Gospel Story Finder

Elliot Grow had it made. The summer before his senior year of high school, he was an aspiring lacrosse player with a promising future, and it looked like he just might land a starting spot on his school’s basketball team as well. But calamity struck for Elliot one day in June when he tore the meniscus cartilage in his knee during a recreational league basketball game.

Surgery came shortly thereafter, followed by three months of intense physical therapy. It was a lot of hard work, but Elliot persisted. Eventually he made it off the crutches and back onto the basketball court. Some people would probably complain about the months of lost training and the pain, but Elliot feels a sense of gratitude.

“I feel blessed that I am still able to do what I love. I love playing lacrosse. I love playing basketball. I don’t take that for granted anymore. When I am out there, I play as hard as I can and I don’t only play for me. My little brother had a brain tumor when he was three, so he can’t do some of the things that I’ve been able to do. Now I play for him.

“Before my injury, I would have thought, ‘My body is mine. I can do whatever I want with it,’” he says. “But after this surgery, I have realized that my body is a gift and I should take care of it the right way.”

Joël Topka, a 19-year-old member of the Akéikoi 1st Ward in the Abobo Cote d’Ivoire East Stake, has been admitted to the Nandjui Abrogoua University of Abobo, Abidjan to study natural sciences. Being accepted at the university and studying to become a teacher has always been Brother Joël’s dream. But the path to achieving this goal has been full of obstacles. “There have been many paths to travel and many rivers to cross,” he said.
Joël lost his mother at the age of 8 when he lived in Yopougon Sicobois, a sub-district of Abidjan with homes built with precarious materials. His mother had been a street sweeper and she raised him alone. They had been very poor, but happy. Upon the death of his mother, Joël’s father decided to withdraw any financial support for his son and Joël was taken in by his maternal grandfather, who was also destitute. He soon found himself alone without support, tossed from home to home. He eventually ended up living with a hospitable relative in Abobo, Cote d’Ivoire, but this relative also had very limited means.
Determined to continue his studies, he decided to work as a child wheelbarrow from the 5th grade until the 12th grade to ensure that he would have the funds necessary to further his education at the local private college in Abobo. Wheelbarrow children, wheelbarrow tanties or baggage tanties, are young children or teenagers who transport vendors goods within the traditional markets of Abidjan for small sums of money.
Joël worked during his off-hours from classes, public holidays, and vacations to earn as much money as possible. He worked very hard and was able to save enough money to cover his school expenses, and after having received his high school diploma, he was able to pay his initial entrance fees to the university.
The hard work was not the only sacrifice that he had to make. To save the necessary funds he often went without meals. “During recess at school, my friends went out to buy food, I didn’t. I told them that I had already eaten in the morning before coming to school. In reality, I couldn’t afford these meals,” he says with a little smile today.
There are still challenges ahead. Although his entry fees and initial tuition have been paid, he still must maintain his employment to assure that he can continue to meet his educational costs. He also has a desire to serve a mission.
“Paying my tithes and honoring the Sabbath has given me great strength. I do not lose hope and dream of being a teacher one day after my mission,” he said.
Joël’s resilience and determination has provided him with ability to overcome significant challenges at a very young age. His story teaches us some important things: that sacrifice and hope can overcome obstacles that stand before us in our lives.

Let us first examine the sense of hearing. For example, I picked up the phone one day to hear a voice say, “Would you hold the phone a moment? President Kimball would like to speak to you.” After extending a call to serve as a mission president, he asked that I keep the call confidential until it appeared in the Church News. I anxiously waited for the news. Three or four weeks passed without any confirmation of the telephone conversation. I honestly began to wonder if I had actually heard the prophet’s voice. Without some verification, I learned, I did not completely trust my hearing.

My mother, Margaret, moved from Switzerland to the United States as a young woman. Not long after that, she had an appointment to receive her patriarchal blessing. But when she went to meet with the patriarch, he wasn’t there. For whatever reason, my mother felt like that was confirmation the Lord didn’t have anything to tell her, and she never rescheduled her appointment.
From time to time over the years, I would suggest to my mother that she reconsider receiving her blessing. She was one of the most faithful women I ever knew. However, she was so humble that she replied that she didn’t merit anything special from the Lord. She didn’t need a blessing, she said, because she was just a simple girl. And she was OK with that.
Finally, when she was 90, we convinced her to schedule an appointment with her patriarch. Ironically, there was a miscommunication with this patriarch as well, and when Mother showed up, the patriarch was out of town. “See?” she said. “I told you the Lord has nothing special to tell me.”
Fortunately, she and the patriarch were able to meet the next week. When the blessing was given, it was filled with gifts, promises, and details about her life that were so personal they could have come only from the Lord’s knowledge of her.
“I guess the Lord did have something to say to me, after all,” she said.

Last month on Brian’s day, he and Dad went to the park. Daddy pushed him in the swing and on the merry-go-round. They played together in the sandbox and built a sand castle. Brian had a lot of fun playing with Dad, but he thought that the best part was when they just talked.

He liked the talking time best because he learned things about Daddy, and Daddy learned things about him. Brian knew that his dad is a real estate agent, but last month he learned what that meant: His dad sells houses to people.

Dad asked Brian, “What is your favorite thing to do at school?”

Brian smiled and said, “I like to paint with my feet! I like the way it feels when the thick paint smushes through my toes.”

Travelling to the Temple in West Africa was often a serious challenge. The Saints in Sierra Leone made an excursion to Ghana to attend the temple. Because of an insurrection it was impossible to cross the border through the Ivory Coast so they travelled three days circumnavigating the Ivory Coast through Burkina Faso. As they travelled, they were stopped by robbers and at gunpoint all their money and personal effects of value were stolen. Blessed to still be alive, they decided to proceed anyway to Ghana where they spent the week seeking the blessings of the temple. Nothing was more important to them than the eternal blessings that could be obtained in no other place than the Temple. Why would they risk so much to go there? They wanted and needed those sacred experiences which have eternal worth.

My seminary teacher used the article “Extra Strength” (Jan. ’02) in one of her lessons. That very day, a friend from school was asking me questions about the Church while we were in the weight room. I tried to answer him the best I could but didn’t feel my words were very influential. But I felt impressed to do as the young woman in the article did. The following day I gave my friend the new For the Strength of Youth and told him it contained the guidelines written for teenagers to follow. It felt good to have done this small missionary effort.
Marek de SavignyDunrobin, Ontario, Canada

The afternoon sun hung low in the sky as Martin walked along the path that led from his family’s summer home to the lake. A vivid splash of orange and pink streaked across the sky. This was a path he had walked many times before. It was all familiar to him: the trees, rocks, even the old boathouse at the end. He knew it all well. Often he had walked along this path to go fishing or swimming, yet tonight he had something else on his mind.
The wooden boards of the boathouse came into view as he came over a ridge in the trail. As a child he had played in its walls with his brother. It would become the fort as they were under attack from an imaginary enemy, or a stop along a spy trail. They had spent so much of their youth there. But tonight the memories of the past faded to reflections in the dirty windows. He and his younger brother had both grown, and those playful times were gone.
He stopped for only a few minutes to look through the dusty windows. He wiped the cobwebs away with his hand. Inside, the family rowboat sat, waiting for someone to come. Against the wall were several old fishing poles and boat oars. Several buckets and shovels were scattered across the floor. His mother had stacked all the life jackets in the corner, all but one that lay on the floor near the door. He moved around to the front and opened the door. The rusted hinges moaned with age and time. He pushed the buckets away and made his way to the pale orange life jacket. He picked it up and held it for a moment. His mind drifted back to those days when his father would say, “Don’t go in the boat without a life jacket!” So many times he had heard these words. He smiled and held the jacket close to his chest.
He walked from the boathouse toward the water’s edge. The tired sun cast long, golden arms upon the water in a final embrace. As he walked, Martin put the old, worn jacket on over his black school sweatshirt. As he reached the weathered dock, he stopped. Again memories crept into his mind. He had spent countless hours at this dock. Here, his father had taught him to dive. This was where he had looked for a sunken treasure chest with his brother. He smiled at the thought of so many summers. He bent down and gathered a handful of stones before strolling onto the dock. A single lamppost at the end greeted him with a dull yellow glow. The feeling of his first summer romance filled his chest. Here below this very lamppost, he had said his good-byes to the “girl of his dreams.” They had parted with a small kiss, and his summer had ended.
He sat on the end of the dock and removed his dusty canvas shoes. He then rolled his khakis up over his calves so that he could let his feet dangle in the water. He sat almost breathless as he marveled at the beauty of the evening. So many colors, so many pictures, all painted by God’s skilled hand. He let his feet down into the cool lake. A shock ran up his leg as he felt the cold mountain water surround his ankles. The sounds of evening seemed to float through the air around him. How peaceful it all was. He looked at his reflection in the water. Where had the messy-haired little boy gone? he wondered. The face of a 20-year-old young man looked back at him. He dropped a stone into the lake. He dropped a few more. He looked up toward the sky to find the sun had now slipped silently behind the mountains. Only the tattered lamppost cast out a few dim rays. He dropped another stone and watched as it sank quickly to the bottom.
Martin had been at the top of his class in high school. Nothing was standing in his way. His future was so bright. Yet something was blocking that light. He also felt as if he had to struggle to keep his head above water. He saw himself as the stones that quickly sank below the surface. He wondered why life was so hard. The words of his father again rang in his ears, “Don’t go in the boat without a life jacket!” That’s what he had wanted to find, a life jacket for life. It didn’t matter if he was with his friends or alone, he just hadn’t been able to keep that little bit above all the waves of life’s problems.
Martin remembered the summer when a girl from school arrived at the lake. Her family had purchased one of the homes nearby. He had seen her around but had never said much to her. At school, he had noticed that something was different about her. He was happy to have someone to talk to. His brother had found other friends, so it was nice to find someone to spend the long summer days with. Many times they would take a boat out on the lake, or go for long walks, or just sit on the dock and toss pebbles into the water. One afternoon, they had walked to a small store in the town and made their way back to the dock. “Sarah, may I ask you a question?” Martin asked.
“Sure,” came the reply.
“You always seem so … happy.” He paused to find the words he wanted. “How is it that you can always be so happy when everything around us is so depressing?”
The answer he received shocked him, yet it was something that would change his life forever.
Summer soon drew to a close and school began. Martin found it easier to stay afloat as he thought of the words of his newfound friend. He set out to learn all he could about this new idea he had been given. He talked with his family, friends, and others he felt could help him. Sarah introduced him to two others who shared with him the knowledge he desired. They gave him a book and asked him to read it. As he did, the answers he had been looking for became clear. His life began to change, and the obstruction to his bright future seemed to move aside. So much just seemed to fall into place. He learned that he had a Heavenly Father and an elder Brother, Jesus Christ, who loved him very much, in addition to his earthly family.
Two years had passed since the afternoon when it all began. Martin now returned to the very spot where it was started by a simple question. But this time he knew the answers. He pulled his feet out of the water and drew his knees up to his chest. He looked again at the man in the water. He laughed as he saw the reflection. There he was sitting with an old life jacket on. He marveled at how much his life had changed. Everything seemed so clear to him. As he looked out over the lake, his heart began to pound with excitement, knowing he too would be able to share his new knowledge with people. Much like the two young missionaries who had taught him so much about the life he should live, he would be able to give the same to someone else.
Martin rolled over onto his stomach. He rested his chin on his folded arms. He thought of the words and ideas that had saved his life—the ancient writings of men who provided the wisdom and counsel for which he had searched. He closed his eyes and offered a simple prayer of thanks. Martin thanked his Heavenly Father for sending his Son to make such a change in his life possible. Tears began to well up in his eyes. He focused again on the image in the water. Two tears broke the surface. It was almost as though he felt the warmth of a hand on his shoulder and knew his elder Brother was near. He sat for a moment longer; then he sat up and put his shoes on. He stood and removed the old life jacket. As it fell to the dock he smiled and spoke the familiar phrase, “Don’t go in the boat without a life jacket!”

It was final exams week at my university. As I walked home, my last test loomed heavily on my mind. I just couldn’t wait to finish it, pack my things, say a tearful good-bye to friends, and drive home to be with my family again. Before I knew it, I would be entering the Missionary Training Center and flying across the ocean to serve in the England Manchester Mission—if I could just make it through this last exam.
I was met at the apartment door by my roommate frantically telling me our apartment manager would be coming soon for check-out inspections. My anxiety heightened when I realized that, to avoid fines, my tasks would have to be completed before I went to take my final exam.
“What are my responsibilities?” I asked. She shoved the signup sheet at me and scurried off, noticeably guilty that I had been left with the last and most dreaded of the cleaning jobs: defrosting the refrigerator.
“Well, how bad can it be?” I thought. With my work, school, and social schedule, I was practically never home. In fact, I don’t think I ever opened the freezer that semester. What I saw shocked me. Three inches of ice entombed a bag of frozen vegetables along with several other unidentifiable items. Inwardly I groaned, knowing I would have very little time to cram for my test.
Without time to let the refrigerator defrost correctly, I turned to more creative ways. I tried picking at it with silverware, but the ice was solid. I borrowed a screwdriver and began chopping at the ice, making some headway. Encouraged by my progress, I became a bit careless, and after chipping away a large piece, I heard a quiet “sssssssss” sound, like air seeping out of a tire. Upon closer examination, I discovered a small puncture to the plastic-covered piping at the back of the freezer. After a few attempts to repair the hole, I called the apartment manager, who soberly congratulated me on “buying” my first refrigerator.
The weight of his words on my mind equaled the weight of the refrigerator. In one careless moment, I had incurred a debt I couldn’t possibly hope to pay. My savings were for my mission, and even then, I had to rely heavily on my parents for financial help.
I called my mom and dad in my time of great need. I felt terrible. After all they had done for me, how could I ask them to buy a useless refrigerator? I will never forget the feelings of love and compassion my dad expressed, assuring me that he would find a way to pay for it on my behalf.
Though I greatly appreciated his help at the time, it wasn’t until I was on my mission, trying to teach someone about the Atonement that my mind turned back to my broken refrigerator experience.
Essentially, we all have a debt, a broken refrigerator so to speak, that we can’t possibly pay for. Because of Jesus Christ, we do not have to suffer and carry the burdens of sin if we choose to repent. He has paid the price for each of us. It is only in and through His love and grace that we are able to go on and progress toward exaltation.
I echo the words of the prophet Jacob: “Oh how great the plan of our God!” (2 Ne. 9:13). Heavenly Father’s plan of salvation is so perfect, so complete. I am and will be eternally thankful for the Atonement of Jesus Christ. I know He loves me.
“For some reason, we think the Atonement of Christ applies only at the end of mortal life to redemption from the Fall, from spiritual death. It is much more than that. It is an ever-present power to call upon in everyday life. When we are racked or harrowed up or tormented by guilt or burdened with grief, He can heal us. While we do not fully understand how the Atonement of Christ was made, we can experience ‘the peace of God, which passeth all understanding’ (Philip. 4:7).”—President Boyd K. Packer, Acting President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, “The Touch of the Master’s Hand,” Ensign, May 2001, 23.
These verses are good cross-references for the third article of faith: Mosiah 3:9, 17; D&C 84:20–22; D&C 130:20–21.
These articles in the Gospel Library at www.lds.org also talk about the Atonement: “The Light and Life of the World” (Ensign, Nov. 1987), by Elder Dallin H. Oaks; and “How Men Are Saved” (Ensign, Nov. 1974), by President Marion H. Romney.
Next month in this series, read about the first principles and ordinances of the gospel in a young woman’s conversion story.

The view from the top of the mountain should have been breathtaking. But in a whiteout at 12,000 feet (3,600 m) above sea level, the only thing we saw was the faint silhouette of our disoriented guide catching his breath a few feet away. The blizzard winds had obscured our path down the mountainside, while all around us sheer cliffs dropped down to unknown depths. The stinging snow whipped our frozen faces, and the roaring storm muted the question escaping from my friend’s chapped lips: “Which way down?”

Lured by an advertisement placed in the student center at Brigham Young University, my friends and I had signed up for the Mt. Nebo expedition months earlier. The photograph, which featured climbers with crampons and ice picks, promised awe-inspiring scenery and unparalleled adventure. But upon reaching the summit of one of Utah’s tallest mountains, our picturesque fantasy gave way to a terrifying reality. A blind step in the wrong direction could be fatal.

Although the weather forecast had been favorable, the weather was getting worse. Beginning our descent a few yards at a time, neither we nor our guide knew the direction we should take. We trudged through waist-deep snow, searching frantically for some sign of familiarity. The thick whiteness had erased our landmarks, and our tracks made hiking up the slope had vanished. Our hopes of getting off that peak safely were disappearing. It was time to ask the Lord for help.

No vocal prayer could have been heard by mortal ears above the menacing winds that day. With strength expiring and morale turning cold, I offered my silent plea to God: “Please help us down this mountain. Please help us see the way.”

As I opened my eyes on that snowy slope, an unusual calmness filled the frosty air. The sky swirled above us. The clouds had lifted! I gazed heavenward in gratitude to an omnipotent Creator who knows and hears His children.

For 30 seconds, the storm clouds parted. A patch of blue appeared through the thinning mists, and the sun illuminated a fantastic landscape below and the path that would lead us home. Too exhausted to speak, we stood in stunned silence when we saw our location. The slope we had mistakenly descended led to an abrupt dropoff on three sides. We had barely corrected our course when the sky clouded over again.

I often think of an experience I had while playing football in high school. I began playing American football when I was eight years old. All the way up until I graduated from high school when I was 18, I don't recall my father ever missing one of my games. I can especially remember during high school when he would sit in the bleachers and every time I would do anything remotely good, he would shout out as loud as he could, "Good job Kaj!" If I ran the ball, even if I didn't go anywhere, he would yell, "Good run Kaj!" Or, if I made a tackle, he'd shout, "Good tackle Kaj!" It seemed as if he had figured out just the perfect time to yell so that everyone in the stadium could hear him, including me and all the other players on the field. If there was a big play and the crowd was cheering loud, he would wait until the uproar began to die down and then during a moment of silence, yell his usually shout of encouragement. Often times as we came into a huddle on the field, my teammates would have smiles on their faces because everyone knew exactly whose Dad was shouting from the stands.
I remember one particular game when my Dad was in the stands cheering as usual. The coach called me off of the field to come to the sideline. As I sat there getting a drink, I heard a shout come from the stands, "Good tackle Kaj!" A little bit confused, I turned around and I looked for my dad in the stands, and I tried to get his attention to show him that I wasn't n the game, but I was on the sidelines. When I finally got his attention, he looked a bit surprised to see that I was sitting on the sideline, but then with a calm, assured look on his face, he gave me a thumbs up signal and then turned back to the game. After the game, I asked him what had happened and he he simply told me that he wanted everyone to know what a good player I was.
Although just a simple story from my life, I believe this experience demonstrates well how our Father in Heaven feels about us. He loves us and plays an active role in our lives. He encourages us every step along the way and blesses us for our efforts, even when we think our successes are minimal.

The Lord’s way of caring for the needy provides another opportunity for parents to bless their children. I saw it in a chapel one Sunday. A small child handed the bishop his family’s donation envelope as he entered the chapel before the sacrament meeting.
I knew the family and the boy. The family had just learned of someone in the ward in need. The boy’s father had said something like this to the child as he placed a more generous fast offering than usual in the envelope: “We fasted today and prayed for those in need. Please give this envelope to the bishop for us. I know that he will give it to help those with greater needs than ours.”
Instead of any hunger pangs on that Sunday, the boy will remember the day with a warm glow. I could tell from his smile and the way he held the envelope so tightly that he felt the great trust of his father to carry the family offering for the poor. He will remember that day when he is a deacon and perhaps forever.

I would like to thank you for the article “Profanity” (May 1992). I was teaching an investigator who asked me why the Church feels it’s wrong to swear when everyone does it. All that came to mind was this article and these lines: “It’s the same mouth you use to pray, bear testimony, and bless the sacrament.” That’s all I had to say, because tears fell from my investigator’s eyes.
Elder Dwayne VictorFlorida Tampa Mission

Several members of the Snow family, including 17-year-old Lorenzo, clambered into the carriage and drove off toward the Johnson farm, four miles away. The year was 1831, and recently a new religious group known as Mormons had sprung up in the area.
Word had been circulated that the Mormon Prophet, Joseph Smith, was to speak at a meeting at the Johnson place and the Snows, curious perhaps, decided to attend.
The Prophet was standing in the doorway of the house, addressing the group. Lorenzo later recorded his impressions thus: “He was only 25 years of age and was not, at that time, what would be called a fluent speaker. His remarks were confined principally to his own experiences, especially the visitation of the angel, giving a strong and powerful testimony in regard to these marvelous manifestations.”
Lorenzo concluded that Joseph Smith had not been deceived. Either the Mormon leader had, indeed, talked with the Father and the Son or he was an outright fraud. The boy was not religiously inclined at the time, and did not bother to find which of the possibilities was true.

I told him that I have a neighbor living across the street from me who, in 1950, came from Princeton University to the University of Utah. His name is Henry Eyring. At that time he had already gained eminence as a great scientist. He told us a story that I have not forgotten. He said that at one time he was invited to attend a world meeting of scientists. Each person present had the opportunity of standing before the group and saying whatever he chose. Dr. Eyring stood before this group of scientists and asked, “What is the Second Law of Thermodynamics?”
One of the scientists responded that if two bodies of different temperatures with no external influences are placed in conjunction the heat from one will flow to the other until they reach the same temperature—that is, a condition of equilibrium.
Dr. Eyring went on to explain what is meant by equilibrium. He said that if one saw water running down a creek bed, he would think that to be quite natural; but if he saw water running up the creek bed, he would think something was wrong. The water should be seeking its lowest level, or a state of equilibrium. If one saw a rock rolling down the side of a canyon wall, he would think that to be quite natural; but if he saw the rock rolling up the side of the canyon wall, he might think that to be quite unusual. The falling rock would be seeking its equilibrium. If a glass on a table were pushed to the side, it would drop to the floor, but one would hardly expect the glass to jump from the floor onto the table. The falling glass would be seeking its equilibrium. Then he asked, “If you were in the desert and found a watch lying on the desert floor, what would you conclude?”
One of the scientists responded, “That someone had been there before.”
“Furthermore,” Dr. Eyring queried, “If you picked up the watch and put it to your ear and found that it was ticking, what would you conclude?”
The response came: “That someone had been there recently and wound it up.”
Dr. Eyring continued, “We have an interesting phenomenon in the universe. We have a sun that is very hot and an earth that is relatively cold. Had they existed that way forever, according to the Second Law of Thermodynamics, they would be the same temperature—they would be in a state of equilibrium. But they are not. One it still very hot and the other relatively cold.”
Dr. Eyring then said to his colleagues, “Someone had to wind the universe up. Who was it?” Then he sat down.
Following the meeting he walked down the aisle with Dr. Millikan, who at that time was the world’s most renowned physicist. Dr. Eyring asked, “Dr. Millikan, what is the answer to my question?”
Dr. Millikan said, “Obviously, there is a creator.”
Dr. Eyring says that there are conflicts in science and religion. We have conflicts between science and science, and we have conflicts between religion and religion. But there is no conflict between true science and true religion, for when science finds the truth it will conform to the true religion. When Dr. Eyring left Pima, Arizona, to gain his education and to seek his fortune, his wise father said to him, “Now remember, son, you don’t need to believe anything that isn’t true. The gospel of Jesus Christ encompasses all truth. And if it isn’t true, it isn’t gospel.”

The Empty Pot by Demi The Emperor had given each child a seed. “‘Whoever can show me their best in a year’s time,’ he said, ‘will succeed me to the throne.’” At the end of the year, all the other children had pretty flowers to show the Emperor. Only Ping had an empty pot. But Ping was chosen to be the next Emperor—because of his honesty! Truly beautiful art illustrates this truly beautiful Chinese tale.

Fino all’annuncio del lock-down per Coronavirus a fine Febbraio credevo di essere una mamma organizzata. Con 3 figli a scuola tutte le mattine e il piccolino a casa, avevo organizzato una routine che mi consentiva di assolvere alle mie responsabilità e pianificare momenti tranquilli da trascorrere in famiglia. Rimanere confinati tutti in casa giorno e notte per un periodo indefinito scombussolò la routine e si rivelò inizialmente molto frustrante per me e il resto della famiglia. I piani giornalieri che fino a quel momento mi avevano consentito di essere efficiente nel rispondere alle esigenze della famiglia, da un giorno all’altro furono stravolti e le mie giornate diventarono un correre senza sosta verso la prossima riunione online, la prossima lezione, il prossimo compito di scuola, il prossimo pasto da preparare, ecc ecc. Il tempo sembrava aver perso la sua naturale regolarità e le settimane sembravano dissolversi in un unico giorno.
A questo disorientamento si aggiungeva giornalmente il peso delle notizie gravi riportate dai telegiornali sui contagi e sulle vittime del Covid-19, insieme al pensiero di amici e conoscenti che stavano combattendo personalmente contro il virus, per i quali avrei voluto fare di più, come poter pregare per loro al Tempio.
Per molti versi mi sentivo piccola e senza meta.
Una mattina decisi di alzarmi presto per fare esercizio fisico e nel silenzio della casa cominciai a riflettere sul viaggio che Lehi e la sua famiglia avevano fatto nel deserto. Per otto anni erano rimasti isolati dal resto del mondo, lontani dalla sicurezza che avevano conosciuto durante la loro vita a Gerusalemme per affrontare fatiche e privazioni che non avevano mai vissuto prima. Per tanti anni avevano vissuto senza potersi recare al Tempio ma erano sopravvissuti; in qualche modo erano riusciti a continuare giorno dopo giorno, prova dopo prova, e arrivare alla terra promessa. Il versetto in 2 Nefi 15, “e mio padre dimorava in una tenda”, continuava a tornare alla mia mente e cominciai a chiedermi come vivesse Lehi nella sua tenda e come avremmo dovuto vivere noi… cosa avremmo potuto fare per trasformare la frustrazione in motivazione e la nostra casa in una tenda come quella di Lehi, in una succursale del Tempio?
Per poterlo fare avrei dovuto organizzarmi diversamente.
Iniziai a stilare un elenco di cose da fare giornalmente per occupare al meglio il nostro tempo inserendo anche attività che non eravamo soliti fare in passato. Partendo al mattino dallo studio familiare del Libro di Mormon (cosa che già facevamo, ma non con regolarità assoluta), i bambini più grandi si dedicavano poi ai compiti e alle lezioni di scuola per potere avere il resto della giornata disponibile per altre attività come esercizio fisico, cucina con una sana alimentazione, pomeriggi trascorsi in balcone per beneficiare del sole disponibile, lezioni online, musica e inglese, momenti dedicati ai giochi in scatola, ai progetti di arte, di servizio per la comunità e organizzazione delle nostre scorte alimentari e dei nostri zaini di emergenza e per finire, alla lettura o alle attività basate sulle scritture durante le nostre domeniche a casa.
In poco tempo la nuova routine aveva aperto orizzonti diversi e le limitazioni dettate dall’isolamento forzato si trasformarono in opportunità di fare cose che non eravamo riusciti a realizzare prima come famiglia. La nostra tenda cominciava a riempirsi di buone attività.
Non tutto è arrivato insieme e non tutto è stato fatto sempre col sorriso, ma piano piano, giorno dopo giorno, siamo riusciti a creare una nuova routine efficace per gestire le circostanze.
Ora che siamo tornati a circolare più liberamente la nostra routine è cambiata, ma non è tornata quella pre-Covid-19; ne abbiamo invece creata una nuova, con un mix più regolare di attività in casa basate sullo studio e sul Vangelo e in mezzo alla natura per mantenere in forma il nostro fisico. Lo studio e l’applicazione del Vangelo è diventato un pezzo importante della nostra vita giornaliera e non è più qualcosa che dobbiamo ricordarci di fare ma il punto di partenza e di arrivo delle nostre giornate.
Non posso dire che la nostra casa sia diventata una succursale del Tempio, perché il percorso per arrivare ad una tale meta richiederà tutta la vita e forse di più, ma quando penso al nostro studio delle scritture, al silenzio e riverenza quasi perfetta raggiunta durante il momento del Sacramento in casa alla domenica, ai giochi dei bambini incentrati spontaneamente sulle storie del Libro di Mormon, e alle preghiere inginocchiati insieme in favore di tutte le persone afflitte dal virus e di chi si trova in difficoltà, allora spero di aver messo qualche nuovo picchetto alla nostra tenda familiare.
Spero che nel nostro viaggio verso la terra promessa, anche se in un deserto (per noi comunque pieno di agi rispetto alla famiglia di Lehi) possiamo avere la gratitudine e la forza di pensare a dove vogliamo arrivare e rendere questa meta parte di ogni nostro giorno, mentre dimoriamo nella nostra tenda familiare.

When Isabelle was a young girl, her dad worked in the French military. Their family moved around a lot. When she was eight, they moved to the Sahara Desert. There were no other Church members nearby, so they got permission to have the sacrament in their home.
Every Sunday, Isabelle and her family gathered in the living room and sang hymns they had memorized. Her dad blessed the bread and water for the sacrament. Then her parents and siblings took turns giving talks.
This showed Isabelle how important it was to live the gospel. Since they lived far away from other Church members, no one would have known if they stopped having church at home on Sunday. But they chose to do the right thing.
Two years later, they moved back to France, where there were more members of the Church. Isabelle was able to be baptized. Seeing her parents live the gospel in the Sahara Desert helped her testimony begin to grow. It gave her faith in God to do the right thing, even when no one was watching.

About six months before the end of the war, I was assigned to an outfit where incoming young people were trained on radar. We were stationed in the Harz Mountains, and I was about 17. One day we had to write a composition about Germany, and mine won. The officer had me stand in front of the whole outfit, and he said: “Congratulations for writing the best composition. I expect you to volunteer now to become an officer for the German Reich. We need people with your potential, and I expect your written application tonight.”

“I don’t have to wait until tonight,” I said. “I refuse.”
He got really furious and wanted to punish me. He said, “Tomorrow, I will ask you again, and the next day again.”
“Well, I’m not going,” I told him. I was not in tune with the spirit of national socialism. My father was a friend of the Jewish people, and we had always prayed for them in our home. I just wanted to get out of there with the others. He asked me what I wanted to do. “I want to go with the rest of the group,” I said. He told me if I didn’t want to volunteer I was ordered to stay behind and train the young people. There was no other choice.

Although I was forced to stay I felt very secure about it, like that was where I was supposed to be. All my friends were sent to Russia. Only one came back—all the others were killed.

I knew that coming back to the realities of life after a mission might be hard, so I wanted to do everything I could to stay on the covenant path.
So when my stake announced that the Buenos Aires Argentina Temple was looking for more ordinance workers, I volunteered. I had been praying for some direction in my life, and I also believed President Russell M. Nelson’s promise that “the Lord will bring the miracles He knows you need as you make sacrifices to serve and worship in His temples.”
I couldn’t think of a better way to keep an ongoing appointment with the temple than to be an ordinance worker!
My life was so busy when I started working in the temple. I had university classes, and my temple shift was quite a few hours each week. It was a sacrifice—but a wonderful one.
Over time, I noticed that when I paid attention to the words of the covenants that the temple patrons were making, my own covenants started becoming more meaningful to me.
For one, I have always believed the truth that families can be eternal through the temple sealing. And helping patrons do work for their ancestors and seeing their deep love for their families inspired me to do my own family history work. I was able to do ordinances for my aunt and my grandmother who had passed away, and this made the blessings of those covenants become so precious to me.
Another time, while I was helping in the baptistry, I was observing all the beautiful faces of the patrons. While I helped them, I felt the Spirit as I thought about the Savior’s baptism. Seeing my brothers and sisters in the temple deepened my testimony of the privilege of making covenants with God.
I have served as an ordinance worker for five years now, and I have had so many simple but profound spiritual experiences like these. They remind me of how powerful our covenants with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ are!
When I think about the blessings of covenants, I think of the people of Alma in Mosiah 24.
Despite facing so much hardship, Alma’s people remained faithful to Heavenly Father. They “pour[ed] out their hearts to him; and he did know the thoughts of their hearts” (verse 12). And in response, the Lord reminded them to “lift up your heads and be of good comfort, for I know of the covenant which ye have made unto me; and I will covenant with my people and deliver them out of bondage” (verse 13).
He also promised that He would strengthen them and make their burdens light (see verses 14–15).
And as the people of Alma kept their covenants, their faithfulness and trust in Heavenly Father’s timing freed them from bondage, and they “pour[ed] out their thanks to God” (verse 21).
I feel like this is what we can experience every day as God’s covenant people. The temple reminds me that when I find myself in “bondage,” either from challenges in or outside of my control, my covenants bind me to Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ.
Because of this covenant relationship, I have access to Their healing and enabling power.
I’ve always been grateful for my temple covenants. But being an ordinance worker has helped me see them as the life-changing gifts they are.
President Nelson also reminded us that “the reward for keeping covenants with God is heavenly power—power that strengthens us to withstand our trials, temptations, and heartaches better. This power eases our way. Those who live the higher laws of Jesus Christ have access to His higher power. Thus, covenant keepers are entitled to a special kind of rest that comes to them through their covenantal relationship with God.”
You don’t have to be an ordinance worker to see the power of your covenants in your life. If you simply visit the temple as often as your circumstances allow you to, with a desire to learn more, I know you will see the blessings President Nelson promises.
Regardless of how close you are to a temple, pondering the deep, beautiful blessings of covenants and how they connect you to Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ can help you stay joyful and faithful on the covenant path.
This has been true for me.