Gospel Story Finder

I joined the Church at age 16 and at 17, against all odds, left England for America to escape a life of poverty. I was completely alone and frightened, but I was determined. I had one plan: to become rich and famous. A few years before, I had seen a documentary about orphanages in Romania that deeply impacted my young, fierce heart. I was no stranger to childhood trauma, so I set a goal to get enough money to fund an orphanage and truly make a difference in the world.
I couldn’t have known then how different my life would turn out. I got married at age 25, and my husband soon joined the Church. By then I had managed to become quite successful, but I was still looking for true “success” (or at least what I thought was success at the time: fame and fortune). I longed to make a big difference. Strangely enough, I didn’t want to get pregnant, but I had a strong feeling that we shouldn’t do anything to prevent pregnancy. It turned out that my feeling was right because after about a year, nothing had happened.
Growing up, I always loved children, even though my plans didn’t include having more than one or two of my own in the far distant future. I didn’t think I’d be too disappointed if I couldn’t have children at all, but when suddenly faced with that very real possibility, I was devastated.
Over the next two years, I became angry, resentful, and desperate. Ironically, “The Family: A Proclamation to the World” came out around the time I got married, and that message increasingly affected me in a negative way because I felt like I couldn’t fulfill my duty to have children. When my husband and I visited doctors, they couldn’t find any reason for the infertility. It seemed so unfair. I wondered why God had done this to me. Little did I know, my heart was changing. I had always been hyper-focused on success, but now, for the first time in my life, my heart wanted a baby more than anything else.
As time marched on, I felt more and more forgotten, desperate, alone … abandoned by God. I pasted on a cheerful smile, but no one understood what my husband and I were really going through. One day, I spoke to my husband’s grandmother, who was very wise and spiritual. As I shared my feelings with her, she said, “You know, there are many other ways to be a mother.” I felt her words penetrate my heart to its core. I was humbled. I knew this was an answer from Heavenly Father. I had only been fixated on having a baby through my own body. A glimmer of hope emerged as we considered other options. We became foster parents.
Soon our first foster baby, Benjamin, came to us. My bond with him was overwhelming, but I felt faint promptings that he wouldn’t be with us forever. I was heartbroken at the thought of him leaving us. And I was desperate for a baby I could keep. The Church’s Family Services was helping couples with adoptions at the time, so I went to my bishop to get information. The next week I got a call from a social worker who was looking to place a baby in a foster/adoption home. This was music to my ears. Despite the possibility of the baby having developmental issues, we felt the Lord’s hand directing us and we had faith to go forward. I’m not going to lie—I was scared. But it felt right, and baby Daniel was delivered to our home that very night.
Within days he became gravely ill, was hospitalized, and given a 50 percent chance to live. I sat by his crib for 11 days alternately praying and crying over him. I never once left the hospital. When Daniel’s birth parents came to see him (the adoption wasn’t final yet), there I was, looking like a complete disaster! But they seemed disconnected and showed no emotion whatsoever when they saw him.
This was a huge “aha” moment for me. I realized then that I really was Daniel’s mother! It didn’t matter that I hadn’t given birth to him—he was meant to be mine. I learned a lot about motherhood in those 11 days. I would have done anything for him.
Daniel’s life was spared. Benjamin returned to his biological family. But the Lord stayed by our side. Since then, we have adopted six more children and have miraculously had two of our own. I could shout from the rooftops about the miracles I’ve witnessed in my life. I have such a testimony of Heavenly Father’s promise to us that we can have the blessings we desire, even in ways we might not have originally expected or when we expect them (see 2 Nephi 10:17; Alma 37:17).
Having nine kids is hard at times. It’s nonstop laundry, it’s different personalities, and each child comes with different issues. But I know they were all heaven-sent. Honestly, it feels like my dream of making a difference and owning my own orphanage has come true after all!
My trial of infertility led me to my greatest blessings. I feel like I had to be truly humbled so I could submit to God’s will instead of my own. I experienced that “mighty change of heart” (see Alma 5:13). And through this kind of submission, He has guided me. He has blessed me with dreams, visions, and miracles that have led me to each child. He always had a plan for me! Even when I felt forgotten, He was there.
Infertility can be very dark and lonely. I think back on those days when it was hard to go to church without children—when the family proclamation held a bitter sting. I couldn’t see then what I see now. The loving words in the proclamation always applied to me. Regardless of our circumstances, we do each have a place in Heavenly Father’s eternal plan.

My friend Christina was born with a condition called progressive spinal muscular atrophy, a disease that attacks and deadens nerves. She was confined to a wheelchair at a very young age.
I met Christina when we were both eight years old and she and her mother moved into our ward. Christina had a special inner light and strength about her, a strength that carried her through many difficult trials.
When we were in Primary, and I was worrying about my science project or what to wear, Christina was preparing herself for a necessary operation that gave her only a 50 percent chance of living. Her life was often threatened by illnesses that her weakened immune system had a hard time fighting. She had to have constant care and help performing the most routine chores like dressing, bathing, and moving around. As a teenager she struggled to do the fun things her friends did like going to dances and parties and ice skating.
And although she sometimes got frustrated, Christina never gave up. She never gave up her desire to live and to choose the right. She often felt lonely and afraid, but instead of turning inward or falling away, she was a friend to everyone and she struggled to strengthen her relationship with the Lord.
As she began to really face death, she had to mature a lot faster than most of us do in order to prepare herself to meet her Lord. Christina died at the age of 16 in a hospital, surrounded by her mother and close friends. I feel privileged to have been there, just as I feel privileged to have called her my friend. Her faith in the gospel and in the Lord was an inspiration to me.
The pioneers who crossed the plains were brave, courageous souls. They endured many challenging hardships. Yet pioneers did not cease to exist when the Latter-day Saints reached the Salt Lake Valley, for I have known a pioneer in my own life. She was a brave and courageous soul. She endured many challenging hardships, and she left behind a legacy. For those who knew Christina, we remember her strength, her faith, and her courage. Today I wear a ring which reads “Return with Honor.” It reminds me of my friend and helps me try to pattern my life after hers so that I may also be a pioneer to those who follow me.

Moving pipe! The words filled me with dread. My thoughts turned to a few months earlier when mom had insisted that I get a summer job. In our small town, that meant pretty much one thing—moving pipe. So all summer, my cousin Scott and I were moving pipes.
On the first day of our summer job, we stood gazing across a vast landscape of green alfalfa. The 40-foot-long (12 m) pipes were linked together in a straight line that seemed to stretch out for miles. After a short training, Scott and I disconnected our first pipe. Scott lifted his end up, and cold water splashed all over my tennis shoes. We hefted the pipe through sticky mud and reconnected it at the next riser. As we walked back for the next pipe, my sloshing shoes became heavier as mud clung to them in ever-thickening layers. Eventually, the mud, water, and our own perspiration drenched our clothes and spirits.
My thoughts returned to volunteering at the Church farm. “Well, I—I don’t think I can come,” I stammered. “I have to go to my own job every morning.”
“That’s no problem,” assured Brother Hulet. “We always go to the Church farm in the afternoons.” Brother Hulet passed around the sign-up list. “When each one of you was ordained to the priesthood, you were given the power to act in the name of God. And when we serve Him by serving others, we are acting in His name. Besides, with all of us helping, the work won’t seem hard at all.”
The list was passed to me. I couldn’t believe that, so far, everyone had signed up to go every day this week. Didn’t they know how miserable this was going to be? I felt a great weight of righteous peer pressure exerted on me. Grudgingly, I signed up and passed it on.
Monday afternoon, I sat in my room recuperating from the morning’s work when I heard Brother Hulet honking his horn outside. I hesitated for a moment before changing back into my smelly, damp work clothes.
We soon pulled into the Church farm. Everyone but me raced toward the field. I lagged behind, head down, kicking rocks, when I was surprised by a hand on my shoulder. “Thanks for coming with us,” Brother Hulet encouraged. “I know you worked hard this morning.” We walked together in silence for a few moments. Then he ran ahead to organize the group.
I watched him and thought about what he had said to me. I had worked hard that morning. I was tired and smelly, and I wanted to go home. But what about Brother Hulet? He had worked hard that morning too. So had all the guys, for that matter. So why did they seem happy to be here?
I caught up to the others, and we began our work. At first, I tried to cheer myself up by thinking of the noble sacrifice I was making. But soon my self-absorbed thoughts ended, and I noticed how quickly we were moving with everyone helping. We laughed and talked, and suddenly I realized I was actually having fun! In a few short hours we had completed our assignment.
As we rode home, I realized that what I thought was going to be an unbearable sacrifice seemed small. In fact, with everyone helping, it seemed like no sacrifice at all.
Brother Hulet stopped his station wagon in front of my house and looked back at me. “Thanks for your help today. Your hard work made it easy for the rest of us.” He smiled and winked.
I grinned back. “Thanks, but all of us helping together was what made it easy.” I climbed out of the car and closed the door.
Brother Hulet put the car in gear and began to pull away. “See you tomorrow, then?” he called through the open window.
“Sure. See you tomorrow,” I said.

This year our band director scheduled a performance on the day of our annual youth temple trip. Three other Church members and I were to participate in this show, and my director threatened to cancel the performance for everyone if the four of us didn’t go. Some of my friends were upset with me. I decided to fast, pray, and trust in the Lord. The Holy Spirit whispered to me that I should go on the temple trip and that everything would be all right.
After the temple trip, I was afraid to go to band practice. However fear turned to joy as I learned that the band show was postponed because of bad weather. If you put your trust and faith in the Lord, He will direct your life so “all things shall work together for your good.”Heather Todd, 15Berwick Ward, Williamsport Pennsylvania Stake

Just four months after moving into this new ward, Dad fell and broke his hip while visiting a family member in St. George in southern Utah. This accident required surgery and an extended stay in a care facility 250 miles (400 km) from his new home. When we told his ministering brother about the incident, he immediately contacted the Primary president, who started a letter-writing and picture-coloring campaign with the Primary children and other ward members. They sent him mail and coloring pages almost every day. The abundance of attention led the workers at the St. George nursing home to ask if he was some sort of celebrity, as they had never had a patient receive so much mail. Since this was during the height of COVID, he couldn’t have visitors, so this daily written interaction was a gift of service beyond description.

That first memorable experience led to other strong confirmations that God lives and that Jesus is our Lord and Savior. Many of these came in response to earnest prayer. As a child, when I lost things such as my precious pocketknife, I learned that if I prayed hard enough, I could usually find them. I was always able to find the lost cows I was entrusted with. Sometimes I had to pray more than once, but my prayers always seemed to be answered. Sometimes the answer was no, but most often it was positive and confirming. Even when it was no, I came to know that, in the Lord’s great wisdom, the answer I received was for my best good. My faith continued to grow as building blocks were added to the cornerstone, line upon line and precept upon precept.

I don’t recall with accuracy when I first became aware of James E. Talmage. I know that some of his books were in my parents’ library and that I had used his Articles of Faith book in preparing the two and one-half minute talks that youngsters used to give in Sunday School. For me, the first memorable introduction to him occurred when I was just nineteen and had received my mission call to Great Britain.

My father had a good friend and associate by the name of Burton Talmage. He was not a son of Elder Talmage but was a close relative. I didn’t know Burt Talmage well, although I had met him several times and I knew how highly he was regarded by my father. When Burt learned of my mission call, he did something that was very kind and really quite extraordinary. Even at that time, I realized that he made the effort not because of me, but because of his affection and respect for my father. Brother Burt Talmage presented to me a beautiful, leather-bound edition of the Articles of Faith with this personal inscription inside, “May you find this book helpful to you on missions.” He then signed his name and the date. He had also imprinted my name on the leather cover just like my missionary scriptures.

To this day, I keep this very special book with the set of scriptures that I used as a young missionary. I have by now used several different sets of scriptures and have also had several paperback copies of the Articles of Faith which I have marked and studied and used, but this wonderful volume holds a special place in my heart. When I received this very remarkable volume, I read it through completely before I began my mission and used it as the basis for missionary study and talks. It quickly became a dear and valued friend and resource.

As I read and studied, finally realizing how little I really knew about some basic things that I fully believed, I found helpful kernels and pleasant surprises in every chapter and on almost every page. Because of his vast vocabulary, I had to look up some of the words that Elder Talmage used, but his meanings were always clear and insightful.

Last June I couldn’t bring myself to attend girls’ camp, but the reports I have received are beautiful. Shannon’s group of fourth-year girls performed “Walk Tall, You’re a Daughter of God” at the first night fireside and dedicated it to my daughter. Every night thereafter they used “our song” as the closing song at the campfire meeting. The new Beehives did not know Shannon, but they could feel the Spirit as the tears flowed and the notes were sung.

Let me tell you my personal experience. I grew up in California, away from the heart of the Church. But I never sensed that separation. I loved my ward in California. Going to Church and participating was simply our way of life. In those early years, the sacrament meetings I remember the most were the ones that involved missionaries either leaving on their missions or coming home. I so admired the faith and courage of those who left. As I watched the faith of those who were leaving on missions, and as I observed the purity and strength of those who came back, I knew that, someday, I wanted to be a missionary. I wanted to be like them – full of faith and goodness, and that feeling never left me. At the start of 9th grade, my family moved back to Salt Lake City and I began those wonderful high school years. There were new friends, new influences and new interests.

We had a large ward with many young men in the ward. There was also an escalating war in Vietnam that had an enormous impact on the ability of young men to serve missions. Because there was a draft, coupled with mandatory military service for those who were drafted, the Church entered into an agreement by which the number of missionaries that could be sent each year was limited to two missionaries per ward. Under the system where each ward could send only two each year, it would be many, many years before I would be able to serve.

By July 1970, I had finished the first year of college and would turn missionary age in August. Earlier that year I had met Mary, and by July, we were very much in love.

One hot, July afternoon, I returned home from work, and my mother said to me, “The bishop called. He wants to see you.” I asked “When?” and was told that he wanted to see me “now” at the ward. I went to the ward and found Bishop Matheson waiting for me in his office. I could soon tell that this was not an ordinary interview. After making the needed inquiries about me and my life, Bishop Matheson said: “David, it is very unusual, but we have been given the blessing of sending one more missionary this year. Because this was unexpected, as a bishopric we determined to ask the Lord who He would send now. David, what I can tell you is that ‘now’ is the time the Lord would have you serve your mission.” I had no idea that this is what we would be talking about. I had always wanted to go, but I was stunned at the statement that “now” was the time that the Lord would have me serve. I asked for a week to think about it. I left and got into the car and drove around for about an hour, ending back at the ward. Bishop Matheson was alone in his office. I asked him what he was doing, and he said that he was “waiting for me.”

I knew I wanted to serve a mission but hadn’t thought I could. Do you ever feel that way? The thought that God was aware of me and that there was a time when He wanted me to serve, and a place and people He had prepared had never occurred to me. To the bishop I said, “Bishop, if ‘now’ is the time the Lord would have me serve, of course I will go.” That was July. In August, I received my call to serve in the Japan Mission.

On October 10, 1970, I entered the Salt Lake Mission Home (we didn’t have an MTC in those days) and after a period of studying Japanese here in Hawaii, I was soon on my way to Japan, arriving on December 10, 1970. During my mission, I grew. My testimony became sure. I came home clean and anxious for whatever the Lord would have me do next in my life.

Gratefully, Mary waited, and three months after my mission ended, we were sealed in the Salt Lake Temple. Since that time, we have been blessed with eight wonderful children and 28 grandchildren.

Through it all, we have been anchored and blessed by the gospel of Jesus Christ and the faith we gained during my missionary service. Together, our faith and testimony have grown as we have stood together and met life’s challenges. Together, we have the assurance and witness that God is our Father, that His Son is our Savior and that we are led by Prophets and Apostles. All of this, in one way or another, is the result of having made the commitment to offer to the Lord two years of my life as a missionary. Indeed, everything good that has happened in my life -- or our life -- can be traced to the decision to serve a mission for the Lord. Every strength we had together had to be “faithened” in order for me to accept the call, and for Mary to let me go.

Once there were two brothers, Hasty and Swigley, who lived near the sea. Hasty was a pleasant fellow but very poor. Swigley was cranky and stingy but very rich.
When a holiday feast day came Hasty had nothing to eat so he went to his brother’s house. “Please give me some food for me and my wife, Brother Swigley,” he said. “You have plenty and I will repay you in work when harvesttime comes.”
Swigley didn’t really want to give Hasty anything, but he was afraid the neighbors would scorn him if he didn’t, so he gave Hasty a piece of ham. “Take it and be off with you. When harvesttime comes I’ll expect a good day’s labor in payment,” he said ill-naturedly.
Hasty took the ham and started for home. Because he was anxious to get there he took a shortcut through the woods. As he hurried along, the woods began to look unfamiliar to him. Hasty finally decided he had lost his way. While he was deciding what he must do, Hasty heard the sound of a woodcutter’s axe in the distance. Following the sound of the chopping, he soon came upon a large house where an old man was cutting wood.
“Can you tell me the way to—” he began. But before Hasty could finish the sentence, the axe flew from the old man’s hand and would have cut the woodcutter’s leg had Hasty not jumped quickly and knocked it to the ground.
“You are a good man,” said the old woodcutter, “and you have saved me from being hurt. Now go into the house where there are those who will want your ham. Be sure to take nothing in exchange except the old mill that stands behind the door. Then come back and I’ll teach you how to use it. That mill can grind anything.”
Hasty thought this was strange but he did as the old man directed. Inside the house were several dwarfs. When they smelled the ham they began clamoring and asked Hasty what they could give him for it.
Hasty said, “I’ll take the old mill behind the door and nothing else.”
They offered several other things in exchange but Hasty refused. Finally the dwarfs agreed to the trade of the ham for the mill.
The old woodcutter smiled when he saw Hasty coming with the mill under his arm. Quickly he told Hasty how to start the mill and then how to stop it. Hasty thanked the old man and soon found himself on the right path for home.
When he reached home Hasty put the mill on the table. “Grind a good dinner,” he said. To his wife’s delight the mill began to turn and out came the best dinner she and Hasty had ever eaten.
After that Hasty had the mill grind many good things—food, clothing, silver, gold, and anything else he and his wife needed. They invited all their friends and neighbors to come and share their good fortune. Swigley was invited, too, but when he saw how much Hasty had to enjoy he was jealous and angry. “Where did you get so much wealth?” he demanded.
When Hasty explained about the mill, Swigley was determined to have it. He begged so hard that Hasty finally agreed to give it to him. However, before he did, Hasty and his wife had the mill grind enough good things to last them for several years. Then he took the mill to his brother.
Swigley could hardly wait to be alone with his new treasure. He was so anxious to use it that he didn’t listen when Hasty explained how to stop the mill. As soon as he was alone with the mill Swigley commanded, “Mill, grind out porridge! I am hungry for good porridge.”
At once the mill began to grind. First it ground a bowlful, then a tubful, a tableful, and soon the room was half full. Porridge was running out the door into the yard. “Stop! Stop! Stop!” cried Swigley, but the mill did not stop and the flood of porridge kept coming from the mill.
Finally, Swigley decided to go see his brother. He slogged through the porridge until he was outside and then ran to Hasty’s house. “Take the mill back,” he cried. “Take it quickly! If it grinds more porridge we’ll all soon be smothered in it! Take it back! I’ll give you anything you ask if you’ll only take it back!”
Hasty took the mill back, stopped the porridge flow in the way the old woodcutter had told him, and for a long time continued to use the mill to get the things they wanted. Soon he became a rich man, living in a fine home that shone with splendor near the seashore. Many who sailed by stopped to see the wonderful mill.
One day a skipper of a ship asked, “Can the mill grind salt? I have to travel a long way to fill my ship with a cargo of salt to sell. I’d like a mill that could grind out salt.”
“Of course it can grind salt,” Hasty answered.
“I’ll give you a thousand coins for it,” the skipper offered.
“No,” Hasty answered. “I don’t want to part with my wonderful mill.”
But the skipper kept begging until Hasty finally decided to sell it. The man hurried off with the mill, boarded his ship, and sailed for deep water.
When he stopped the ship he set the mill down and commanded, “Grind salt! Grind salt and grind it fast!”
Immediately the mill began to grind. And just as had been the case with Swigley and the porridge, it didn’t stop. The ship’s hull was soon full. Salt filled every crack and the skipper shouted, and begged, and whimpered, and cried for the mill to stop. However, the salt continued to pour out, piling up on the deck while the boat began sinking lower and lower into the water.
At last the boat sank completely out of sight and came to rest on the ocean floor. And there it is to this very day, endlessly grinding salt into the sea.

Six-year-old Catherine sang as she followed Joseph and his plow down the long brown furrows, dropping yellow kernels of corn into the newly turned soil:
One for the cutworm,
One for the crow,
One to rot, and
One to grow.
Joseph called over his shoulder, “If Alvin doesn’t get back with some money, all that corn will go to the land agents. And from what I hear, they’re not about to share it with a cutworm or a crow or anything else.”
Catherine had heard her father talk about land agents, but she wasn’t sure just what they were. “What are land agents, Joseph?” she asked.
Her brother pulled the ox to a halt and explained, “They’re men who sell property. If there is a drought or your crops don’t sell and you can’t pay the mortgage money, they come and take the farm back.” Then he paused for a moment, remembering his father’s dawn-to-dark labor when they’d first cleared the land of trees to plant crops.
The whole family had helped tap the thousand sugar maple trees in the spring. Joseph also remembered the split-wood chairs and baskets and the straw brooms his father had made to sell to help pay for the farm. His father had even hired out as a hand for other farmers to bring in precious money. But still there wasn’t enough.
Catherine brought her brother back from his recollecting. “Are they going to take our farm, Joseph?”
“It looks like it, unless we can raise some more money. Alvin is still out on his job as a carpenter’s helper with a crew that’s building log houses, and Mother has been selling a lot of her painted oilcloth covers.”
“I’ve helped Mother sell cakes and gingerbread and root beer on public days,” Catherine said, beaming.
“Well, we’ve all helped. But it hasn’t been enough.” Joseph sighed as he slapped the reins against the rump of the ox. “I wish I could do something more.”
“You’ve been helping to clear trees and plowing and planting the corn and pumpkins. That’s a big help.”
“Sure. But we need money. And we need it right away.”
Catherine let out a deep breath and sat down on the broken black earth. “Will we have to let the land agents take our farm?” she asked.
“If we can’t pay all the mortgage money, we will. And the law backs them up. But it just doesn’t seem right after we’ve spent two years clearing trees from sixty acres of land and planting crops and building a four-room log house besides. They’d only turn around and sell it again for a heap of money, and we wouldn’t get a penny for all the improvements we’ve made.”
Catherine understood now why some folks said the land agents were really land robbers. The thought was still in her mind when a large black crow flew down and began to scratch for the newly planted corn. Her frustration erupted. Skirts flying, she chased after the bird, shaking her fist.
“Get out of here you old domineker!” she yelled as the bird flapped off in panic. “I won’t let you take our corn!”
Young Joseph had to laugh at the sight of her, and his laughter skipped across the clearing into the open window of the house. His mother was just lifting the lid on the cooking pot in the fireplace when she heard it. She smiled and felt a sudden sense of relief. How she wished she could stir some of it into the venison stew. They needed all the laughter they could get these days.
She left the stew sputtering against the pot lid as she called to her family. “Supper’s on!”
Later after supper, Joseph’s father, as always, felt for his spectacles. When his hand found the lower right-hand pocket of his vest, that was the signal for a reading from the Bible and for family prayer.
That night the family had an extra long prayer. Father Smith thanked Heavenly Father for His “mercy which endureth forever.” Then he pleaded for help in somehow obtaining the money that was needed. When all members of the family had added their amen, they sang the usual hymn:
Another day has passed and gone,
We lay our garments by—
The song was interrupted by a loud knock. Mr. Smith opened the door and invited a neighbor from down the road to come in.
“Much obliged, Joe. I came to ask if you’d let me hire one of your boys for a few days. I need to dig a well.”
Alvin was away working and young Joseph knew his father needed Hyrum to help cut trees. “I could do it, sir,” he said eagerly.
His father smiled. “Joseph’s able. He’ll give you a good day’s work for a day’s pay.”
“I know your boys are good workers. They’ve worked alongside their pa until they’re better than most men. That’s why I’m here. Young Joseph will be fine.”
Joseph was so happy that he had to take a big breath to keep from shouting out loud: The Lord is surely opening up the way. Things are going to work out. I’m sure of it. He was so sure that he wasn’t a bit surprised when Alvin arrived home a few days later with the money he had earned. Just the same, it was a tense moment when the whole family gathered to count their savings. Is it enough? they wondered.
Joseph held his breath as the cash was totaled. It was enough; they’d made it. Tears and laughter mingled as they realized that Alvin’s earnings added to what Joseph and the others had been able to raise would save their farm!
(To be continued.)

During her work on both the YWMIA general board and the correlation committees, Sister Funk came to know Sister Hortense H. Child, now her first counselor. Sister Child tells the story of the time she needed to give an important report on short notice. Before coming to the office that day she had forgotten to change from an old pair of gardening shoes. She just traded shoes with Ruth and carried on with her usual poise. But Ruth got even: she was asked in one meeting by the president of the Church to play the piano for an opening song, but she had forgotten her glasses. She just got up from her seat in the audience, and when she passed Sister Child, who was sitting on the aisle, she took off Hortense’s glasses as she swished by, put them on, and read the music without a flaw.

The brightest part of the flame of the pine logs had mellowed into glowing coals as Rob stared into the fire. The heat was strong enough to scorch his face and shins, yet the mountain air chilled his back and shoulders. His dad was sitting on a large rock on the other side of the fire, but neither had spoken for some time. Rob was lost in memories of many other times like this and wondering when the next opportunity would come, if ever.
Every year for six years, Rob and his dad had spent at least one week in the summer on a camping and fishing trip. Last year they had boated to the far end of Yellowstone Lake and camped with the bears. It would have been great to go there again, but Rob wanted to return to the first spot his dad had taken him when he was 12 years old.
As they parked the car and began their hike up the trail, the early morning sky was just beginning to show signs of light. The packs were heavy because of a few extras which would make the camp a little more comfortable. Still, they were experienced enough to know what they could and couldn’t do without. The ten-and-a-half mile hike along a cold rushing mountain stream brought them finally to a small lake nestled in a valley cradled at the edge of the timberline of the upper curvature of the mountain.
The natural beauty was breathtaking and the fishing was superb, but as the hypnotic effect of the glowing coals relaxed strained and tired muscles, Rob meditated on the real reason he wanted to come to this spot. At about this same time of night at a similar fire in the same fire pit six years before, he had asked his father, “Dad, in the celestial kingdom will we be able to go fishing together?”
In just a few words of profound wisdom, his father had responded, “If it is still important to you, then I’m sure it will be possible.”
Over those six years, Rob had recognized some changes in himself. Although these times with his father continued to be important and he was always ready to go when someone said “fishing,” he had learned that fishing was for relaxation and not really a key desire of his heart. In institute classes during his first year of college, a strengthened testimony of the gospel began burning within him and he knew that as soon as possible after his 19th birthday he needed to be leaving on a mission. The words were clear in his mind and seemed to ring out within his soul: “For how knoweth a man the master whom he has not served, and who … is far from the thoughts and intents of his heart?” (Mosiah 5:13). Nevertheless there were some fears, down deep inside of him, about his ability to do the work.
Time has a way of rearranging priorities. Rob was very aware of that, and sensing the end of an era, he had wanted to come back to this place.
His dad spoke, breaking the silence of the night. “The evening fishing was really something, wasn’t it, son?”
“Yeah,” responded Rob instantly. “I never believed that I would be catching two fish at a time. But when I tied the second gray hackle yellow on the line, I had to keep my hands inside the float to keep the fish from getting it before the knot was finished. It was like being able to walk on water and get right out there where the fish were biting.”
With a slight chuckle, his dad commented, “Now you sound like the Apostle Peter. You must have had a lot of faith that those fish were going to give you the thrill of a lifetime.”
Rob didn’t speak for some time and the still of the night began to inch its way back around the edges of the glow of the campfire which silhouetted the forms of the father and son.
“Dad?” Rob’s voice was full of question.
“Yes?”
“Tell me about Peter. How did he walk on water?”
There was a moment of silence before his dad began. “The scriptures say Jesus had sent his disciples ahead of him by ship and he had gone up on a mountain to pray. Apparently the winds were contrary and the water was in high waves. The ship wasn’t making much progress. Sometime between three and six o’clock in the morning, Jesus came to them, walking on the sea. Logically they were terrified until Jesus said, ‘Be of good cheer; it is I; be not afraid.’
“Then Peter cried out, ‘Lord, if it be thou, bid me come unto thee on the water.’ And Jesus simply replied, ‘Come.’
“Rob, this is an important point. When God commands, anything is possible. Remember when Nephi was building the ship and he needed to rebuke his brothers for ridiculing him? He said that if God commanded him to do all things, he could do them. If God commanded him to turn water to earth, he could do it. Miracles are accomplished at the command of the Lord or through the direction of the Holy Ghost. The Savior had said to Peter, ‘Come.’ At that command, Peter stepped out of the ship and began to walk on the surface of the water as if it were dry ground. But, in fact, it was a storm-tossed sea. Perhaps Peter, who had spent much of his life upon the sea, said to himself, This can’t be, and immediately he began to sink.
“The Savior stretched forth his hand, caught him and then said, ‘O thou of little faith, wherefore didst thou doubt?’ (See Matt. 14:22–33.)
“In the School of the Prophets in the early days of the Church in Kirtland, Ohio, it was taught that where doubt is, faith has no power. The moment Peter doubted the possibility of what was happening to him, his faith lost its power to support him on the water. The scriptures don’t say that he had lost his faith in the Lord; so perhaps the doubt was in his own ability.
“Today you were supported in the water by an inner tube full of air and a support system that permitted you to sit there comfortably while you fished. If you had taken a knife and stabbed it into the inner tube, how long would you have stayed afloat?”
“Huh? With all that gear on, I’d sink like a rock. But, Dad, I understand that because a float is like a boat. It’s a device made for travel on water. But Peter … How did that work?”
“If you’ll get me a pot full of water, I’ll give you a demonstration that may help.”
In less than a minute, Rob had grabbed the largest cooking pot they had, gone to a small stream by the side of the camp, filled the pot with water, returned to the fire, and placed a few more logs on it to give better light. He knew he was about to receive some special instruction and he was ready.
In the meantime, his dad had placed a piece of steel wool and a small bottle of dishwashing soap on a flat rock near the fire. Rob couldn’t resist commenting with a smile, “Dad, we’ve already washed the dishes.”
Letting the one-liner slide by, his father began. “Without proper displacement, like in a ship, steel is not supposed to float. But watch this piece of steel wool as I place it on the surface of the water in the pot. It floats. You learned the reason why in physics. It is because of surface tension. The pressure of the molecules against one another on the surface of the water will support the steel fibers. If we break the surface tension, watch what happens. Let’s add just one small drop of dishwashing soap to the water. The surfactants, chemicals in the soap which break surface tension so dishwashing can be effective, break the surface tension below the steel wool and … look. Rapidly the steel wool now acts like steel should and sinks to the bottom of the pot.
“We don’t know if Peter’s faith strengthened the force of the surface tension of the water or if it made him lighter, or if some other force was at work. It really doesn’t matter. What does matter is that the moment he began to doubt, the miraculous power of faith which permitted him to walk on water was broken and he sank, just like steel wool.
“Faith is not a simple subject, Rob. In general terms, our faith must have four parts. First of all we must have faith in our Heavenly Father, that he loves us and will bless us as we do his will. Then we must have faith in Jesus Christ and that through his atonement we can become clean and pure after proper repentance. How can we have his Spirit to be with us if we are not willing to take his name upon us, remember him always, and keep his commandments?
“Next, we must have faith in our leaders. If we doubt their counsel, it is like knifing our own inner tube or using a surfactant to break the surface tension under our feet. In the gospel, if we doubt the prophet, the General Authorities, or our local leaders, we sink like a rock.
Last, but not least, we must have faith in ourselves; in our own ability to receive guidance and revelation because we are abiding by the other aspects of faith. As a result, we can receive the assurance that we do know the will of God and are able to carry it out.
The Savior of all mankind said to Peter, ‘Come.’ Through the Spirit, it is as if he were saying to you, Rob, ‘Come. Trust in me. Serve a mission and I will bless you. Have faith in your Heavenly Father, in me and in the Atonement, in priesthood leaders and in yourself.’ When you do these things, then, if the Lord commands, you will have the power to do all things, including walking on water.”
Father and son sat quietly for some minutes watching the embers dim. The warmth Rob felt now was not from the fire. It came from within, and he felt sure and strong as the words formed in his mind: “Come. Be not afraid.”

In 1932, Lauri Lehtinen of Finland was favored to win the 5,000-meter run. An American named Hill challenged Lehtinen on the last part of the course, bringing the crowd to its feet. As Hill moved to pass, Lehtinen swerved into his path. Hill tried to pass on the other side, and Lehtinen blocked his path again and forced the American to run slower. Hill barely missed catching Lehtinen at the wire.
The fans showed their disappointment so long and loud that officials held up naming the winner for more than an hour. But since there was nothing illegal about the blocking, they declared the Finn the winner.
As Lehtinen mounted the victory stand’s top step, an enormous chorus of boos erupted. When the olive wreath was placed on his head, Lehtinen removed it, stepped down, and placed the wreath on Hill’s head.

He saw and handled the plates of gold from which the Book of Mormon was translated and testified throughout his life to the truthfulness of that sacred book. His name remains firmly affixed, with those of the other witnesses to the Book of Mormon, in the front pages of that second witness of Jesus Christ. On one occasion he was imprisoned and told he would be released if he would deny the Book of Mormon. Not only did he not deny it, but he converted two persons during his thirty-day confinement.

One dramatic incident gives us the essence of their experience. David Whitmer was one of the Three Witnesses who disagreed with the way the Church was going, and he settled down permanently in Missouri, letting the Saints go their way to Nauvoo and then on to Utah. He once became deeply annoyed by persistent rumors that he had recanted his witness. Desperate for a means of quelling these false rumors, he purchased advertising space and published a proclamation in numerous newspapers, even as far away as Chicago. In this proclamation, he reaffirmed the original experience of seeing the plates as shown to him by an angel and of hearing the voice of God commanding him to bear public witness of the same. In spite of every incentive to recant this witness, neither Whitmer nor any of the other 10 witnesses ever did modify their original story. They rather chose to maintain their testimonies firmly to the end of their lives.

“I was walking several steps ahead of grandpa [President Lorenzo Snow] when he stopped me, saying … ‘It was right here that the Lord Jesus Christ appeared to me at the time of the death of President Woodruff. … He stood right here, about three feet above the floor. It looked as thought He stood on a plate of solid gold.’
“Grandpa told me what a glorious personage the Savior is and described His hands, feet, countenance and beautiful White Robes, all of which were of such a glory of whiteness and brightness that he could hardly gaze upon Him.
“Then grandpa said … I want you to remember that this is the testimony of your grandfather, that he told you with his own lips that he actually saw the Savior here in the Temple and talked with Him face to face” (Allie Young Pond, personal journal).

Quinn Kesler of Holden, Utah, is rarely seen without a rope in hand—and not just any rope. It’s a lariat, or lasso, that Quinn uses when participating in the roping events at rodeos and competitions. He first got roped into roping when he was around six and went to his first championship when he was nine.
Now 17, Quinn is off to a right smart start in rodeo. His favorite event to participate in is team roping, in which a team of two works together to rope a steer. One is the “header,” who ropes the calf’s head, usually around its horns; Quinn prefers to be the “heeler,” who ropes the steer’s hind feet.
While he needs to have a good header to count on when team roping, he has an even more important teammate: his horse, Hickory. Quinn spends hours practicing roping, chasing after steers on horseback. The ranch dog, Roxy, chases after him, looking distinctly out of place on her short Dachshund legs.
The blue sky and golden grasses of rural Utah feel straight out of a Western movie, and it’s hardly a wonder that Quinn loves to be outside. He spends the better part of his day roping, training horses, or doing odds-and-ends chores around the ranch. Quinn started with a talent for handling horses, but he has worked hard and invested countless hours to achieve his high level of skill in roping.
But Quinn still makes time to fit in daily scripture study, prayer, and seminary class. “I love seminary a lot. It’s a big help in understanding the scriptures.”
Quinn knows that the same principles of time and hard work that he has applied to roping have also helped him build up his faith. “If you study the gospel, put everything you have into it, and be all you can, you’re going to get the best results,” says Quinn. “You’re going to have success, as well as a strong testimony.”
Quinn has seen firsthand how trusting the Lord leads to success. His first big roping win came during the National Finals Rodeo in December 2005. Going into the competition, Quinn, then 12, decided that if he won, he would donate all of his winnings to the Church’s general missionary and perpetual education funds.
The day of the event arrived, and conditions were poor. It was windy, making it challenging to throw a lariat with accuracy. But Quinn remembered his decision and trusted that he’d be blessed. He roped well, and though he was by the far the youngest one there, he placed first and third against tough competition.
Even though there were a few things that Quinn might have wanted to buy, such as a new saddle, he put his money where his mouth was and donated the money.
“It opened my eyes—if you’re going to do something good for the Lord, He is sure to help you,” Quinn says.
As his success has continued, Quinn has also continued to need that divine help. “The rodeo crowd can be kind of rough sometimes, with Word of Wisdom problems and swearing,” says Quinn. “It can be hard for some people to avoid getting caught in that sometimes.”
For many, alcohol and tobacco are a part of the culture at rodeo events, and companies that sell these products are some of rodeo’s biggest sponsors. But Quinn steers clear of those kinds of sponsors. “If I have committed to avoid it and it’s against my beliefs, why would I endorse it?” Quinn says.
Quinn has been offered a drink a few times by his roping buddies during a rodeo event. They joked around about his standards and told him that just one wouldn’t hurt. But Quinn refused.
When Quinn was younger, his father, Greg, told him that he would support Quinn in pursuing roping—if he did three things: kept his language clean, kept the Word of Wisdom, and stayed morally clean. Quinn also decided that he would keep the Sabbath day holy by not competing on Sundays. Knowing that he made those commitments early on helps Quinn stay on track. He knows where he stands, and for him doing what’s right is a simpler choice.
People have started noticing Quinn, and not just because he can rope a steer faster than you can say “Boy, howdy!”
“I want you to know that Quinn’s on the cover not just because he’s a great roper, but because he’s a good kid,” Greg remembers an editor of a roping magazine telling him a few years ago. Outside of competition, it’s Quinn’s standards that people really notice. He is “an example of the believers” (1 Timothy 4:12), of the Light of Christ, and of the joy His gospel brings.
“There aren’t a lot of guys in rodeo that are LDS. People watch me, and I know that I have to be a good example and live well,” Quinn says. “If you’re living right, people are going to notice.”
Quinn plans to leave the lariat behind for two years to serve a mission. He will be quitting less than a year after turning 18, the age of eligibility for participating in professional rodeo competitions.
“I’ll probably compete some and then have to put it down to go on my mission. That will be a little tough,” Quinn says.
Some people might think Quinn’s crazy for leaving rodeo behind for two years almost as soon as he can go pro. Anyone can see that he has a promising future ahead of him, and to some, Quinn’s decision to leave behind such an opportunity seems baffling. But he knows why he’s going.
“I’ve had everyone tell me a mission’s going to be great, and I want to serve the Lord. It will be a good experience.”

I know of a young mother with five little children who called an older sister, her valued mentor, and asked, “Can we go on a hike?” Her friend knew that meant she needed to talk. Halfway through an eight-mile loop, the young mother finally said, “I just can’t believe that Heavenly Father loves me; I’ve made lots of mistakes in my life. I can’t feel that I’m worthy of His love; how can He possibly love me?” Sisters, this was a woman who had made temple covenants and was active in the Church. And yet she still felt unworthy of His love. The older sister quickly responded, “Of course He loves you. You’re His daughter.”

This same sensitivity he enhanced manyfold through mixing with all types of people and through coming to know their problems. When he was twenty years old, George Albert Smith was engaged as a salesman for Zion’s Cooperative Mercantile Institution, traveling through Southern Utah with a companion known to history only as Jim.
One is impressed with the ability of the future prophet even then to mix well with all types of company. He entertained on occasion with his harmonica and guitar and kept himself in good physical shape by exercising with Indian clubs and dumbbells (occasionally giving an exhibition of his prowess with the same in some of the villages).
His sense of humor, which helped him open many hearts, was evidenced from time to time. A demonstration of this is shown in an incident on the journey involving a jug of whiskey that Jim had brought on the trip to share with his customers. This fact bothered George, when he discovered it, because of his own commitment to the principles of the Word of Wisdom. However, there was no sermon preached by him to his companion, no chastisement—just an idea for a great practical joke somewhere along the route of the journey. The chance came before the two left Provo, about fifty miles south of Salt Lake City. While Jim was away from the wagon, the jug was located and carried off secretly to a friend with instructions for him to empty the whiskey and to fill the jug with water. Then the jug was put back in its original place. Several nights later it was brought out by Jim and the secret was revealed: no whiskey, just a jug full of foul-smelling sulphur water—much to the amusement of President Smith, who often loved to retell this story and others when he himself was the victim of a practical joke.