finding Jacob chapter 5, I began reading about a tame olive tree and a wild olive tree. Although I did not really understand the meaning of the allegory, reading it gave me a happy feeling.
As the days went by, I found that I wanted to read more of the book, so I returned to my friend’s house to borrow it. When I arrived, my friend was talking to two missionaries. They introduced themselves as Elder Reid and Elder Haroldsen and made an appointment to visit me. They came as promised and shared with me their belief in Heavenly Father’s plan. As they spoke, I could feel the love of the Father.
At their invitation, I attended church on Sunday. Although there were only 10 people in attendance, I felt a love for the Kalasin Branch, and I agreed to come again.
I was baptized on 21 March 1999 and soon began working with the missionaries. As I watched the missionaries trying to spread the gospel, I could feel God’s love for His children.
Two months after my baptism, my older sister gained her own testimony and was also baptized. A month later my niece was baptized too. With help from the members, our little branch soon tripled in size, with about 30 members attending church regularly.
A year after my baptism, I received a call to serve a full-time mission in Bangkok, Thailand. My older sister also received a call to serve in the same mission.
I know that it wasn’t luck or coincidence that I became a member of the Lord’s true Church. I know that Heavenly Father really has a plan for me and that He began preparing me to be a missionary from the first day I opened “that book” and read about His vineyard. What a wonderful privilege to go out into that vineyard to look for my brothers and sisters and share the book and the gospel that changed my life.

While serving a mission, I had many opportunities to use the musical skills that I had learned. I relished the many opportunities to sing and play the piano and played nearly every week in sacrament meeting. I will always remember listening to those faithful Guatemalan members singing the hymns. I taught members new hymns that they weren’t familiar with. I taught some basic piano lessons. My companions and I would sing to the people we were teaching. Even if we sang off-key, the Spirit was always there to touch the hearts of the people.

“Come on, Fynn. It’s time to go!” Johan said.
Fynn’s brother, Johan, was waiting impatiently at the front door. He didn’t want to be late for school.
Fynn frowned. He didn’t want to go to school. His family had just moved to a new house. It was his first year at school, and he hadn’t made any friends at school yet. He missed his old friends.
“I’m scared!” Fynn said, running to his mother. “Why do I have to go to school?”
Fynn’s mother gave him a hug. “It’s going to be OK. Let’s say a prayer,” she said. “There’s always time to pray.”
They knelt down and asked Heavenly Father to help Fynn. Then Fynn and his brother went to school. The day went a little better.
Every morning after that, Fynn knelt down and said a prayer asking Heavenly Father for help.
Slowly, things got better. Fynn made a friend, and he wasn’t scared anymore. After a while, Fynn started liking school.
One day Fynn and his brother were walking to school, and Fynn felt happy. He noticed the sun shining. He thought about all the fun things he was learning. Suddenly, he stopped walking.
“I forgot something!” he said to Johan. Fynn ran back to their house.
His mother looked worried when he ran inside.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“I forgot to pray!” Fynn said. He knelt down. He wanted to thank Heavenly Father for helping him.
After ending his prayer, he gave his mom a hug. “There’s always time to pray!” he said.
Fynn smiled. His mom smiled. And as Fynn ran to catch up with his brother, he thought maybe Heavenly Father was smiling too.

Before she joined the Church in 1962, Sister Daggi, now a member of the Miraflores Ward, Viña del Mar Chile Archupallas Stake, found herself newly married and wondering which church was right.
One night she dreamed about people from around the world, and she saw unusual white clothing. The next day, at the home where she was employed to help with cleaning, she recognized the same clothing drying on the clothesline.
Her employer told her the clothing was associated with the temples of the Mormon Church. Sister Daggi was soon meeting with missionaries who had come from around the world to open her spiritual eyes to the light of the gospel.
Sister Daggi loves the gospel of Jesus Christ, and she used to read her scriptures faithfully until she went blind.
“When I lost my sight, I prayed to be able to retain His word,” she recalls. Retaining His word was important to her as a symbol of spiritual vision.
And though she must now study the gospel in other ways, Sister Daggi believes “the word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path” (Psalm 119:105). She is a living example of the Savior’s promise: “I am the light of the world: he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life” (John 8:12).
According to her husband, Juan, the Lord honored her sincere request. “Her mind captures things well. She could discourse for hours,” he smiles wryly.
“If you ask, you will receive,” she replies. “My spirit still has very good vision.”
The experiences Sister Daggi has had seeking to maintain both her physical and spiritual self-reliance since losing her eyesight bring to mind the blind man in the Gospel of John about whom the disciples asked, “Master, who did sin, this man, or his parents, that he was born blind?”
The Savior replied, “Neither hath this man sinned, nor his parents: but that the works of God should be made manifest in him” (John 9:2–3).
The works of God have been made manifest in Sister Daggi’s life. Despite being without sight, she has seen many miracles and can testify that “we walk by faith, not by sight” (2 Corinthians 5:7).
One Sunday evening the family’s home teachers visited. The family was struggling through unemployment at the time, and that night she had only a half cup of rice, a little bit of oil to cook it in, and two small tomatoes. But appreciative of these faithful home teachers, she asked them if they would like to stay for dinner.
“My daughter asked how I could do that,” Sister Daggi recalls. She told her daughter to set the table. Then she went into the kitchen and prayed, “Lord, Thou fed 5,000. I’m asking only for seven.”
“That rice fed seven people,” she testifies.
Sister Daggi knows that though her physical eyesight has gone dark, there is a greater light by which to see.
Isaiah taught that “the sun shall be no more thy light by day; neither for brightness shall the moon give light unto thee: but the Lord shall be unto thee an everlasting light” (Isaiah 60:19).
“Jesus talked about people who could see but were blind. It is the same today,” Sister Daggi laments. “There are miracles all around us, but so many don’t see them.”
Sister Daggi is grateful for the many blessings she enjoys and strives to live Peter’s admonition to “shew forth the praises of him who hath called you out of darkness into his marvellous light” (1 Peter 2:9).
“I’m content. Heavenly Father gave me a wonderful companion. We went to the temple and were sealed,” she says. “My life is full of miracles. Spiritually, I can see just fine.”

Two years ago, while visiting Santiago, Chile, I was very much impressed by Daniel Olate, a young man who often accompanied the missionaries. I asked him to write to me, and with his permission I will read to you part of his recent e-mail: “I just turned 16, and Sunday I was ordained to the office of a priest. That same day I baptized a friend; her name is Carolina. I taught her the gospel, and she regularly attended church and even received her Personal Progress award, but her parents would not allow her to be baptized until they got to know and trust me. She wanted me to baptize her, so we had to wait for a month until Sunday, when I turned 16. I feel so good to have helped such a good person to be baptized, and I feel happy that I was the one who baptized her.”

It was our usual Sunday School class circus. Dennis was trying to balance on the back legs of his chair and tipped over, pulling the guys on either side of him down as he fell. Roger had some new jokes to tell, and Allan was doing tricks with his face. Elaine and I were writing notes to each other. The rest of the class was much the same, either laughing at the boys or providing their own entertainment. I had no idea that something the teacher would say that day would change my life.
The year we were 14, we didn’t quite know who was going to be our teacher each week. Each new teacher would give up and refuse to teach us again. But then we got one teacher who stuck with us, each week trying to give a lesson that we would listen to. This particular Sunday, our lesson had been on Joseph Smith. Just before the end of class, our teacher turned to us and said, “Joseph Smith was 14 when he prayed and got an answer to his prayer. You are 14. You can pray and get answers to your prayers too.”
Somehow that really hit me. The thought that I could pray and get an answer about something really important interested me.
I had been raised in the Church, baptized at eight, and went to church every Sunday and to every activity during the week. But I still needed to know for myself that the Church was true. My parents, my grandparents, my teachers all said that it was true, but I needed to know for myself. I decided to take my Sunday School teacher’s advice and pray about it.
That night, as I finished asking for blessings on my family, I asked the Lord if the Church was true. I waited for the answer—nothing. I was a little discouraged. I wanted an answer right away.
I still kept going to church, listening to the lessons, participating in Mutual activities, giving family home evening lessons. Every night I prayed to know if the Church was true. Still nothing.
Then one night, after many weeks of nightly prayers on the subject, I was feeling really bad that I hadn’t received any type of answer to my prayer. I talked to my Heavenly Father like I would talk to my own father and told Him how much I needed this answer. I explained how hard I was trying to find out what was right. I finished my prayer and was still kneeling when a sentence came into my mind. It wasn’t really a voice, but it was a sentence that had not been there before. I heard, “This is a good place for you to be.”
I had a wonderfully comfortable feeling. I still didn’t know for sure that the Church was true, but I knew that the Lord was aware of me and answered my prayer. He told me that church was a good place for me to be. I knew that if I kept going to church, to Mutual, and seminary, and continued to pray, that eventually my prayer would be answered completely.
My answer was just the first step, but it was a step that led to more answers.

One summer during my own college years, I worked at a job that required me to commute about 15 miles each way. To economize, I carpooled with a young man who was a devout born-again Christian. I came to love this man’s devotion in the cause of Christ, and in time he revealed to me that he had once been a very accomplished figure skater. When I asked him why he no longer engaged in the sport, he told me that he felt he was doing it for his own glory rather than for the glory of God. I could not help but be impressed by his willingness to give up what he loved because he felt it was keeping him from following the Savior.

Once at a Special Olympics baseball game, they adopted a team that was losing by an impossible margin. The team members had given up—until they found themselves with a real clown cheer-leading squad. “We’d find out the name of the guy up to bat and then we’d start yelling, ‘Come on, Charlie, you can do it. Come on, Fred!’ In that one inning they more than doubled their score. They still lost, because it was the last inning, but when they left there they were so excited that they were just in heaven.”

“Oh no! Here comes Pedro!”
Everyone at school knew that Pedro was a bully. He was big, and he was mean! He called other kids names, took their lunches, and chased them around the school yard. No one wanted to be around him.
Pedro walked by Lucas and his friend, Arthur. He called them “losers” and pushed Arthur.
Lucas was tired of Pedro being so mean. Without even thinking, he shouted, “Stop it, Pedro!”
Lucas couldn’t believe it. He’d just stood up to the biggest bully in school!
Pedro stormed up to Lucas and grabbed his shirt. “What did you say?” Lucas’s heart beat so fast it felt like it would jump out of his chest! “I’ll give you one warning,” Pedro said. “But you’d better watch out!” He shoved Lucas and walked away.
After that, Lucas did his best to avoid Pedro, but Pedro always found him. He kept Lucas off the swings, pushed him during dodgeball, tripped him in the cafeteria, and always said mean things.
One day Lucas and Arthur were playing with Arthur’s football. Pedro jumped out from behind a tree and grabbed it.
“Please give it back,” said Arthur.
“Who’s going to make me?” Pedro pushed Lucas into a tree and laughed.
Lucas could feel his stomach twist in knots. He was so angry! “You know what, Pedro?” Lucas said. “You’re the meanest kid I know! Nobody likes you. Everyone wishes you’d go away forever!”
Pedro stopped laughing. Lucas felt great about what he said … until he saw the look on Pedro’s face. Was he about to cry? Pedro quickly looked down and walked away.
Lucas instantly felt terrible. For the rest of the day, no matter how hard he tried, Lucas couldn’t get rid of the terrible feeling. That night, he tossed and turned in bed. He kept thinking about how sad Pedro had looked.
“How could Pedro feel bad?” Lucas thought. “He doesn’t care if he’s mean to other kids. I had to say something, right?” The more Lucas thought about it, the more he realized he was right to stand up for himself and his friend. But he was wrong to say those mean things.
Lucas knelt by his bed and asked Heavenly Father to forgive him. He told Heavenly Father that he never wanted to hurt anyone’s feelings ever again. He wanted to be kind. When Lucas said “amen,” he knew what he had to do.
After lunch the next day, Lucas found Pedro standing against a wall by himself. Lucas was nervous. What would Pedro do? Lucas took a deep breath and walked over.
“Um, I’m sorry about yesterday.”
Pedro looked surprised. “You’re sorry?”
“Yes. I said some really mean things to you, and I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”
Pedro stared down at his shoes. “It’s OK.”
The bell rang. Lucas started walking back to class. He felt so much better. But there was one more thing he wanted to say. He turned back around. “We could play football at recess tomorrow if you want.”
A small smile crossed Pedro’s face. “That sounds good.”
After that, things got better with Pedro. He was still a bully sometimes, but he wasn’t as mean. He even played with Lucas a few times at recess. And it was actually fun! At the end of the school year, Pedro told Lucas that he was moving away. Then he said something that really surprised Lucas.
“Thanks for being my friend,” Pedro said. “Even when I wasn’t nice.”
The warm feeling in Lucas’s heart let him know that being kind is always the right choice.

A few weeks ago, our family experienced the hand of the Lord several times over, but first I want to back up and show how the hand of the Lord played a significant role in preparing for my family’s situation.
Years ago, individuals made decisions to pursue a degree in medicine. Some became cardiologists, some nurses, some paramedics, and some lab technicians. I did not know the cardiologists, some of the nurses, or the lab technicians personally, but I have since met them.
I do know, however, the paramedics personally. One is my brother-in-law and one is my husband. They have both retired from their careers as paramedics but not from all their years of training and experience.
Each of these individuals chose their professions for various reasons, but one reason is common among all of them and that is to help others.
Fast forward now to a few weeks ago. My father who is 86, soon to be 87 in a couple of months, is in very good health. He keeps himself busy everyday with some sort of physical activity and he has never had any heart problems.
On this particular day, he had been working on a project outside the house and he became extremely tired and decided to go in the house and rest. While sitting in his chair, he started to have chest pains that radiated into his jaw.
About that time my sister and her husband arrived. They deliver meals on wheels every Wednesday and their last stop is always at my parents’ home where they join them for lunch. My father told my brother-in-law that he was not feeling well and described to him his symptoms.
Being an experienced former paramedic, he recognized these symptoms as heart-related and knew that he needed to act quickly. So, he loaded my father into his pickup and headed for the hospital in Rexburg.
After arriving at the hospital and after a variety of tests were performed, it was determined that my father’s heart was fine, no signs of a heart attack or abnormalities, but there was concern with the fact that his heart rate continued to drop to an alarming low rate.
The emergency room doctor knew that something more needed to be done for my father to regain his health.
Through his training and experience he knew that he needed someone who was specialized in heart issues, so he called a cardiologist in Idaho Falls. It was determined that he needed to be transferred to Idaho Falls for further assessment.
My mother and I were able to ride with my dad in the ambulance and were greeted by more professionals at the EIRMC hospital, and there it was determined that my father would need to have a pacemaker implanted.
Before being admitted to his room, he was given a priesthood blessing by my husband and another brother-in-law. The pacemaker implant procedure went well and the attending nurses, physicians, and lab technicians performed their duties very well, and my father was able to return home after a couple of days.
So, where was the hand of the Lord in all of this? First, He was a part of all of those involved with their schooling and training. They may or may not recognize it, but He was there every step of the way.
My sister and her husband’s desire to serve within the community created a habit of going to my parents each week on the same day, at the same time, which then allowed them to be there when my father needed them.
My brother-in-law’s training and experiences as a paramedic allowed him to recognize the signs of heart trouble and the ability to act quickly.
The ER doctor recognized that there was a need for a specialist to take over his case. And then all the other personnel who performed the implant procedure and those who performed patient care that helped my father get on the road to recovery.
My father could easily have passed away that day, but the Lord still needs him on this earth a little while longer. And so He put all these things in motion so that everyone was prepared to do their part and keep my father with us.

One of the most tender moments of my spiritual life was the day a woman, Rose Wallace Bennett, authoress of the Gleaner Sheaf, told me that as a little girl she was present in the dedicatory services of the Salt Lake Temple. She described also the day Wilford Woodruff had a birthday, his ninetieth, when it was a little girl’s privilege to take forward to him in the Tabernacle ninety roses in a setting of some eight thousand children between the ages of eight and twelve, all in white. They had gathered to honor him; and then as he had come into the building (under some pretense that there was need of an organ repair), they arose and sang, “We Thank Thee, O God, for a Prophet.” She could not talk about what it felt like to see his tears, or again, what it was like to be in the temple, without herself weeping. But what she said to me was: “Young man, my father brought me to the edge of City Creek Canyon where we could look down on the temple. I testify to you that there was a light around the temple, and it was not due to electricity.”

It was in my junior year here that I ran into the above scriptures and first pondered them. I must confess that I simply could not get my mind around them. Then one day some years later, understanding came.
I was one of a number of Church Educational System faculty to make presentations in a weeklong symposium held in Tempe, Arizona. That particular day I had gone to a nearby Laundromat to do some much-needed washing. As I was waiting for my clothes to dry, I read Doctrine and Covenants 93. Once again I was brought up against light and truth, but this time something happened. A number of scriptures slotted themselves into place and I understood. It is this understanding that I have chosen to share with you today.

In 1989, Jack Rushton was serving as president of the Irvine California Stake in the United States. During a family vacation on the California coast, Jack was bodysurfing when a wave swept him into a submerged rock, breaking his neck and severely injuring his spinal cord. Jack said later, “The instant I hit, I knew that I was paralyzed.”14 He could no longer talk or even breathe on his own.15

Family, friends, and stake members rallied around Brother Rushton and his wife, Jo Anne, and, among other things, remodeled a section of their home to accommodate Jack’s wheelchair. Jo Anne became Jack’s principal caregiver for the next 23 years. Referring to Book of Mormon accounts of how the Lord visited His people in their afflictions and made their burdens light,16 Jo Anne said, “I am often amazed at the lightness of heart I feel in caring for my husband.”17

An alteration to his respiration system restored Jack’s ability to speak, and within the year, Jack was called as Gospel Doctrine teacher and stake patriarch. When he would give a patriarchal blessing, another priesthood holder placed Brother Rushton’s hand on the head of the person receiving the blessing and supported his hand and arm during the blessing. Jack passed away on Christmas Day 2012, after 22 years of devoted service.

Once in an interview, Jack observed: “Problems will come into all of our lives; it’s part of just being here upon this earth. And some people think that religion or having faith in God will protect you from bad things. I don’t think that’s the point. I think the point is that if our faith is strong, that when bad things happen, which they will, we’ll be able to deal with them. … My faith never wavered, but that didn’t mean that I didn’t have depressions. I think for the first time in my life, I was pushed to the limit, and literally there was nowhere to turn, and so I turned to the Lord, and to this day, I feel a spontaneity of joy.”18