Gospel Story Finder

Then one evening a marvelous and unexpected event occurred during family prayers. My father said the prayer, and when the prayer was completed we all knew what was to transpire. With tears in our eyes we discussed our feelings. Yes, each had felt the same confirmation. We should go ahead with the transplant.

In retrospect, that decision may have been the greatest miracle of all. Logic and personal feelings just didn’t matter anymore; we knew what the Spirit had directed.

That evening I made a long-distance phone call to my brother Barry in Provo, Utah, and talked with him about the transplant. I explained to him the answer we had received and asked him to pray about it. But Barry eagerly accepted immediately saying he had prayed about it many times and was simply awaiting my call. I told him we could wait until June, but the next day he dropped his classes and came home.

After Barry arrived, however, the surgical team discovered that he had developed an immunity to Parrot’s Fever while serving his mission in Mexico, and they feared a reaction to the medications necessary after the transplant. To Barry’s deep disappointment, it was determined that his kidney was not transplantable.

About two weeks later, we had another of those extra special family home evenings. And again we felt impressed to proceed with a kidney transplant. Again I went to the phone and called a brother, this time my older brother, Craig. Again I received a positive response.

Within a week, Craig, his wife Penny, and their one-year-old son Jason flew in from California. That same afternoon I went to the hospital, and Craig was admitted the next day.

Our names were placed on the prayer rolls of six temples from London to Los Angeles by friends of the family.

The night before surgery we held family home evening in my hospital room. At one point I tried to tell the family that it didn’t seem worth the risk or sacrifice required of my brother to attempt that transplant. But Dad looked at me soberly, put a hand on my shoulder, and softly said, “We all feel that this is what the Lord wants, and your brother is proud to be able to do it. Remember, Brent, we’ll all live to see you running across the park lawn again, with that large grin of yours.”

Surgery began the next morning at 6:00 A.M. with my nurse giving me a sedative before the operation. At the end of the day I opened my eyes to see my parents close to my bed. I was back in my hospital room, and I knew everything was all right.

I remember seeing other members of the family briefly that evening. But I couldn’t find Craig. “How is Craig? Where is my brother?”

A familiar hand rested on my shoulder, and I heard my mother’s voice: “Brent, Craig is fine and your new kidney is fine, too.” With those words I went to sleep. “Thanks, Father in Heaven. Thanks, Craig. Thanks a lot, family.”

During those first few days after my transplant, I got a feeling that something was wrong when I looked at the troubled faces of my parents and brothers. All was not well with Craig. By the third day I was sure he had died and no one would tell me about it. Actually, he hadn’t died. But he was very ill and having a difficult time recovering from his part of the surgery.

On the afternoon of the third day, my father and brother carried Craig to see me. He was the color of a ripe banana. With a half smile on his face he said, “How’s it going, brother?” At that moment, seeing his pain and considering his sacrifice, I knew what love was and what having a family meant.

Two days later, the medical reports indicated that my body was rejecting the new kidney. It appeared that we had failed. Drastic medical measures were taken, but with little success. As it turned out, the most powerful aid of all was prayer. Etched deeply into my soul is the memory of many nights when family members knelt around my bed and one by one prayed to our Father in Heaven. I listened as my brothers wept, praying that I might live. Then, silently, none of us able to speak, we’d touch hands to say good-night. And they were good nights, for we each experienced the pure love of Christ.

My body’s rejection of the kidney was finally overcome; Craig, too, rapidly regained his health and strength. Today, my doctors report that I am one of the healthiest kidney recipients in history. I have a beautiful wife, two sons, and a daughter. Craig, now the father of three, lives a normal life surrounded by people who still don’t know why he made that quick trip to Seattle, Washington, several years ago.

I can testify that one of the greatest joys of mortality comes when a family is spiritually united in seeking the Lord’s aid and comfort. I am awed by the love displayed in my behalf. When I think about my family I think about the Lord, who is the true head of our gospel family. I think about his love, his devotion, and his willingness to sacrifice for us. And I feel that I have gained a special testimony and appreciation of the atonement of Jesus Christ, for I know what the love and sacrifice of an older brother can mean.

One of our daughters and her family recently suffered a tragedy. Their house burned down, leaving little in the place of all their worldly possessions. The blessing was that even though five of their six children were at home, their two teenage sons remembered the training they had been given, picked up the little ones, and ran from the house. All were safe. And they felt great comfort from their ward and neighborhood, who rallied around with food, clothing, and offers of help. Such a blessing it is to belong to “the household of God” (Eph. 2:19). No one simply turned away or sailed calmly on.

For this family, as for others who experience trials and grief, love and help were extended, along with priesthood blessings and the assurance from the Father of us all that “blessed are they who are faithful and endure, whether in life or in death, for they shall inherit eternal life” (D&C 50:5). They have the same promise given to Joseph that “thine adversity and thine afflictions shall be but a … moment” (D&C 121:7).

Throughout his journey, Elder Walker has witnessed many faith-building experiences that have deepened his testimony of the gospel. One such experience with a humble family in Tonga profoundly strengthened his faith in the power of sacrifice and obedience to the promptings of the Holy Spirit.
Elder Walker was on assignment in Tonga when he met a couple whose lives exemplified faith and devotion. This couple was known for their unwavering obedience to the Lord, consistently prioritizing His work, even at the expense of their own health and personal needs.
As he got to know them, Elder Walker learned that the husband suffered from a heart condition that required surgery, an operation that would cost $24,000 and needed to be performed in Australia. The couple could not afford the procedure or the travel expenses, but thankfully, a family member in Australia offered financial help.
Soon after arriving in Australia for the surgery, however, the man felt a strong prompting to return home, even before the operation. Trusting this spiritual impression, he returned to Tonga, where he was soon called as the stake president. His sense of duty replaced any consideration for his own wellbeing, and he postponed addressing his health concerns to focus on serving the members of his stake.
Elder Walker counselled with the couple, urging them to prioritize the husband’s health so that the Lord could continue to bless him and use him to care for his family and his stake. Shortly after, the man was able to receive financial assistance and returned to Australia for health tests and medical advice.
Following some of these tests, Elder Walker received an intriguing message from a family member in Australia. The family member reported that during one scan, the technician noticed something unusual—something resembling a metal stent appeared exactly where the pain originated. When asked if the husband had undergone any surgery before, the family member assured the technician that he had not.
This unexpected finding was a sign of divine intervention, a miracle that allowed the husband to continue his service without needing the costly operation.
This experience left a lasting impression on Elder Walker, strengthening his testimony of the miracles that occur when we exercise faith and obey the promptings of the Holy Ghost. The humble couple’s willingness to sacrifice and trust in the Lord exemplifies the truth in 2 Nephi 27:23: “For behold, I am God; and I am a God of miracles; and I will show unto the world that I am the same yesterday, today, and forever; and I work not among the children of men save it be according to their faith.”

I used to look at the Old Testament in sort of the same way I looked at fairy tales—neat stories that didn’t really relate to my life. Separated from me by thousands of years of history, they seemed far removed from reality. However, my seminary teacher loved the Old Testament, and his enthusiasm and humble testimony began to instill in me a greater reverence for these scriptures.
One night as I was studying, I came across this verse: “And the Lord spake unto Moses face to face, as a man speaketh unto his friend” (Ex. 33:11).
I read these words, and at first I wasn’t particularly influenced by them. The Lord spoke to Moses. Of course He did. It seemed only natural for the Lord to appear personally to one of His prophets.
Then I prayed, and I really started to think about that scripture. I knew Heavenly Father wouldn’t appear to me that night, but maybe I could try to speak to Him “as a man speaketh unto his friend.” It was then that I felt His love envelop me.
As I prayed, I restated in my own words what I had read: “Moses spoke to Thee face to face, just like a friend.” I stopped. I said it again and again.
Then it hit me. The realization was so profound yet so simple. Moses saw God face to face. Suddenly Old Testament times were not so distant, and I realized that Moses had been a mortal—just like me. The scriptures came to life in my mind; I knew that Moses had actually lived and breathed, that he, too, had experienced challenges and struggled with a lack of confidence. Yet he talked to the Messiah, the Jehovah of Israel, his Lord and Redeemer—my Lord and Redeemer—in the same manner I spoke to my own earthly father.
“Heavenly Father,” I prayed again, “more than anything else, I want to return to Thee!” I closed my prayer and crawled into bed, feeling His love more tangibly than I ever had in my life.

I am a convert and the only Church member in my family. I’ve learned that one of the sacred ordinances is baptism for the dead. I went to the temple on a tour, and while listening to the host talk about the ordinances, I felt a still, small voice tell me to go to the family history center to submit a temple ordinance request for my mother, who had passed away. I was so happy when the FamilySearch account later confirmed that her temple work was done. It strengthened my testimony, and I know that one of the reasons why we are here on this earth is to help our ancestors receive the true gospel of Jesus Christ.
Marvin S., Philippines

Today was the Primary program, and Brayden was nervous. He had practiced and practiced his part. But he was scared to talk in front of so many people.
“I don’t want to go to church today!” Brayden said. “It’s too scary to say my part.”
Mom gave him a big hug. “I know it can be scary to talk in church. But you have practiced a lot. I know you can do it.”
“Should we say a prayer?” Dad asked. “We can ask Heavenly Father to help you be brave.”
Brayden nodded.
Mom, Dad, and Brayden knelt down and folded their arms.
“Dear Heavenly Father,” Mom prayed, “please help Brayden be brave. Help him to be able to say his part.”
After the prayer, Brayden got into the car, and they all drove to church.
Brayden was scared as he sat on the stand with the other kids. But he remembered the prayer. It helped him feel a little better.
Soon it was Brayden’s turn to talk. He looked out at the people smiling up at him. There were Mom and Dad! He took a deep breath. Then he said his part loud and clear. He even remembered all the words.
“You did such a good job,” Mom said after church. “It looks like our prayer was answered.”
Brayden smiled. “Heavenly Father helped me!”
They walked back to the car together. “How did you feel inside?” Dad asked.
“I was still scared, but it was OK,” Brayden said. “And I felt good after I said my part.”
“Do you know what that good feeling was?” asked Mom.
Brayden thought for a moment. “I think it was the Holy Ghost.”
“I think so too,” Mom said. “And even though you were scared, the Holy Ghost helped you be brave.”

President Packer was present when President Henry D. Moyle (1889–1963) of the First Presidency extended a call to a man to preside over one of the missions of the Church. President Moyle said to the man, “We don’t want to rush you into this decision. Would you call me in a day or two, as soon as you are able to make a determination as to your feelings concerning this call?”

President Packer relates what happened:
“The man looked at his wife and she looked at him, and without saying a word there was that silent conversation between husband and wife, and that gentle almost imperceptible nod. He turned back to President Moyle and said, ‘Well, President, what is there to say. What could we tell you in a few days that we couldn’t tell you now? We have been called. What answer is there? Of course we will respond to the call.’
“Then President Moyle said rather gently, ‘Well, if you feel that way about it, actually there is some urgency about this matter. I wonder if you could be prepared to leave … on the 13th of March.’
“The man gulped, for that was just eleven days away. He glanced at his wife. There was another silent conversation, and he said, ‘Yes, President, we can meet that appointment.’
” ‘What about your business?’ said the President. ‘What about your grain elevator? What about your livestock? What about your other holdings?’
” ‘I don’t know,’ said the man, ‘but we will make arrangements somehow. All of those things will be all right.’”

Usually this kind of urgency is not necessary. Those who are called to positions like these are typically afforded adequate time to put their affairs in order. In this case there was urgency, and the couple responded with faith, devotion, and absolute commitment. What a beautiful example of how each of us should respond to a call.

For example, I started by adding my mom and sister and then added family that I knew to my family tree. When I visited extended family, I would show them my tree and ask for pictures of family that I could see. I would use my phone and take a picture of the family photos they shared so they didn’t feel like I wanted to keep the pictures that were precious to them. I went to a funeral and shared my tree and asked for pictures that I could photograph.

Soon they were pointing out people I missed on my tree who needed to be added or telling me they were out of order or the wrong relationship. One said, “I lived with your parents and have a picture of you when you were little,” and another had pictures of me from when they lived with grandparents. Sometimes I would give them a small token of appreciation for finding and bringing the pictures for me to make copies of.

Over time, more and more extended family have reached out, both with information and with photographs. This truly became a blessing in helping me build my tree for many generations and preserve my heritage for many of my ancestors I otherwise would never have known. This process can be used by anyone to help build their tree beyond what they know personally.

When I was a young man in the Aaronic Priesthood, we boys used to stand in our quorum meetings and repeat in unison, “Priesthood means service. Bearing the priesthood, I will serve.” This was our weekly pledge. It was part of every quorum meeting. Most of us began to understand that honoring the priesthood required our being active and serving in the Church.
In those days we played a lot of tennis. We knew that in tennis, if we didn’t serve well, we usually didn’t win. Our priesthood leaders taught us the same concept insofar as the Church was concerned. They helped us learn to serve at the proper time and in the proper way.
No boy or man fully possesses the priesthood until he learns to serve others and the Lord. It is true that someone with authority may bestow the priesthood by the laying on of hands, but until we do something by way of service to others, the priesthood lies dormant within us and is of little value. We must not fail to magnify the callings we receive.
During the past few months, I have felt that I might best serve by encouraging and helping all members to feel the necessity of keeping the simple doctrines of the gospel simple. I strongly feel that the gospel was given to us in a simple, plain, and clear manner. My mission president taught us that the gospel of Jesus Christ is beautifully simple and simply beautiful. The tendency of many is to complicate these lovely, simple requirements that the Lord has given to us.
Nothing is more simple than prayer. The Savior, while upon the earth, gave the example and commanded all to follow in His footsteps. If we have faith that our Heavenly Father lives and that we can commune with Him in a very direct way, then prayer becomes one of the most beautiful, lovely, simple acts that we can do.
I have a strong testimony that the Lord does hear and answer prayers. We are obligated to thank Him. We are obligated to converse with Him in such a way that there are no obstacles between us and our Father in Heaven. From the very beginning, the Lord has instructed His earthly children to remember Him in prayer.
One morning a good many years ago, a member of the Council of the Twelve came to my office and told me of a beautiful, touching experience that had happened to him that day. He had gone to the old Deseret Gym to enjoy the steam bath for a while. As he sat there in the heavy steam, he heard the door open and looked upward toward the door to see who was entering. He could not see anyone, but he had a feeling someone else was there in the room with him. After a few minutes he saw a young Primary-age boy about eight or nine years old who had seated himself two or three feet away. The boy gradually slid closer to the Apostle, and they finally said “hello” to each other. Then the boy moved even closer until he could look up into the face of the Church leader. The little boy said, “Mister, I think I know who you are.” The Apostle said, “Who am I?” The boy said, “I think you are one of the Apostles of the Church. I think you are the one who travels all over the ocean on big boats and little boats and all kinds of airplanes—and you are the one who never gets sick or hurt in any wrecks.” The Apostle acknowledged that he was the one who was having those great experiences. The boy then said to him, “Do you know why it is you don’t ever get killed or get hurt?” The Apostle said, “No, why is that?” The little Primary boy said, “That’s because I pray for you.”
What a touching, lovely expression of faith in a simple, wonderful way! This experience happened forty years ago, but I think of it frequently. There is far more power in simple prayer than many of us think possible.
My brothers and sisters, thousands, and even hundreds of thousands, of people pray for their loved ones each and every day. Great numbers pray for the leaders of the Church, particularly for our prophet, President Benson. I am convinced that the Lord hears the simple prayers of all people. I am sure He hears the prayer of the aged widow as well as the little child who prays with simple, plain, and understandable faith. I am also certain that a loving Heavenly Father appreciates the sincere, regular prayers of the faithful much more than the hurried, urgent appeals given only in times of crisis.
May the Lord bless and help us all to have the courage to pray with our families. Nothing is more wonderful than for parents to gather their children around them and enjoy the special, tender moments of communing with our Heavenly Father in family prayer. Nothing binds a family together more; and nothing puts us in a position to receive His blessings more than compliance with that wonderful commandment and privilege. Even for those of us who no longer have children at home, the blessing of praying together as companions is wonderful. The faithful person living alone is also lifted up and richly rewarded through humble, secret prayer.
Jesus said, “Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven” (Matt. 18:3).
May the Lord bless us and help us all to serve Him with simple, childlike faith, simple forgiveness and repentance, and especially with simple prayer, that we may enjoy the strength, power, and beauty that come from the plain and simple things of the gospel, I pray in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

One day I was in our kitchen and my foot felt funny. I started rubbing it on the wall. After a while I started bouncing it, but I did it too hard and made a hole in the wall. Later that week as I was getting ready for bed, I heard my mom and dad talking about the hole and wondering how it got there. Before I went to bed, I told my mom that I made the hole. I was honest like Jesus is honest. It felt good to choose the right.

Your patience may be the key to the success of a trip. Whenever people are placed in close quarters for any length of time there are bound to be some personality conflicts.

In our family the first “fight” usually began in the driveway. My sister and I would quarrel over the place behind Mom like it was the only window seat on a trip to Mars. We both learned, through time, to share. We also learned to take turns in the seat behind Dad—you know, the one that has no leg room.

I have a friend, Mossi White, who as an infant was one of the unwitting heroes of World War II. Mossi’s parents, and I guess Mossi herself, were part of the underground in Norway, and she acted as an unwitting secret courier carrying secret papers hidden in her diapers, where German soldiers were unlikely to look, for obvious reasons. Think of the fears her parents had to overcome. Had they developed what Christ meant when He asked us to develop a childlike nature? Is it possible that, in their childlike nature, Mossi’s parents couldn’t be frightened enough to accept that wrong was right or that there was nothing they could do to stop the evil of the Third Reich? Mossi’s father was later captured by the Gestapo and sent to a concentration camp in Poland, which he ultimately survived. Mossi’s parents saw evil, and they did what a beautiful child would do: they tried to make it all better.

Perhaps because she was raised by such parents Mossi has become a woman of great strength and courage today. She is a cancer survivor who served for years as president of the Provo School Board and as president of the American Association of School Boards, traveling and speaking extensively nationally and internationally, seeking only to bless the lives of children.

A little over a year ago, I was released from my assignment in the Presidency of the Seventy, a change announced here at general conference. Because my name was read near those of General Authorities becoming emeritus, many assumed I was also finishing my time of service. After the conference, I received numerous messages of gratitude and good wishes for my next phase in life. Some even offered to buy my house in North Salt Lake. It was nice to see that I would be missed and also to know we will not have trouble selling our home when I am done. But I am not there yet.
My new assignment took Monica and me to beautiful Africa, where the Church is flourishing. It has been a blessing to serve among the faithful Saints in the Africa South Area and witness the Lord’s love for them. It’s inspiring to see generational families of all backgrounds, including many successful and well-educated Church members, dedicating their time and talents to serve others.
At the same time, given the region’s demographics, many people of modest means are joining the Church and transforming their lives through the blessings of tithing faithfulness and the educational opportunities offered by the Church. Programs such as Succeed in School, EnglishConnect, BYU–Pathway Worldwide, and the Perpetual Education Fund bless many lives, especially those of the rising generation.
President James E. Faust once stated, “It has been said that this church does not necessarily attract great people but more often makes ordinary people great.”
The greatness of our Saints in Africa becomes even more evident as they face life’s challenges and the demands of a growing Church. They always approach it with a positive attitude. They embody well the well-known teaching from President Russell M. Nelson:
“The joy we feel has little to do with the circumstances of our lives and everything to do with the focus of our lives.
“When the focus of our lives is on God’s plan of salvation … and Jesus Christ and His gospel, we can feel joy regardless of what is happening—or not happening—in our lives.”
They find joy despite their challenges. They have learned that our relationship with the Savior enables us to approach difficulties with smiling faces and grateful hearts.
Let me share some of my experiences with these faithful Saints who illustrate this principle, starting with Mozambique.
A few months ago, I presided over a stake conference for a one-year-old stake that already had 10 units. More than 2,000 people filled the small chapel and three tents that were set outside. The stake president is 31 years old, his wife is 26, and they have two small children. He leads this growing and challenging stake with no complaints—only a smiling face and a grateful heart.
In an interview with the patriarch, I learned that his wife was seriously ill, and he struggled to provide for her care. After addressing the issue with the stake president, we gave her a priesthood blessing. I inquired of the patriarch how many patriarchal blessings he gives on average.
“Eight to ten,” he said.
I asked, “Per month?”
He replied, “Per week!” I counseled him that doing that many per weekend was not wise.
“Elder Godoy,” he said, “they keep coming every week, including new members and many youths.” Again, no complaints—only a smiling face and a grateful heart.
After the Saturday evening session of stake conference, on my way to the hotel, I noticed people buying food along the road late at night. I asked my driver why they were doing it when it was so dark rather than during the day. He responded that they were working during the day to have the money to do it later.
“Oh, they were working today to eat tomorrow,” I said.
But he corrected me: “No, they were working during the day to eat tonight.” I had hoped our members might be in a better situation, but he confirmed that many faced similar challenges in that part of the country. The next morning, during our Sunday session and newly aware of their circumstances, I was even more moved by their smiling faces and grateful hearts.
On the way to a Sunday meeting, the stake president and I saw a couple walking along the road with a baby and two small children. We stopped to offer them a ride. They were surprised and delighted. When I asked how far they needed to walk to the chapel, the father replied that it could take 45 minutes to an hour, depending on the children’s pace. They faced this journey back and forth, every Sunday, with no complaints—only smiling faces and grateful hearts.
One Sunday before a stake conference, I visited two branches using public schools as meetinghouses. I was shocked by the humble and modest conditions of the buildings, which lacked even some basic amenities. As I met a few members there, I was ready to apologize for the inadequate conditions of their meetinghouse, but they were happy to have a nearby place to gather, avoiding the usual long walk. Again, there were no complaints—only smiling faces and grateful hearts.
Following a Saturday of leadership training, the stake president took me to Sunday services held in a rented house. There were 240 people in attendance. Then the bishop introduced 10 new members baptized that week. The congregation was spread across two small rooms, with some members also sitting outside the building, watching the meeting through windows and doors. There were no complaints—only smiling faces and grateful hearts.
I visited this beautiful small country, also known as “the mountain kingdom,” to see a Church district preparing to become a stake. Following a Saturday of meetings, I attended Sunday services in one of their branches in a rented house. The sacramental room was overflowing, with people standing outside the door to participate. I told the branch president that he needed a bigger house. To my surprise, he informed me that this was only half of his membership. The other half would attend a second sacrament meeting after the second hour. Again, there were no complaints—only smiling faces and grateful hearts.
I returned to Lesotho later due to a fatal traffic accident involving several of our youth, already mentioned by Elder D. Todd Christofferson earlier. When I visited the families and leaders, I expected a somber atmosphere. Instead, I encountered strong and resilient Saints who were coping with the situation in an uplifting and inspiring way.
Mpho Aniciah Nku, 14, a surviving accident victim in this picture, illustrated it well in her own words: “Trust in Jesus and always look unto Him, because through Him you’ll find peace, and He will help you in the healing process.”
These are just a few examples where we see their positive attitude because they center their lives in the gospel of Jesus Christ. They know where to find help and hope.

Sam pedaled his bike as fast as he could up the hill. He leaned forward. The air whipped through his hair. His friend Liam pedaled next to him.
“Getting tired?” Liam said.
“No way!” Sam said.
Their friend Eric was already at the park at the top of the hill.
“Komm schon! Come on!” he yelled.
Sam and Liam reached the top of the hill. The boys parked their bikes and sat under a tree.
Liam picked up a rock and threw it. “I’m bored.” There weren’t many places to go in their small village in Switzerland.
“Me too,” Eric said. He scratched the dirt with a stick.
“We could keep biking,” Sam said.
Liam scrunched up his face. “That’s all we ever do.”
“Let’s do something funny!” Eric said. He hopped up and walked over to the bike rack, where lots of bikes were parked. Sam and Liam followed him.
Sam’s stomach felt tight. Sometimes what Eric and Liam thought was funny wasn’t funny to him. Eric and Liam liked to tease other kids and say rude things in class. But maybe this time would be different.
Besides, there weren’t many boys in Sam’s class. If he wasn’t friends with Eric and Liam, who would he be friends with?
“Let’s take the valve caps off all the tires,” Eric whispered. “We can hide them by the tree.” He knelt down by a shiny red bike and twisted a little plastic cap off one of the tires.
Liam laughed. “Yes! That will be so funny.”
Sam sighed. Nope. This time wasn’t different. “I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe we should just go.”
Eric shoved Sam’s arm. “Aw, come on!” he said. “No one is even looking.”
“They’re just little parts,” Liam said. “No one will even notice they’re gone.”
Sam tried to ignore the sick feeling in his stomach. Taking the valve caps wouldn’t ruin the bikes. He shrugged and nodded.
The three boys quickly took all the valve caps off the bike tires and ran back to the tree. They hid all the caps under a rock and sat down to watch the bikes. Liam and Eric were giggling.
Soon a man walked up, unlocked his bike, and rode off.
“See? He didn’t even notice,” Liam said.
But I did, Sam thought.
The rest of the day, Sam couldn’t stop thinking about the valve caps. He wished he could give them back, but he had no way to find the bikes’ owners. He knelt down and told Heavenly Father about it.
“I feel awful,” Sam said. “I wish I had never done it. Please forgive me, Heavenly Father.”
The next day, Sam and his friends rode their bikes to the park again.
Once again, Eric said, “Let’s take the valve caps!”
Once again, Liam agreed.
Sam remembered his prayer. And this time, he felt a little braver.
“I don’t think we should,” he said.
“Why not?” Liam said, frowning. “No one even noticed yesterday.”
“I wouldn’t want someone messing with my bike,” Sam said. Before either boy could answer, he hopped on his bike. “Race you to the bakery!” he yelled. Then he started pedaling as fast as he could.
Eric and Liam grabbed their bikes too.
“No fair! You got a head start,” Liam called.
Sam grinned as his friends raced after him. He whispered a thank you to Heavenly Father. He felt much better.
This story took place in Switzerland.

One of the most miraculous stories is the heart surgery of President Spencer W. Kimball. At age 77 President Kimball who was the acting president of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles was dying of congestive heart failure. This was the diagnosis of his cardiologist, Dr. Wilkinson. And Dr. Russell M. Nelson, the heart surgeon, also determined that the surgery that was needed to save his heart was too complicated and too high a risk for someone of his age, terrible health, and heart condition. Besides all of these factors, Dr. Nelson had never performed this particular operation, which worried him immensely. However, in a meeting with these two doctors and the First Presidency, the first counselor, Harold B. Lee, pronounced that the Lord wanted Spencer W. Kimball to continue to live and to serve the Church. He stated that the surgery must be tried. President Nelson was extremely nervous. The night before the operation, President Harold B. Lee and President N. Eldon Tanner gave Dr. Nelson a blessing. In it, they promised that everything would go perfectly, that he would know what to do. In answer to that prayer, the day-long surgery did go absolutely right in every way. As President Kimball was slowly recuperating President Joseph Fielding Smith died, and 18 months later, the young and vigorous prophet President Harold B. Lee also died, leaving President Spencer W. Kimball at the helm. Many in the Church and in the world worried about his health. But Dr. Nelson wrote a letter that stated he had a healthy body and a healthier heart than he had had for many years. Miraculously, President Kimball led the Church for the next twelve years.

One who received and welcomed the gift of peace was Joseph Millett, an early missionary to the Maritime Provinces of Canada, who learned while there and in his later experiences in life of the need to rely on heavenly help. An experience which he recalled in his journal is a beautiful illustration of simple yet profound faith:
“One of my children came in and said that Brother Newton Hall’s folks was out of bread, had none that day.
“I divided our flour in a sack to send up to Brother Hall. Just then Brother Hall came.
“Says I, ‘Brother Hall, are you out of flour?’
“‘Brother Millett, we have none.’
“‘Well, Brother Hall, there is some in that sack. I have divided and was going to send it to you. Your children told mine that you was out.’
“Brother Hall began to cry. He said he had tried others, but could not get any. He went to the cedars and prayed to the Lord, and the Lord told him to go to Joseph Millett.
“‘Well Brother Hall, you needn’t bring this back. If the Lord sent you for it you don’t owe me for it.’
“You can’t tell me how good it made me feel to know that the Lord knew there was such a person as Joseph Millett.”
Prayer brought the gift of peace to Newton Hall and to Joseph Millett.

When I first met Will, I felt sorry for him. Still, I didn’t dare help him out, because I was worried about what the other guys would think.
Will came to school six weeks after it started. Everyone else already had their own bunch of friends, and nobody seemed to need Will. Besides, he was a little different. He came to school that first Monday morning wearing a pair of ragged jeans and a faded T-shirt.
Will was kind of quiet, too, seeming to hide underneath a beat-up baseball cap. He crept into our fifth-grade class that first morning and quietly took his seat in the back of the room. He answered “Here,” when Mrs. Collins called the roll, and when she asked him where he came from, he mumbled, “Blue Lakes, Kansas.” Nobody knew where Blue Lakes was, and nobody seemed to care.
That was all Will said that first morning. At noon he ate his sack lunch by himself, with his arms around his paper bag like he didn’t want anyone to see what he had—one sandwich and an apple.
“He’s weird all right,” I heard Ronny snicker down the table from me. Several others joined in the laughter as they stared at Will sitting alone two tables over. I ducked my head and picked at the pizza I had on my tray. I wished I could help Will, but I didn’t know how.
A few minutes later, though, I had forgotten about him. What was really on my mind was our lunchtime football game. Ronny, who had brought his football from home, and Larry were the two captains. Ronny chose me right off, and soon the sides were picked. And there was Will, all alone, standing between the two teams, looking from Ronny to Larry.
“You can’t play today,” Ronny growled, rolling the football in his hands. “The teams are even right now. We don’t need anybody else.”
Will wet his lips, looked down, kicked at the grass with his dirty shoe, turned around, and wandered off to the edge of the field with his hands stuffed in his pockets. All of a sudden I had this deep-down sick feeling, and I hurt for him. I wanted to call out that we’d played with uneven teams before, but I didn’t say anything.
I tried to keep my mind on football that afternoon, but it was tough. Every time I ran out for a pass or went to block someone, I saw Will out of the corner of my eye, just sitting there at the edge of the field, watching and wishing that he were part of the game.
“Did you have butter on your fingers today, Brett?” Ronny questioned me after the bell rang and we started for class. “You missed half my throws.”
I shook my head and shrugged. “I guess it’s just one of my bad days.”
As we headed for class, I could tell that we were going to walk right past Will. He was still sitting cross-legged on the ground and picking at blades of grass. I wanted to say something so he wouldn’t feel completely alone. I knew what being alone was like. I’d been new at school two years earlier. Just before I got to Will, he looked right at me, but I chickened out because I was walking with Ronny. I turned my eyes down and walked past him. I felt sick inside all over again.
That afternoon Mrs. Collins had us get into groups to work on a science project. Right then I thought about walking over and inviting Will to work with me, but Ronny grabbed my arm and said, “Come on, Brett, work with Danny and me, or Mrs. Collins is going to stick you with the new kid.” He made it sound like working with Will would be the worst thing that could happen to a guy. Will ended up being assigned to work with Nancy and Angela when no one picked him for their group.
By the time I got home from school, I’d stopped thinking about him. But something Dad said during family home evening brought him back to my mind. Dad was giving a lesson on the Holy Ghost. He explained how the Holy Ghost could warn us when we were in danger. He said that Wilford Woodruff’s life had been saved many times because he had listened to the Holy Ghost. One time Wilford Woodruff had camped for the night and tied his horses to a big tree. During the night the Holy Ghost warned him to move his horses. Right after he moved them, a big storm tore up the tree where the horses had been.
Dad told a story of when he himself was younger and had wanted to go on a trip with some friends. The Holy Ghost had warned his mother not to let him go. Dad stayed home, and the friends who went on the trip were in a serious accident.
“Have you ever felt the Holy Ghost in your life, Brett?” Dad asked me.
Even though I had been baptized and had received the gift of the Holy Ghost, I couldn’t remember a time when the Holy Ghost had told me anything. “I guess you have to be older for the Holy Ghost to talk to you,” I complained, feeling a bit cheated. “Maybe He doesn’t have anything to tell me. Or maybe I just don’t need His help.”
“Although the Holy Ghost might speak to you in a voice,” Dad explained, “the Spirit isn’t necessarily something you hear.”
“Most of the time it’s not what you hear, but what you feel,” Mom joined in. “You might have a good feeling when you make a right choice. Or you have a sick or sorry feeling when you choose something wrong.”
Suddenly it was like a light went on inside my mind. I thought of Will. I remembered the feelings I’d had that day to say hello to him, to let him play football, and to ask him to be in my science group. I wondered if the Holy Ghost had tried to speak to me, and I hadn’t listened.
I was really quiet after that because I didn’t want my family to know about Will and me. I wanted the Holy Ghost to warn me and protect me as He had with Wilford Woodruff and Dad, but I wasn’t sure I wanted Him telling me to be nice to Will. That wouldn’t help me—it would make things hard for me! How could I be nice to Will when everybody else thought he was weird?
Dad asked me to say the closing prayer in home evening, and I asked Heavenly Father to help us listen to the Holy Ghost and do what He told us to do. As I prayed, I tried not to think of Will, because I was afraid of what the Spirit might tell me.
I had a hard time getting to sleep that night, but by morning I’d forgotten about Will again. I was anxious to get to school. As I rushed out my bedroom door, I spotted my new football just inside the closet. Ineed to take that to school today, I thought as I charged toward the kitchen. Two more times before I left the house, I thought of my football, but I still forgot to take it until I was half a block down the street. Remembering, I raced back to the house, grabbed the ball, and sprinted off to school.
No one was any friendlier to Will on Tuesday than they’d been on Monday, but I figured there wasn’t anything I could do about it. Then when we got ready to go out for morning recess, Ronny called to me, “Hey, Brett, bring your ball. I forgot mine. You can be one of the captains.”
At first I was excited to be a captain, but as everyone gathered so Ronny and I could choose up teams, I spotted Will. I remembered Dad’s lesson on the Holy Ghost, and I knew why I’d brought my football that morning. I fidgeted and felt a scary twisting in my stomach, because I knew that bringing the ball to school was the easy part. The hard part was still ahead of me, and it was like the Holy Ghost was telling me exactly what to do. I looked around. Everybody was waiting for Ronny and me to choose. I began to wish that I had left my ball shut up in the closet at home.
Ronny chose Larry first. I chose Rusty. Ronny chose Danny. I wasn’t hearing a voice, but the feeling inside told me what I was supposed to do. I wasn’t sure if I was brave enough to do it. Everyone expected me to choose Robby, but I knew that I wasn’t supposed to make the easy choice. I was supposed to make the right one. “I’ll take Will,” I rasped.
Everybody was quiet for a moment. Will looked surprised, and then he shuffled over to join my team, keeping his head down and not looking at anybody.
“Why’d you want him?” Ronny growled.
“I figure he’s pretty good,” I muttered, shrugging. I could feel my cheeks burn a glowing red, but my insides didn’t twist and turn like they had before.
We took the kickoff. I was playing quarterback, and as soon as the ball was hiked, I searched for a receiver. Everybody was covered—everybody but Will. The other team had forgotten him, hadn’t even worried about him. He was pretty far down the field, but I decided to give him a chance. I cocked my arm and let the ball fly. It was a little over his head, but he reached for it, pulled it down, cradled it against his chest, and was racing for the goal line before Ronny’s team knew what was happening. He made our first touchdown.
A few plays later Ronny threw the ball to Larry. He wasn’t even watching Will—I guess he figured that Will’s first catch was all luck. But before Larry realized that Will was anywhere near, Will stepped in front of him, snatched the ball from the air, and charged down the field for his second touchdown.
“Hey, where’d you learn to play ball, Will?” Ronny demanded as we walked to class after recess.
“Football and baseball were about all we ever played in Blue Lakes,” Will answered, smiling shyly and ducking his head.
“Well, you’re playing for me this afternoon. Brett had his turn this morning.”
Will looked over at me. I smiled and nodded, feeling a warm swelling inside me. I was glad that I had learned to listen with more than my ears.

As an exercise, I ask students to keep journals taking note of their spiritual impressions—when and how they occur and how they respond. One student, Moe Graviet, gave me permission to share a portion of her journal. She recorded a set of spiritual impressions she had received shortly before a large assignment was due in another class. She was visiting her family and woke up in the morning eager to get to work but felt distinct spiritual impressions to do things a little differently: to go back to sleep and get a little more rest, to take time to pray and read her scriptures, and to spend time with her family. As the day progressed, she began to worry: If these were spiritual impressions she was receiving, did the Spirit want her to get a bad grade on her big assignment? Was the Lord trying to humble her? I quote here from her account:

I determined whether an impression was coming from the Spirit based on whether it felt peaceful or led in the way of peace. So when my sister wanted to go for a run, I went. When my mom needed help in the basement, I helped—and I wondered how in the world I was going to get my assignment done. But I kept feeling an extraordinary, counterintuitive peace—like the Lord was showing me how I could live life in a state of calm instead of panic. Of course, by the end of the day, the Lord blessed my mind with ideas and energy to get done all I needed to. In reflecting on this experience, I began to wonder if this is what it’s like to actually live under the influence of the Spirit—to live calmly, doing the right things at the right moments, and getting things done with joy and peace instead of stress. And I honestly began to wonder if I had done it all wrong these last four years of college and what things would have been like if I had been intentionally living each day like this. I wondered if I could have saved myself a lot of stress and hopelessness and why I didn’t trust the whole time.

Then came my third encounter with death.
A few years later, my family and I drove across the country to visit my grandparents. My grandpa had been battling cancer for several years, and the chemotherapy treatments were taking a significant toll on him. It was painful to watch him struggle.
At the end of our trip, we woke up early to start on the long drive home. We all hugged our grandpa goodbye, and the realization began to hit us that this would likely be our last goodbye. He asked if he could pray for us, which we gratefully accepted. Then we left.
A few weeks later, he passed away.
At his viewing, my grandmother reminded all of her children and grandchildren of how much our grandfather had loved us and how grateful she was for the plan of salvation. As I looked down at my grandfather’s body, his spirit now gone, I didn’t want this to be last time I saw him.
Suddenly, I felt that this wasn’t the end. My grandfather was dead, but he wasn’t gone. I felt the Spirit testify to me that Heavenly Father’s plan for us is real.
I felt in my heart the words of Elder Patrick Kearon of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles regarding the plan of salvation: “The Father’s design, His plan, His purpose, His intent, His wish, and His hope are all to heal you, all to give you peace, all to bring you, and those you love, home.”

Not many years ago I had a similar experience. I knew that I should tell the bishop of my mistake. I knew that if I were to die without confessing, I wouldn’t be able to look my Maker in the eye without guilt. But then I thought of the bishop. I felt that he respected me. I was the Laurel president. Over the years I had held many callings in Young Women. The thought of telling the bishop crushed me. I felt that he would think less of me.
I decided to tell the bishop anyway to clear my conscience. I was extremely nervous when I called and asked if I could see him. The bishop was very understanding. He didn’t lecture me. He assured me that my sin was forgivable and that my Father in Heaven loved me very much and wanted me to be happy. As soon as I told him, the burden lifted and I felt clean once again. The next time I saw him he treated me as if nothing had happened. He never mentioned it again.
I have since thought about my past mistake, but the memory of it is as if it were another life. Two years after this incident I was married in the temple to a wonderful husband. We have now been married six months.
If I hadn’t taken that step I wouldn’t have been worthy to go to the temple.
It’s really worth it! No one needs to know but the bishop, the Lord, and you. Keep your chin up and good luck.
Name withheld