Gospel Story Finder

Why is Brother Lenstrom’s carrying case so beat-up? Katie wondered. She was waiting for her dad after church, and Brother Lenstrom’s brown leather carrying case was the only interesting thing to look at. She decided that at church next Sunday she would watch him carefully to see how his case had gotten so shabby.
The next Sunday, when her family got to church, Brother Lenstrom was just ahead of them. Katie ran to see if he had his carrying case. An elderly couple in front of him was struggling with the door, so Brother Lenstrom hurried over and stuck his carrying case in it before it closed on them. The door left a big mark on his carrying case, but Brother Lenstrom just smiled.
Katie took out her piece of paper and wrote:
1. Held door open
When she got to Primary, Katie was glad to see that Brother Lenstrom was a substitute teacher. Now she could keep watching him and his carrying case. He kept it on the floor until singing time, then, to the delight of all the children, used it to beat out the rhythm of “Book of Mormon Stories.” Katie quickly scribbled on her paper:
2. Drum for Primary
Katie persuaded her family to sit in the row behind Brother Lenstrom in sacrament meeting. Sister Brown and her two little boys were sitting next to him. He smiled at the squirming boys, asked Sister Brown something, then took a Friend magazine out of his carrying case. He opened it to the For Little Friends section and gave it to the boys. Katie took out her list and wrote:
3. Holds FRIEND to share
During the meeting, when one of the boys was trying to color a picture, Brother Lenstrom let him use the carrying case as a drawing table. Katie got out her list and wrote:
4. Drawing table
After sacrament meeting Katie didn’t think she’d see Brother Lenstrom again, but she did—at the drinking fountain. He was helping a small boy reach the water by using his carrying case as a stepping stool. Katie wrote on her list:
5. Stepping stool
On the way home, while she looked at her list, she realized that Brother Lenstrom’s beat-up carrying case was always used in the service of others. It was more than an ordinary carrying case—it was a “caring case!”

Constructing the temple seemed nearly impossible. The Saints were so poor that they could barely afford to care for their own families. The magnificent temple cost about $40,000–$60,000 to build, a great sum of money in the 1830s! There were very few experienced builders among them, and none of them had ever built something as enormous as a temple. Also, enemies outside of the Church vowed that they would stop construction on the temple. But the Saints knew that they had been commanded by God to build it and that He would help them: “Verily I say unto you, it is my will that you should build a house. If you keep my commandments you shall have power to build it.” (D&C 95:11.)
The Saints set to work. Men spent one day each week in the stone quarry or on the temple site, and some of them guarded the unfinished temple at night to protect it from mobs. Women spun cloth to make clothing for the workers, and they made carpets and curtains for the temple. Glass and fine china were crushed and mixed with the plaster so that when the sun struck the temple’s outside walls, they glittered. Everyone labored and sacrificed for two and a half years until the temple was finished.

The next morning dawned sunny and clear, promising a wonderful day. Instead, everything seemed to go wrong. To start things off, everyone (including me!) slept in. Unfortunately, when young people sleep in, it usually seems more important to spend five precious minutes on their hair instead of their knees. It must have happened to all of us that day. At breakfast, instead of laughing bravely at the cafeteria food and talking eagerly of the day’s activities, everyone complained, refused to eat, and asked the counselors if they had to go hiking. Not being in the best mood myself, I snapped back answers and rushed the kids around.
My spirits didn’t rise very much when I learned that I had to drive up the mountains instead of hiking. Someone had to bring the food and the kids who didn’t want to hike. Things didn’t look much better when I saw what I was supposed to drive. It was a huge van that growled viciously at me when I turned it on. It took every ounce of my strength to turn the steering wheel, and the stick shift threatened to break my arm every time I touched it. To top it all off, I got lost trying to follow the other cars in our group up the canyon.
In spite of all of this, we finally made it to the top, found the hikers, and started the barbecue. I cheered up a little bit and decided that we could finish the day on a good note.
Just when the meat was smelling good and the kids were starting to smile, it was discovered that someone had forgotten the spatulas and knives. All eyes, of course, turned immediately to the table I was trying to hide under. Thinking quickly, I saved my skin by showing everyone how we could flip hamburgers with branches and drop the watermelons onto sharp rocks instead of using knives. Everyone got to eat, but they were still pretty mad, tired, and ready to get out of the canyon.
No one wanted to leave more than I did, and after cramming everyone into the cars, I hurried the other counselors so we could get back as soon as possible. My vehicle was the last of the four cars in our group to come down the narrow, winding dirt road. Besides being in a hurry, all the drivers were tired and preoccupied with the kids. That must have been why no one noticed the big truck in time to slow down. The first two cars were able to swerve around it, and, amazingly, I was able to skid to a stop when I saw it. Then we watched helplessly as the car in front of us was knocked off the road. I sat in a daze as the car, filled with people I was responsible for, rolled over and smashed into a big tree, inches away from a steep drop-off.
I held my breath until, one by one, the kids started crawling out of the driver’s window. Then I jumped out of my car and ran to see if anyone had been seriously injured, praying that I wouldn’t need to use my newly learned first-aid skills. We got everyone out quickly, and I ran around making sure everyone was all right.
Miraculously, no one had even been bruised in that smashed car. Some of the kids were pretty scared and the car would need to be towed, but everyone was safe. As we helped the kids into other cars, another counselor showed me how close they had come to going right over the edge. Another girl saw it, too, and started to go into shock. She had been sitting right by the window during the accident and had been sure the car would go right over the edge. She was put into my car, and I was instructed to take her to the hospital, driving carefully this time.
I climbed into my car and tried to stop shaking long enough to pick up the keys. I couldn’t. All the girls were crying, and the boys who had been in the other car were giving everyone a play-by-play account of the accident, complete with sound effects. I had to calm these kids down, but I was too scared to even pick up the keys. I put my head down on the big steering wheel and tried to regain some composure before everyone else went into shock, too, but I couldn’t stop thinking about what had almost happened because of my impatience and anger. I started crying. I couldn’t get out of this canyon by myself! We were going to crash again if I drove! What would I say to the parents of these wonderful kids if anything happened? I couldn’t do it by …
I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned around to look into the very dirty, but calm, face of a young boy sitting behind me.
“Viv,” he said bluntly, as only a 12-year-old can, “you’re a nervous wreck. You need to get control of yourself or we’re not going to make it down. We’d better have a prayer.”
I couldn’t do a thing but stare at him, so he gave a prayer, the shortest, simplest one I’ve ever heard. “Heavenly Father, we’re thankful that everyone’s okay. Help us to get home without any harm or accidents. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
I lifted up my head and looked at this skinny 12-year-old boy. Then I started to cry again, but they weren’t tears of fear or frustration this time. Harmer accidents. He had asked the Lord to protect us from Harmer accidents. And, without a doubt, he believed that the Lord would do it! Suddenly, I found myself believing it, too. We would be protected from harm or accidents as surely as if we had prayed specifically about Harmer accidents. Not since I was eight years old and thought people prayed specifically for my safety had I felt with such assurance that a supplication for my safety would be heard and valued in heaven.
Driving safely down Provo Canyon that night, I learned a long-overdue lesson. It’s not the words we use in prayers that make them meaningful. It’s not the length that makes the Lord listen, nor the style that brings comfort. It’s the faith and sincerity with which we offer our prayers that make them work. I thought of all the times that I had prayed for protection from harm or accidents without really meaning or believing it. It only took the simple faith and prayer of a young boy to restore my faith in that phrase. I could offer prayers with the faith I had at age three if I just made sure my words were accompanied by faith and sincerity.

This same light led the way for 15-year-old Mary Elizabeth Rollins and her 13-year-old sister, Caroline, on a dark and chilling day in Independence, Missouri. It was 1833, and an angry mob roared through the streets of Independence, burning property and wreaking havoc. In their path was the home of Brother William W. Phelps, where the printing press was kept. He had been printing revelations received by the Prophet Joseph Smith. The mob demolished the printing press and threw the wreckage into the street. However, they stacked up the printed pages in the yard so they could burn them later.
Mary Elizabeth and Caroline had been hiding by the fence, frightened spectators to all this destruction. Even though she was terrified, Mary Elizabeth’s eye was fixed on those precious pages. She and her sister ran out from their hiding place, gathered up the scriptures, and bolted. Some of the mob saw them and ordered them to stop. But the brave girls ran into a large cornfield, where they dropped breathlessly to the ground. They carefully laid the pages of revelations between the tall rows of corn and then covered the pages by lying on them. The relentless mobsters looked and looked for the girls, coming quite close at times, but never did find them. Eventually they gave up their search to see what further damage they could do to the town.
I believe the light of the Lord directed Mary Elizabeth and Caroline as to what to do and where to go for safety. Sisters, that light shines for you, and it will guide you as it did the Rollins girls. It will keep you safe even when danger lurks. As the Master promised, “I will also be your light … ; and I will prepare the way before you, if it so be that ye shall keep my commandments; … ye shall know that it is by me that ye are led.”

It was a beautiful, sunshiny, October morning, and everybody had a Saturday chore to do. Everyone except Annie. She was too short to help Jennifer clean the tub, too young to help Mother rinse the breakfast dishes, too little to help Dallin bring in the garbage cans.
Annie wanted to help too. Sadly she kicked a crackly red leaf off the porch just as Daddy came through the gate.
“You’re just who I was looking for,” he said, picking up the lawn rake and taking Annie’s hand. “I’m trying to find the Leaf Queen, and you’re just the right size to help me.”
They walked through the gate into the backyard, a wonderland of red, gold, brown, and purple leaves. Daddy showed Annie how to use the rake to make small piles of leaves.
“What does the Leaf Queen look like?” Annie asked.
“Oh, you’ll know her when you see her,” Daddy said.
Annie raked and cleared, pulled and piled. She peeked and poked and searched and searched, but there was no Leaf Queen to be seen. Before long, the lawn was green again, except where the leaves were heaped together in one high pile.
“Maybe we accidentally raked the Leaf Queen into the pile,” said Daddy, gathering Annie up into his arms. “You’d better look.” And with that he tossed her gently into the middle of a big, soft mountain of leaves.
Annie squealed and tumbled, scattering leaves all around. Then she stood up and laughed, “There’s nobody in here but me!”
“Who said that?” Daddy turned and stared. There stood Annie, colorful autumn leaves sticking to her from her hair to her toes, like the branches of the maple tree. “Why, if it isn’t the Leaf Queen herself!”
“I’m the Leaf Queen!” She giggled amid a flutter of leaves.
“And,” said Daddy, lifting her out of the leaves with a crunchy hug, “you’re a pretty good helper too.”

Little Willie Splasher wasn’t big enough! Take the day Teacher Hushposher said, “Who can reach the top library shelf?”
Peter Brown said, “I can.”
Jack Santos said, “I can.”
Meg Nash said, “I can.”
And Little Willie Splasher said, “I can’t.”
You can believe that Little Willie Splasher was miffed. And he looked glum. But he said nothing. Peter Brown, Jack Santos, and Meg Nash cleaned the library shelves for Teacher Hushposher.
Take the time Teacher Hushposher thumped on the desk and declared, “Will all the children who can reach the top of the blackboard please stand.”
Peter Brown stood up.
Meg Nash stood up.
But Little Willie Splasher didn’t!
You can believe that Little Willie Splasher was miffed. He looked glum. But he said nothing. And Peter Brown, Jack Santos, and Meg Nash cleaned the blackboard for Teacher Hushposher.
One day, Teacher Hushposher stood up in front of the classroom and announced, “I need three nice, tall children to be tall pine trees in our school play. Let me see, who can that be?”
“Me!” cried Peter Brown.
“Me!” cried Jack Santos.
“Me!” cried Meg Nash.
“Not me!” mumbled Little Willie Splasher.
You can believe Little Willie Splasher was miffed. And he looked glum. But he said nothing. Peter Brown, Jack Santos, and Meg Nash were beautiful tall pine trees for the school play.
So it’s no wonder Little Willie Splasher decided that being little was like being good for nothing! And the more Little Willie Splasher thought about it, the more unhappy he became. That’s why Little Willie Splasher went to school one Monday feeling gloomy. He went to school on Tuesday feeling like a rotten egg!
But leave it to foxy Teacher Hushposher. He called Little Willie Splasher in from recess. Now when Teacher Hushposher called you in from recess, you were in trouble! So you can believe poor Little Willie Splasher was pretty scared when he faced Teacher Hushposher. Especially since Little Willie Splasher had no idea what kind of trouble he was in!
Teacher Hushposher cleared his throat. He took a long, hard look at Little Willie Splasher and said, “What is your problem?”
“Why nothin’. Nothin’ at all,” Little Willie Splasher replied.
“Come, come now.” Teacher Hushposher said. “I haven’t seen you smile for a week. And you never speak unless you are spoken to. There has to be something wrong.”
At first Little Willie Splasher insisted there wasn’t, but finally he blurted, “It’s just that I’m never big enough to do anything.”
“Oh, that’s it!” Teacher Hushposher grinned. “Someday you will find out that being little is no problem at all. Now run along and play.” So Little Willie Splasher hurried outside to play, but his heart wasn’t in it.
It was that very afternoon, right in the middle of spelling, that someone let out a shriek and cried, “Myrtle the turtle is gone!” Everyone gasped at the empty bowl on Teacher Hushposher’s desk.
“Tut, tut, now,” Teacher Hushposher exclaimed. “That turtle must be right here in this room.”
As Teacher Hushposher looked all around and under everything, the class did, too. It was Jack Santos who spied Myrtle the turtle in the corner under the reading table.
“I’ll get her!” cried Peter Brown, who was used to being big enough to do everything. He tried. And he tried. But he couldn’t! For Peter Brown was too big to squeeze in between the table and the supply cupboard where Myrtle the turtle was snoozing.
“I’ll get her!” cried Jack Santos. “I’m thinner.” So he tried. And he tried. But he couldn’t! For he was too big, too!
“I’ll get her!” Meg Nash cried next. “After all, I have the longest arms.” So she tried. And she tried. But she couldn’t, because she was too big and her arms weren’t long enough!
Teacher Hushposher frowned. “If we only had a little fellow who could squeeze in there and pick Myrtle the turtle up, our problem would be solved,” he said.
Little Willie Splasher’s heart was pounding. His bright little round face was smiling. And before Little Willie Splasher knew it, he heard himself say, “I’ll get her!”
And Little Willie Splasher, who was never big enough to do anything, got up and did something no one else could do because they were too big!

Joseph Smith learned well the relationship between being humble and receiving the Spirit of the Lord. David Whitmer said:
“At times when brother Joseph would attempt to translate … he found he was spiritually blind and could not translate. He told us that his mind dwelt too much on earthly things, and various causes would make him incapable of proceeding with the translation. When in this condition he would go out and pray, and when he became sufficiently humble before God, he could then proceed with the translation. Now we see how very strict the Lord is, and how he requires the heart of man to be just right in his sight before he can receive revelation from him. …
“To illustrate so you can see: One morning when he was getting ready to continue the translation, something went wrong about the house and he was put out about it. Something that Emma, his wife had done. Oliver and I went upstairs and Joseph came up soon after to continue the translation but he could not do anything. He could not translate a single syllable. He went downstairs, out into the orchard, and made supplication to the Lord; was gone about an hour—came back to the house, and asked Emma’s forgiveness and then came upstairs where we were and then the translation went on all right. He could do nothing save he was humble and faithful.” (As quoted in B. H. Roberts, A Comprehensive History of the Church, 1:130–31.)

Illustration by Carolyn Vibbert
I wanted to send my son on a mission, but selling one kilo (2 lbs.) of bibingka (rice cakes) a week wasn’t enough to be able to support him on a mission.
My son helped the family financially and was too worried about our financial condition to feel comfortable leaving. It was a constant struggle for our family to make money. I was proud of my 25-year-old son for his righteous desire to serve the Lord, but I realized that we would need some kind of miracle to make his dream of serving a mission come true.
I joined a self-reliance group. By being proactive and exercising my faith, I knew that my family would be blessed. During one meeting, I was prompted to go to a public market. There, I saw many women selling native snacks. I made a deal with one woman. I told her I would leave my products in the morning for her to sell and collect the profits at the end of the day. The arrangement was beneficial to both of us. I soon found more sellers. My business grew to 10 sellers during my time in the self-reliance group.
I learned to separate my personal money from my business money and pay myself a salary. I learned to stop spending time making products that didn’t sell and focus instead on what was profitable. I also learned about marketing with social media. My action partner from the self-reliance group helped me create a Facebook account. From there, we learned about branding and packaging. My business eventually grew to the point that my husband could quit his physically demanding job and work with me.
Someone recently asked me how my sales were going. I proudly told him I am now selling 12 kilos (26 lbs.) of rice cakes.
“12 kilos a week is great!” he said.
“No, brother,” I said. “I sell 12 kilos per day.”
My son later told me he was happy that my business could now provide for our needs.
“Looks like I can serve a full-time mission now,” he said.
He is now serving in the Philippines San Pablo Mission. I am so grateful for the self-reliance initiative. The Lord truly meant it when He said, “It is my purpose to provide for my saints” (D&C 104:15).

During the summer, I did odd jobs to earn money. That summer I was working as a service station attendant. A man who worked there was a member of the Church, and he invited me to attend MIA (Mutual). At first I hesitated, but he was persistent, and I finally gave in. The warmth and friendliness of the members and missionaries impressed me, but again the music influenced me most. Their hymns sounded different from any I had ever heard.

When I first started reading the Book of Mormon, it seemed strange to me. The only name in the book that was familiar to me was the name of one of Nephi’s brothers—Sam! But there was a force that drew me to the Book of Mormon. I felt that if I were to become a member of the Church, my life would become much more meaningful.

When I told my older brother that I would like to be baptized, he said, “That would be fine. But if you become a member, you must be a lifetime member. You must commit yourself and be loyal.” I was baptized when I was sixteen.

After high school, I was in the military, and I had the opportunity to have an interview with Elder Harold B. Lee, who was then an Apostle and who later became President of the Church. It was a very precious time for me. For an hour he counseled me to go on a mission, to go to the House of the Lord, and to sustain the leaders of the Church. This same advice applies to every member of the Church.

I never forgot Elder Lee’s advice. I came to Salt Lake City, Utah, on furlough and went to the Salt Lake Temple. After I left the military and went to college, I saved money for a mission. During my mission, I was able to open the Okinawa area, where my father was from, for missionary work. Later, serving as president of the Tokyo Temple, I had the wonderful blessing of seeing many of the Japanese Saints receive their temple endowments. Seeing the joy in the faces of those being sealed was a great blessing.

Boys and girls, prepare yourselves to go to the house of the Lord. Going to the temple will be the greatest thing you can accomplish in your mortal life. In the temple, you can feel the Lord’s presence and know that He is there. You can kneel at the altar and make sacred covenants. The Lord will always keep His part of these covenants. When you keep your part of them, you will receive the greatest gifts, eternal life and exaltation.

You can begin now to prepare yourself spiritually, mentally, and physically by keeping the commandments, by being clean in mind and body, and by being faithful and loyal to our Heavenly Father. If you will do these things, you will be led toward the sacred covenants of the temple. Then you will have peace and be happy, no matter what trials and tribulations you meet.

You can also learn to search your family history so that your ancestors can have the same temple blessings. We will meet them some day and know them as our relatives. All the people of the world will some day have the same privilege. The Lord has many wonderful blessings awaiting us if we just take advantage of them.

I was so excited! I had turned 12 about two weeks ago and had received my first temple recommend on Sunday. My dad was going to take me to the Spokane Washington Temple for the first time as a birthday present.
On the day of our trip, I was ready to go an hour early! I was just so eager to go! We finally got into the car and listened to hymns on the trip there, which really brought in the Spirit that day.
My mom had prepared some family names for me and my dad to take to the temple. While I was entering the font I had expected this huge spiritual experience, but that didn’t happen. What did happen was that I was baptized for one of my deceased relatives, and I felt a still, small voice whisper to me, “You are doing the right thing.”
On the way home I really thought about what had happened at the temple. I realized I didn’t need the huge spiritual experience I had been expecting. I was so glad I had the Holy Ghost with me that day so that I could hear the still, small voice.
I’m so thankful for the temple and all of its blessings! The temple has brought me and my family great blessings, happiness, and experiences with the still, small voice.

Some of the missionaries in places that had been hard hit decided to make the most of the situation and make good use of their time even though tracting was impossible. “The sister missionaries in our area stayed in our home at this time so they’d have food and because no one was supposed to be out except for cleanup,” said Bishop Bob Horner of the Naches Ward, Yakima Washington North Stake. “They got on the phone and called everyone in the phone book, saying that they were from the Mormon church, and asking if people were okay.
“It was a time when people were scared to death, and it was comforting for them to talk with someone. They were so impressed that the sisters would care enough to call that Sister Karen Miller and Sister Colleen Cummings got 45 contacts through those calls. The sisters felt that since they were on the Lord’s time, they couldn’t waste it. They are two of the greatest missionaries we’ve ever had,” said Bishop Horner.

Many say that steps four and five, which focus on personal inventory and confession, are the most challenging. But it depends on the individual. Paula, who struggled with compulsive eating and overdependence in her relationships, worked hardest on step eight—forgiving and restoring relationships—as she tried to forgive her abusive father. She says now, “I can’t tell you how grateful I am for this miracle in my life: to love and forgive.”

Although these two girls speak different languages and live more than 6,000 miles (9,600 km) apart, they have something special in common: they both found ways to keep a positive attitude when natural disasters struck their hometowns. Take a look at the true stories of Honoka O. from Japan and Maggie W. from Missouri, USA. During sad and scary times, what helped them stay faithful and optimistic?

My name is Honoka, and I live in Chiba Prefecture, Japan. I like to play, jump rope, and draw. My dream is to be an illustrator someday.

My favorite scripture story is about Lehi’s dream (see 1 Nephi 8). I think Primary is very important because I can learn a lot about God and Jesus. I love sacrament meeting because I can feel myself becoming clean when I take the sacrament, and that makes me so happy.

I was at school when a big earthquake happened. My first thoughts were, “This is scary!” and “I wonder if my family is OK.” I prayed in my heart that they would be safe and that peoples’ lives would be spared. Later I found out that none of my friends had been hurt. At that time, I felt that God had protected us. I know that God and Jesus live.

Hello! I’m Maggie from Joplin, Missouri. One night my mom saw storm warnings on the news, and we all went to the basement. The loud, whistling wind scared me. I was worried about my friends and our animals. After the storm, I was grateful my family was safe and our house didn’t have much damage.

Lots of other homes and businesses were destroyed by the tornado that came through town. I felt sad for people who lost loved ones. My parents and older brother and sister decided to help clean up our town. It made me think of the scripture, “When ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God” (Mosiah 2:17).

I wanted to help clean too, but my mom said it wasn’t safe for a child. Then I felt the Holy Ghost share a great idea to make people feel happy. I made 20 thank-you notes to give to volunteers. I spent lots of time making each card special so that people could feel the Spirit and know they were very important to our town.

I learned that even if you can’t do certain things to serve, you can always think of other ways to serve. Heavenly Father will bless you for serving Him and your fellowman.

One day I was working at the kitchen table and I had a feeling to check on my little brother. I looked up and saw him in his walker heading for the stairs. I ran over and pulled him away before he could fall. I know that the Holy Ghost whispered to me so that I could help keep my brother safe. I am thankful that when I was baptized I was able to receive the gift of the Holy Ghost.Spencer D., age 9, Arizona

For the past 20 months, our family has been blessed with the privilege of having a very special baby.
Little Paxton, our grandson, was born with a very rare chromosomal deletion, a genetic disorder that distinguishes him, literally, as one in hundreds of millions. For our daughter and her husband, an uncharted, life-changing journey began when Paxton was born. This experience has become a crucible for learning special lessons tied to the eternities.
Dear Elder Russell M. Nelson, who just spoke to us, taught:
“For reasons usually unknown, some people are born with physical limitations. Specific parts of the body may be abnormal. Regulatory systems may be out of balance. And all of our bodies are subject to disease and death. Nevertheless, the gift of a physical body is priceless. …
“A perfect body is not required to achieve a divine destiny. In fact, some of the sweetest spirits are housed in frail frames. …
“Eventually the time will come when each ‘spirit and … body shall be reunited again in … perfect form; both limb and joint shall be restored to its proper frame’ (Alma 11:43). Then, thanks to the Atonement of Jesus Christ, we can become perfected in Him.”1
To all of you who have challenges, concerns, disappointments, or heartaches with a dear one, know this: with infinite love and everlasting compassion, God our Heavenly Father loves your afflicted one, and He loves you!
Some might ask when faced with such suffering, how could Almighty God let this happen? And then that seemingly inevitable question, why did this happen to me? Why must we experience disease and events that disable or call precious family members home early or extend their years in pain? Why the heartaches?
At these moments we can turn to the great plan of happiness authored by our Heavenly Father. That plan, when presented in the pre-earth life, prompted us all to shout for joy.2 Put simply, this life is training for eternal exaltation, and that process means tests and trials. It has always been so, and no one is spared.
Trusting in God’s will is central to our mortality. With faith in Him, we draw upon the power of Christ’s Atonement at those times when questions abound and answers are few.
After His Resurrection, when visiting the Americas, our Savior, Jesus Christ, reached out to all with this invitation:
“Have ye any that are sick among you? Bring them hither. Have ye any that are lame, or blind, or halt, or maimed, or leprous, or that are withered, or that are deaf, or that are afflicted in any manner? Bring them hither and I will heal them, for I have compassion upon you; my bowels are filled with mercy. …
“And it came to pass that when he had thus spoken, all the multitude, with one accord, did go forth with their sick and their afflicted, and their lame, and with their blind, and with their dumb, and with all them that were afflicted in any manner; and he did heal them every one as they were brought forth unto him.”3
Great strength can be found in the words “all the multitude … did go forth”—all, brothers and sisters. We all face challenges. And then the phrase: “that were afflicted in any manner.” All of us can identify, can’t we?
Shortly after precious Paxton was born, we knew Heavenly Father would bless us and teach us special lessons. As his father and I put our fingers on his tiny head in the first of many priesthood blessings, the words came into my mind from the ninth chapter of John: “that the works of God should be made manifest in him.”4
God’s works are definitely being made manifest through Paxton.
We are learning patience, faith, and gratitude through the balm of service, endless hours of intense emotions, tears of empathy, and the prayers and expressions of love for dear ones in need, especially Paxton and his parents.
President James E. Faust, my boyhood stake president, said: “I have a great appreciation for those loving parents who stoically bear and overcome their anguish and heartbreak for a child who was born with or who has developed a serious mental or physical infirmity. This anguish often continues every day, without relief, during the lifetime of the parent or the child. Not infrequently, parents are required to give superhuman nurturing care that never ceases, day or night. Many a mother’s arms and heart have ached years on end, giving comfort and relieving the suffering of her special child.”5
As described in Mosiah, we have witnessed the Savior’s pure love given to Paxton’s family, which love is available to all: “And now it came to pass that the burdens which were laid upon Alma and his brethren were made light; yea, the Lord did strengthen them that they could bear up their burdens with ease, and they did submit cheerfully and with patience to all the will of the Lord.”6
One night early in Paxton’s life, we were in the neonatal intensive care unit of the wonderful Primary Children’s Medical Center in Salt Lake City, Utah, marveling at the dedicated, undivided attention given by the doctors, nurses, and caregivers. I asked my daughter how we would ever pay for this and ventured a guess at what the cost would be. A doctor standing nearby suggested that I was “way low” and that little Paxton’s care would cost substantially more than I had estimated. We learned that much of the expense for care given in this hospital is covered by the generous gifts of time and monetary contributions of others. His words humbled me as I thought of the worth of this tiny little soul to those who were so carefully watching over him.
I was reminded of a familiar missionary scripture that took on new meaning: “Remember the worth of souls is great in the sight of God.”7
I wept as I pondered the limitless love our Heavenly Father and His Beloved Son, Jesus Christ, have for each one of us, while learning in a powerful way what the worth of a soul is, both physically and spiritually, to God.
Paxton’s family has learned they are surrounded by countless heavenly and earthly ministering angels. Some have quietly slipped in when needed and silently slipped out. Others have been at the door with food, doing the laundry, picking up the siblings, calling with encouragement, and especially praying for Paxton. Thus another special lesson learned: If you come upon a person who is drowning, would you ask if they need help—or would it be better to just jump in and save them from the deepening waters? The offer, while well meaning and often given, “Let me know if I can help” is really no help at all.
We continue to learn the important value of being aware of and interested in the lives of those around us, learning not only the importance of giving help but also the overwhelming joy that comes from helping others.
Dear President Thomas S. Monson, who is such a magnificent example of lifting the downtrodden, said: “God bless all who endeavor to be their brother’s keeper, who give to ameliorate suffering, who strive with all that is good within them to make a better world. Have you noticed that such individuals have a brighter smile? Their footsteps are more certain. They have an aura about them of contentment and satisfaction … for one cannot participate in helping others without experiencing a rich blessing himself.”8
Though we will face trials, adversities, disabilities, heartaches, and all manner of afflictions, our caring, loving Savior will always be there for us. He has promised:
“I will not leave you comfortless: I will come to you. …
“My peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.”9
How grateful we are to our Father in Heaven for our champion Paxton. Through him the Lord has manifest His works and continues to teach us these valuable, sacred, and special lessons.
I would like to close with the words from a beloved hymn:
We are all enlisted till the conflict is o’er;
Happy are we! Happy are we!
Soldiers in the army, there’s a bright crown in store;
We shall win and wear it by and by.10
Brothers and sisters, it is my hope and prayer that we will continue to bear nobly our burdens and to reach out to those among us who are suffering and in need of being lifted and encouraged. May we each thank God for His blessings and renew our commitment to our Father in Heaven of humble service to His children. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Occasionally I visit nursing homes, where long-suffering is found. While attending Sunday services at one facility, I noticed a young girl who was to play her violin for the comfort of those assembled. She told me she was nervous and hoped she could do her best. As she played, one called out, “Oh, you are so pretty, and you play so beautifully.” The strains of the moving bow across the taut strings and the elegant movement of the young girl’s fingers seemed inspired by the impromptu comment. She played magnificently.
Afterward I congratulated her and her gifted accompanist. They responded, “We came to cheer the frail, the sick, and the elderly. Our fears vanished as we played. We forgot our own cares and concerns. We may have cheered them, but they truly did inspire us.”

A young adolescent came to see me one day saying that he was having trouble communicating with his dad. In fact, he said, they never spoke but what they nearly came to blows. He went on to say that he thought his father was often behaving quite childishly. I was struck by the general level of maturity displayed by this 16-year-old. I vividly recall my reply to him, because when I finished one sentence, he looked at me and said, “I’ll do it.” His clipped response was in reply to this question: “Why don’t you become your father’s father and treat him the way you’d like him to treat you?”

One day we had a special devotional on the Savior as part of our early-morning seminary class. The girl in charge bore her testimony of Christ, then asked each of us to share our feelings. Our teacher, Brother Pratt, added his testimony, and said we needed to know Christ died for each of us individually.
While I was listening to the others bear their testimonies, it occurred to me I wasn’t really sure I had a testimony of the Savior. I had always attended church and seminary classes, and I thought he was Heavenly Father’s Son, and an example to follow, but I wasn’t really sure of him as my Savior—someone so essential to my salvation.
I managed to give some sort of reply and spent the next several days pondering over the experience and praying to know for myself. I received a warm feeling that the Church was true and that I should live its teachings. I felt good about that answer and decided that having a basic testimony of the gospel and living the standards of the Church was enough. But I still didn’t understand the need for a Savior.
Later I moved from home. Eventually I faced a serious crisis that left me with deep emotional and spiritual pain. Without the necessary faith in Christ to guide me, I felt lost and alone. I had stopped praying sometime earlier and had just decided that I was no longer going to go to church. Then my home teachers, Dan and Terry, came by. I was a little embarrassed because I hadn’t been to church that day and had no good excuse for my absence. The Spirit told them that something was seriously wrong, so they persisted in presenting a lesson that seemed to be especially for me. They visited with me for a while, and when it was time for them to go, they offered a powerful prayer. The Spirit lingered after them for a short time, and I felt more hopeful than I had in a long time.
I wanted that Spirit to remain. I gathered up the remnants of my faith and offered a prayer. Because I hadn’t been praying for a while, I had no real hope or expectation of an answer. But as I knelt and prayed, I felt an overpowering warmth come into my heart. Complete love and understanding filled the room. I was surprised at the depth and strength of the Savior’s love—how well he knew me!
There was no room for misunderstanding or doubt as he lovingly empathized with my challenges. All of a sudden a black cloud lifted, and I knew, as words came into my mind, where I could improve, and the Savior promised me all the help I would need. I learned that there is indeed a loving Heavenly Father and a Savior, Jesus Christ, and that they know each of us as individuals. I also learned that they will give us the help we need as we extend our faith in them. And, no matter what, we must always pray.
Although I still had problems to overcome, I knew the Savior was there, ready to help; I have never felt completely alone with my problems since. I can now say, along with the hymn, “I know that my Redeemer lives” (Hymns, no. 136). And I am grateful.

A year after her baptism, Erika received her mission call to Hungary. “I was happy to be called to serve my own people in my own language. But I worried whether I was worthy to be the first Hungarian citizen to serve in Hungary and if I would be able to give the people what they needed. I prayed about it and felt many special feelings that night. I knew that God loved me and my family. I felt very close to God.”

Antonio follows Jesus by sharing his testimony. One Sunday before church, Antonio decided he would share during testimony meeting that day. He wrote his testimony down in a notebook and read from it. “I shared my belief that Jesus Christ died on the cross and that He loves every one of us and cares for us,” he says.
Antonio knows that sharing his testimony helps him feel the Holy Ghost. It also helps him feel closer to his grandad who died a few years ago. He says, “I know my grandad and my entire family support me, and that helps my testimony to grow!”