Gospel Story Finder

Although she could barely see over the leafy branches she carried, Willa knew she was near the bees because of the low humming sound. She dropped the branches and pushed her sunbonnet back off her head.
“Come, Willa,” her grandfather called. “I want to show you something.”
Willa hesitated to join Grandfather, who was standing by several straw hives fastened onto a four-wheeled cart.
“Come, Willa, the bees are too busy to think of you today. There is much honey for them to gather.”
Willa walked carefully to where Grandfather stood and looked where he pointed. She could see a cluster of bees hanging on the outside of one of the hives.
“They are so crowded in there that they will soon swarm,” he explained. “Then when the queen flies out, many will follow her. After they are gone, a new queen will hatch to lay eggs for those who remain.”
“Where will they go?” asked Willa. She stifled the urge to swat at the bees humming past her face.
“Probably to a nearby tree. They’ll gather there and send out scouts to find a new home. I’ll make a new hive for them so we can catch them and bring them back to the cart.”
“How will you get them into the new hive?” asked Willa. She was edging away from the cart, hoping Grandfather would follow.
“If they gather on a small branch, we can cut it off and bring it down to the hive. Then we’ll turn the hive upside down and shake them in.”
Being anywhere near those thousands of swarming bees frightens me, thought Willa. She knew her grandfather wasn’t spry enough to climb trees, and by the way he kept saying “we” she knew she would be asked to help.
She looked to where the covered wagons were gathered.
“Maybe my friend Kurt will help you hive the swarm,” she said hopefully.
“The bees will fill themselves full of honey before they fly off, and it’s hard for a full bee to bend her tail to sting,” Grandfather encouraged, patting Willa on the shoulder.
He gathered up the branches and began to place them on the hickory pole framework built over the cart. The branches would provide shade for the hives.
“It’s still a long way to the Salt Lake Valley,” he said. “I was told that no bees had been seen there. We must take our own to pollinate our fruit trees.
“I want you to learn to help with the bees, Willa. I won’t always be able to do the work,” Grandfather said, putting his arm around her waist as they walked to their wagon. “I’d like you to gather lots of long dry grass to make the new hive. I’ll go down to the river to find something to use for the binding.”
That afternoon Willa sat with Grandfather in the shade of the wagon to watch him make the hive. Kurt came from his wagon to watch too.
“This kind of hive is called a skep,” explained Grandfather. “My father taught me how to make them. He gave me this bone needle that I use to pull the binding through the straw. When he came from Holland on a sailing ship, he brought his bees with him.”
“Like the Jaredites!” said Kurt.
“Yes, like the Jaredites,” agreed Grandfather.
“They carried their bees in barges across the ocean to the promised land,” said Kurt. “I read about it in the book of Ether.”
“‘And they did also carry with them deseret,’” quoted Grandfather, “‘which, by interpretation, is a honey bee; and thus they did carry with them swarms of bees. …’” (Ether 2:3.)
Willa sat on the seat of the wagon the next morning while Mother combed her long, honey-colored hair. “Mother, I’m afraid of the bees,” she confessed. “I’ll never forget how it hurt that time when I was stung.”
“Your grandfather knows a great deal about bees,” encouraged Mother. “If you do as he says, they probably won’t sting you.”
“But I’ll still be afraid,” murmured Willa.
“Sometimes it’s good to be afraid,” said Mother. “Only the foolish are never afraid. The brave are those who keep trying even when they are afraid.”
Willa sat in silence as her mother wrapped her braided hair in a golden crown around her head.
Suddenly Mother said, “Listen! The bees are swarming.”
Willa jumped down from the wagon and saw a cloud of bees gathering about the cart. “Call Grandfather,” she cried. “I’ll follow them.”
The bees flew to a large tree by the river with Willa in hot pursuit. She watched as they collected into a mass of crawling bodies on a branch above her head. When she caught her breath, she began to call out so Grandfather could find her.
He arrived carrying the new hive and a wooden plank. Inside the hive were a pair of gloves and a wide-brimmed hat covered with cotton netting.
“You’re a plucky girl, Willa,” said Grandfather as he squinted up at the swarm. “Do you think you can climb that high?”
Willa looked at the tree. She knew she could, but the sight of those thousands of bees gave her a cold feeling in her stomach.
“I’ll go get Kurt,” she called as she ran back to the wagons. However, a few minutes later she returned wearing a pair of britches. “Kurt is sick,” she explained, still breathless from running. “He can’t come, so I borrowed these pants from him. I’ll climb the tree.”
Grandfather helped her put on the hat. He made sure the netting fit closely about her shoulders and neck. Willa put on the gloves and took the knife Grandfather pulled from his pocket.
“Remember, child,” cautioned Grandfather, “the bees are happy, and they’re full of honey. But you must be careful not to shake them loose from the branch or they’ll fly away again.”
Willa was able to sit on a branch and reach the limb where the bees hung like a living Christmas stocking.
As she cut the branch, bees walked over her gloves and down the long sleeves of her blouse. They hummed about her head and settled on the netting hung from her hat.
She had the branch free and was climbing down when she felt a bee crawling into her glove. A hot, stabbing pain shot through her hand. She lost her grip on the branch and it fell with the swarm. But Grandfather caught it handily in the upturned hive. Then he turned the hive over with the bees inside and set it on the plank.
“We’ll leave them there,” said Grandfather as he helped remove the bees from Willa’s clothes. “By evening they will all go inside and we can carry them back to the cart.”
Later that night as she helped Grandfather carry the hive back, Willa thought, What Mother said about being brave is true. It helped a lot. Aloud she mused, “Grandfather, do you remember that line from Shakespeare that says: ‘Cowards die many times before their deaths; The valiant never taste of death but once.’ I think I died at least a thousand times in that tree this afternoon.”
“But you were brave, Willa, and for your effort I want to give you this hive of bees.”
After the hive was fastened to the cart, Willa said excitedly, “Grandfather! Why don’t we call this new colony Deseret, after the Jaredites’ bees?”
“That’s it, Willa!” Grandfather said, taking off his hat and rubbing his head. “I think it’s a perfect name. Honeybees are a true symbol of industry and harmony,” he added, “and the name will just suit them.”
Willa watched while Grandfather put screen on the hive entrances and hitched the cart to their wagon so they’d be ready to leave early in the morning. When he was done, he gazed at the hives a moment before turning to go. “Deseret,” she heard him murmur contentedly as he walked away.
Willa touched the sting on her hand. It felt better already.

Too soon the term came to an end. When I came back from vacation, Scott Anderson was gone. “Moved,” somebody told me, “back to Utah.” I clung even more to his famous one line in memory of our friendship.
It was a fresh April day at the Apothecary Outdoor Restaurant when I had a final chance to use Anderson’s line. We had just finished our salad and were beginning our soup when an acquaintance of my mother stopped to greet us. He added the usual, “And what are you going to be doing next year, Jack?”
“I will be going on a mission for the Mormon church, sir,” I replied.
“You will?” He seemed more than astonished. “Why I didn’t know you were Mormons!”
“We’re not,” my mother smiled her let’s-get-on-to-other-things smile.
“But I am,” the man went on. “As a matter of fact, I’m bishop of the Manhattan Third Ward.”
“A bishop? I’ve heard of bishops,” I said. “You see, I had this friend at school …”
And so I met Bishop Beesely. And now I am going on a mission for the Mormon church. My father thinks that I am tomorrow’s Dr. Livingstone because I am going to South Africa.
My mother, though, is her same plural self. Just yesterday she said, “We’ll be needing some white shirts and dark suits now, won’t we, Jack?”

I conclude with an experience that has helped me to deal with unanswered questions. A few years ago, my husband and I were invited to a gathering of many experienced Church leaders. A new presiding officer had recently been called, and at the end of the meeting a very difficult and contentious question was asked. Realizing the difficulty of the question, my husband and I immediately offered up our sincere prayers to Heavenly Father on behalf of this new leader. As he came to the pulpit to respond to the question, I witnessed a change in his countenance as he stood majestically, squared his shoulders, and spoke with the power of the Lord.

His response was something like this: “Brother, I do not know the answer to your question. But I will tell you what I do know. I know that God is our Eternal Father. I know that Jesus Christ is the Savior and Redeemer of the world. I know that Joseph Smith saw God the Father and His Beloved Son, Jesus Christ, and was the instrument through which the power of the priesthood was restored to the earth. I know the Book of Mormon is true and contains the fulness of the gospel of Jesus Christ. I know we have a living prophet today who speaks for the Lord to bless our lives. No, I do not know the answer to your question, but these things I know. The rest I take on faith. I try to live this simple statement of faith I learned years ago from Marjorie Hinckley, wife of President Gordon B. Hinckley, who said, ‘First I obey, then I understand.’”

About 150 years ago, 402 Latter-day Saints left their homeland in Europe to come to America. A Sister Jackson recorded a spiritual experience in her journal. She wrote that one night during the voyage, when the ship was near the shores of Cuba, it was particularly pitch dark and no one could see anything. The captain was afraid that the ship might be wrecked as he knew that land was near. Suddenly, a heavenly light illuminated the surroundings for a few seconds, revealing to the captain that a large rock rose boldly out of the ocean right in front of the ship only a short distance away. The captain quickly turned the ship just in time to avoid hitting the rocks. A terrible disaster was avoided because of the Lord's help. All 402 Latter-day Saints arrived safely in New Orleans.

Of course, when he* became Explorer adviser in the Orlando First Ward, the young men were interested in diving and so together they earned the tuition and attended scuba classes. Seventeen young men (including Bishop George Parkhurst) finished the certification course. To celebrate their success they went diving off Singer Island near Palm Beach, Florida. They made two dives on Friday and two on Saturday, each about 35 minutes apiece in water 60 to 80 feet deep.
The beautiful underwater world that each person on the trip got to see seemed like another universe. Once the young men slid into the water, they merged into a world of brightly colored coral, sponges, sea anemones, sea fans, and hosts of small tropical fish. They also got to meet many marine creatures including the small, harmless nurse sharks, the more dangerous moray eels, and barracuda, grouper, snapper, and other larger fish.
Brian Solomon, 17, found it hard to believe even after he had seen it. “The part of the trip that sticks out in my mind is how beautiful ocean life is. No matter how many pictures you see, it doesn’t compare with what you can see in person. Observing some of the sea life close up was something I’ll never forget. Imagine swimming along and then looking down and spotting a four foot barracuda making eyes at you!”
Dale Strange said, “As we descended to the bottom we began to see the coral and the animal life. Time seemed to fly so fast in that world that an hour could seem like just a few minutes. It was all new and unreal to me even though I have always been interested in the ocean.”
Besides giving the boys something to learn and master together, the classes also gave them greater appreciation for their leaders. Brian Solomon summed up the feelings of the group: “The classes and the trip were great, but our experiences with our leaders were even greater. Each one of them did his part and more. I wish everyone could meet them and feel their spirit.”

Returning What Was Stolen
Many years ago when I was practicing law in California, a friend and client who was not a member of our faith came in to see me and with great enthusiasm showed me a letter he had received from an LDS bishop of a nearby ward. The bishop reported that a member of his congregation, a former employee of my client, had taken materials from my client’s work site and had rationalized that they were surplus. But after becoming a committed Latter-day Saint and attempting to follow Jesus Christ, this employee recognized that what he had done was dishonest. Enclosed in the letter was a sum of money from the man to cover not only the cost of the materials but also interest. My client was impressed that the Church through lay leadership would assist this man in his effort to be reconciled to God.
Elder Quentin L. Cook of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles

One summer, as a teenager, I worked on an oyster boat off the coast of Long Island in New York to earn funds for college. The other members of the crew were seasoned oystermen, hardened by the harsh winter environment in which they spent much of their lives battling the icy ocean and raw wind to secure their catch. I was an enigma to them, easier to distrust than to understand. They shunned me as a company spy, then as a crazy kid who didn’t know how to be a man. Later, I became better at my duties and tried to build friendships. They offered to make me “a real man” by joining them on their all-night indulgences. I thanked them but declined, and the tension grew more intense.

The summer weather was beautiful and the ocean magnificent. We were engaged in relatively simple tasks, such as transferring small oysters to a more distant portion of the sound where the nutrients accelerated their growth and improved their flavor. Except when a dredge full of oysters was dumped onto the deck, signaling a flurry of intense activity, there was much time for contemplation. While my deck mates dozed by their shovels, I read and pondered the content of the Book of Mormon. I cannot adequately express the powerful awakening within me that came from those weeks of study of the Book of Mormon under singularly unusual circumstances.

We slept in envelope-type bunks sandwiched into the restricted space between the ship’s diesel engine and hull. One night at dockside I retired early since some of the crew planned unrighteous activity outside our boat. I was suddenly shaken into consciousness by the powerful hand of a deck mate, Toddy, a giant of a man. He was brandishing a hammer in my face, and his breath reeked of alcohol. Stunned, I realized that there was no way that I could escape him. I thought I had come to the end of the road. Then I heard what he was shouting, “Scotty, get your fins and mask. There’s a man overboard, and you can save him.”

That night I learned a lesson I have never forgotten. Publicly the crew members ridiculed me, but privately they respected me for my standards. The confidence that came from that knowledge let me quietly help three of them with some serious personal challenges.

Over the years, I have found that the things I learned about the temple as a young missionary in Ohio have blessed my family and me. For example, in the temple a year after we were married, my wife, Amy, and I received an impression that it was time to have a child. We were students, and because of tight finances I was tempted to cast the prompting aside. But the Lord was preparing us.
We had three miscarriages over the next two years, and I wondered, “Why the prompting to have children if we’re not able to have them?” Then we moved to California, worked with a fertility specialist, and finally had our first child, Mackenzie.
By following the inspiration we received in the temple, we began a process that took three years. If we had not followed the prompting when we did, it would probably have been at least another three years before we had our first child. We count that experience as a blessing of preparation and revelation.
We had a second child, Emma, but then we had another miscarriage and the loss of our son, Stewart. In subsequent months and years, as we sought peace, we learned that most of the symbols in the temple point us to the Savior and the healing balm only His Atonement can give.
I am grateful for the blessings of the temple. I testify to you that it is a place of preparation, revelation, and peace.

It takes forever to clean the slate when you get behind in your nut cracking. Once our family was planning a vacation. Dad decided that we weren’t going until everyone had his nuts cracked. Those who didn’t have nuts to crack were encouraged to help the others. We started out being grumpy, but by the end, we were all working together and actually enjoying it! Spending that time together, just talking while we were at our nut cracking, made us closer.

When I left to serve a mission, my mother and sister were members of the Church. Six months later my mother wrote me a letter, saying, “I found an extra copy of the Book of Mormon in our home. Your father said I must have put my book in the wrong place. I’m so excited. Something is happening.” We later found out that four months after I left, my father stopped the missionaries in the street to ask them what a mission was like, where they ate and slept, how they were supported, and what their schedule was. He wanted to know why this Church was more important to me than anything else.
Eight months after I left, I received my first letter from my dad. He wrote, “On 2 December 2000, I was baptized. Little by little I learned about the gospel. I am so proud of you. I’m so proud of my girl who didn’t give up and pulled us onto this path.” By the time I finished my mission, all of my family members were converted to the gospel and many relatives and friends had decided to join the Church.

Jung Sung Eun of Korea didn’t pass the qualification exam to become a teacher. Tina Roper of Utah, USA, lost a job that she had expected to turn into a career. Todd Schlensker of Ohio, USA, received a spiritual confirmation to marry but saw his engagement come to an end. Alessia Mazzolari (name has been changed) of Italy ended what appeared to be the perfect relationship.

Todd faced a bright future upon returning from his mission. While attending school, he met a wonderful young woman. After several months of courtship and a spiritual confirmation, Todd proposed and she accepted. They planned their wedding for the end of the summer, and both returned home from school to prepare.

“Three weeks after we said our good-byes at school, she ended our engagement,” Todd recalls. “Heartbroken could not express my feelings strongly enough. There were so many unanswered questions in my mind; it didn’t make sense. I had received a confirmation in the house of the Lord, and now our relationship was over. My testimony had never been tested this hard.

“Unfortunately, for years following my breakup, I couldn’t get past it. I didn’t know how I could ever trust a feeling of confirmation again. I had always trusted in the Lord and tried my best to keep the commandments,” he continues. “It all seemed for naught.”

In their respective experiences, Todd and Alessia both eventually recognized that even though a key relationship in their lives was altered, they couldn’t abandon their obedience and allegiance to the Lord. He became their anchor when everything else was changing and uncertain.

“I didn’t have all the answers to why I got a confirmation to marry someone, and it didn’t happen,” Todd recalls. “But I realized that didn’t matter. What did matter is that I still had faith in Christ, and I was going to use that faith to trust in whatever the Lord had in store for me.”

After being confronted with unanticipated setbacks, all four of these young adults struggled to find the courage to live in the present and again plan for the future. But they found that their faith in the Lord grew.

Todd continued trying to date for six years and worked to develop trust in the Lord. Even when he met women he admired very much, he had to fight to keep his doubts from the past from destroying his hopes for the future. “Finding the determination not to succumb to my doubts of six years was not easy,” he says. “But I was firm in attempting to prove to myself that I really did trust in the Lord and His promptings, even though I had been angry with Him before.” A new relationship eventually led to a temple marriage.

“I often wonder why the Lord blessed me with someone as great as my wife when I struggled so long to fully trust the feelings of the Spirit,” reflects Todd. “It is a testimony to me that the Lord is waiting to bless us, but it’s always on His timetable.”

I first met Latter-day Saint missionaries at a train station when I was 19. I could tell that there was something special about these young women, and I felt an urge to talk to them. So I approached and asked what they were doing in Taiwan. They told me they were missionaries and began to talk about the gospel. Over the course of several meetings, I learned about Jesus Christ, His restored gospel, and the Book of Mormon. It was the last of these topics—the Book of Mormon—that caused me to join the Church.
I can still remember my experience praying about the book. After reading from it one night, I closed the book, knelt down, and asked my Heavenly Father if it were true. I felt a blanket of warmth surround me, something I had never felt in the Buddhist temples I had attended all my life. This feeling was different. I knew someone was listening. In that moment I went from believing the Church was true to knowing it was true, and I decided to be baptized.
The Book of Mormon has continued to bless my life since then. It blessed me when I served as a missionary.
It has also blessed me in my callings. While serving as an institute teacher, I learned that the Book of Mormon was written for our day.1 But in preparing my lessons, I found that statement is not only generally true, but it’s true for specific people in specific situations at specific times. For instance, sometimes as I prepared to teach, one of my student’s faces would come into my mind, and I would recognize something particular I needed to teach for that person’s benefit. Such promptings occurred frequently and were confirmed when a student would talk to me after class to let me know the lesson was exactly what he or she needed.
Finally, and perhaps most meaningfully, the Book of Mormon has guided my personal life. I remember turning to the scriptures when I was about to end a dating relationship. I felt a great deal of anguish. But a verse I read, 2 Nephi 10:20, spoke directly to my heart and gave me a calm feeling: “Now, my beloved brethren, seeing that our merciful God has given us so great knowledge concerning these things, let us remember him, and lay aside our sins, and not hang down our heads, for we are not cast off; nevertheless, we have been driven out of the land of our inheritance; but we have been led to a better land, for the Lord has made the sea our path, and we are upon an isle of the sea.”
Remembering the Lord, as that verse suggests, gave me courage and hope. I could rely on the “great knowledge” of the gospel that God had given me, and I could be assured that I was not “cast off.” There were good things ahead.
It was a great blessing to believe the missionaries’ words as I investigated the Church. It is far greater to know the truthfulness of the gospel, particularly the validity of the Book of Mormon, for myself. I know that God lives and that He teaches us directly and personally through the scriptures.

“Mother helped us feel a closeness with our father. She made him a reality for us while we were growing up. I remember once when I was twelve going out with the bishop of our ward in Vernal to take baskets of fruit to the widows. When we pulled up in front of our house and the bishop gave me a basket for my mother, it was a shock. I never thought of my mother as being a widow, because we still had a father. He and Mother had been married in the temple, and I knew that he was with us, although he was on the other side of the veil. He loved us and knew what we were doing.

“I was raised in a home where faith was present and the commandments were taken seriously. I didn’t get a testimony of the gospel at any particular time. I just grew up with it! I didn’t really know what a strong testimony I had until I got to graduate school. Then, when I was confronted with a lot of questions and challenges, I found that I was strong. I think my mother’s faith was the greatest single factor in my testimony.

“The most important thing I can say to children is this: Lots of you boys and girls are having difficulties. Some of you have the challenge of not having a mother or father in your home. Some of you have physical handicaps. Others of you feel frustrated and inadequate because you can’t do the things you think you’re supposed to do—you can’t throw the ball far enough or you think you aren’t attractive, for example. Everybody has those feelings. Problems like these are part of the experiences that all of us have in this life.

“Remember that sometimes the greatest blessings our Heavenly Father gives us are blessings that come out of what we first think are hardships and problems.

“Hang on. Keep trying. Say your prayers. Trust in your Heavenly Father. He loves you, and He will bless you to carry on and accomplish what you need to accomplish in this life so that you will receive all of His choicest blessings in eternity.”

When Heber J. Grant was a young man, he worked for an insurance agent, Mr. H. R. Mann. He treated Heber like a son.
Mr. Mann: Heber, why don’t you go to the baseball game this afternoon and then come tell me about it during supper?
Heber: Thanks, Mr. Mann!
Besides working for Mr. Mann, Heber earned money writing greeting cards and wedding invitations. He stayed at the office late into the evening, spreading his greeting cards on his large office desk to let the ink dry.
On New Year’s Eve, Mr. Mann’s partner, Mr. Wadsworth, found Heber still busy at the office writing greeting cards.
Mr. Wadsworth: Heber, what on earth are you doing?
Heber: Getting my cards ready to sell tomorrow.
Mr. Wadsworth: You are the only one I’m going to give a New Year’s present to. You seem to enjoy work while most of the other boys watch the clock to see how soon they can leave.
Heber: Wow! A hundred dollars?
Heber later said that knowing he had earned the confidence of his employer meant much more to him than the money. It inspired him to succeed in business and in the community.
As prophet, he taught young people to be hard workers too.
Heber: Be inspired with a desire to labor and learn, and you will achieve success in the battle of life.

Each Dominican youth has a cherished conversion story to tell. “I was invited to a church activity with some friends,” says Pedro Rodriguez, “and was really impressed. I began reading the scriptures on my own, and I knew I wanted to be a missionary and share what those books contained with everyone else. I was baptized soon after that, and I’m waiting my year before I can serve. I never knew I could feel so much.”

The Portuguese, he says, are very humble, and many will listen open-mindedly to the missionaries. His countrymen are also “very giving, and eager to help others.” That makes many of them strong in Church service. President Martins lists a number of examples in his own stake, including Antonio and Mae Leme.
The Lemes were also among the LDS pioneers in Portugal. Natives of Brazil, they moved to Europe in 1965 when Antonio, a pilot, was hired by the Portuguese national airline. Mae Leme was trying to help her son obtain his Eagle Scout rank when she met Geraldine Bangerter, who was providing help to a group of Scouts. Mae soon learned that Sister Bangerter was the wife of Wm. Grant Bangerter, mission president in Portugal for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. (Elder Bangerter was called to the First Quorum of the Seventy in April of 1975 while serving as mission president.)
Mae expressed a polite interest in learning more about the Church, and Sister Bangerter sent the missionaries immediately. The Lemes investigated carefully for seven months. The Church in Portugal was still only a handful of members meeting in a Lisbon hotel room when they joined.
Antonio Leme is now bishop of the Oeiras Ward, created in a Lisbon suburb early this year. “I really believe if you are called to do something, God gives you the means to do it,” he reflects. After reaching the mandatory age for retirement from flying, he was so busy in Church callings that he felt as though he had not retired at all. But, he adds, it is a privilege to serve. “I never get tired of giving my time to the Church.”

People have asked me, “Why do you do this every week?” My answer is that my family started this habit a long time ago. I’m the youngest of 12 kids, and for as long as I can remember I’ve seen my mom coming home from the early Saturday morning temple session. She promised Heavenly Father that if she ever lived near a temple she would go often (for her, once a week), and she has kept her promise ever since my family moved close to a temple many years ago.

Robert learned an important principle while serving in the military. Each unit in his squadron had a motto that had been chosen to inspire the pilots in their efforts. “Our unit motto (displayed on the side of our aircraft) was Return with Honor,” says Elder Hales. “This motto was a constant reminder to us of our determination to return to our home base with honor after we had expended all of our efforts to successfully complete every aspect of our mission.” This motto has served as a reminder of the importance of honesty and integrity in his personal and professional life. As a father, he put his arms around each of his two sons before they left to serve their missions—Stephen to England and David to Germany—and whispered, “Return with honor.” He still refers to this motto today.

Every June my parents go rafting on the Snake River near Jackson Hole, Wyoming. In 1991 my dad let me float the river for the first time. I had waited a long time to be able to go. I felt very excited as I dressed, first in my swimsuit, then in my wet suit. I put on my life jacket and climbed into the raft with my mom and dad, and the other adults with us.
The river was muddy and running very high due to a heavy spring snow melt. The color of the water was like hot chocolate. I rode in the very front of the raft with my feet tucked under the thwart (rower’s seat), and held tightly to the front rope. I laughed and screamed as we rode through the rapids. The water was very cold, so I ducked my head as the big waves crashed over me. To keep the boat straight, the adults paddled through the rapids. During the calm parts, we would talk and laugh.
My dad thought that we had already passed a dangerous rapid called Three Ordeal. He doesn’t like going through it because it’s a hydraulic wave, which means that it’s like a big washing machine with one strong wave. He says that it’s like riding over a spillway, then getting caught on the powerful wave at the bottom.
The adults were talking during a calm stretch in the river, and the raft was floating kind of sideways. My dad looked up and realized that we were heading right for Three Ordeal. He had just enough time to get the boat straight. The grownups started paddling as hard as they could to pick up enough speed to pull us over the wave.
I ducked my head as we hit the first big wave, and when I looked up, I saw Uncle Jerry being thrown from the raft. Clinging to the rope, I looked around. The raft was empty except for me! The force of the wave had knocked all the adults into the churning river. I learned later that the force of the collision folded the raft in half, with the back almost touching the front.
While the adults were being swept downriver, the wave trapped the raft and me in the middle of the river. The raft twisted and turned and rocked up and down like a teeter-totter. I was very scared, but I clung to the rope, keeping my feet wedged under the thwart. I looked for my mom and dad—where were they? Should I jump into the river with everyone else? What should I do?
Then I felt something in the middle of my heart tell me, “Stay in the raft.” Suddenly I felt calm instead of panicky. I felt I was being helped and protected. I believe it was the Holy Ghost. I obeyed the prompting and stayed in the raft. Soon it broke free of the roaring wave and started floating down the river. Oh, what a feeling to be safe and protected by the Holy Ghost!
Once I didn’t have waves crashing around me, I saw my aunt and uncle on the bank. Again I wondered if I should jump in the river and swim to the shore. Again I had a strong feeling to stay in the raft. I kept still, and the raft floated to the bank by itself. I grabbed some branches and held on to them until a friend came and tied the raft to a bush.
I learned many things from that experience. I learned that as soon as the adults reached shore, they prayed that Heavenly Father would protect me. Twice I had felt the promptings of the Holy Ghost. Twice I obeyed the promptings and was kept safe from the dangers of the river. I learned that maybe the raft didn’t float to the bank by itself after all. I learned that Heavenly Father can accomplish things when people can’t. He can accomplish all things.

Several years ago I needed to get my car inspected for safety and emissions standards. I arrived at a garage one afternoon to find the line for inspections eight or nine cars long.
It was a beautiful spring day, so I decided to roll down the windows, turn off the car engine, and pull out a copy of “The Family: A Proclamation to the World,” which I kept in my car along with other Church materials. My stake president had recently counseled stake members to commit the proclamation to memory. This free time gave me the perfect opportunity to do so. Eventually, my turn came to have my car inspected.
One of the men who did the inspections indicated that he would drive my car into the garage. Then he asked me to wait in an adjacent room until the inspection was completed. Time passed as I watched other customers come and go. After a while I began to think that something serious must be wrong with my car.
Finally the mechanic came from the garage into the waiting room and indicated that my car had passed inspection. What a relief! I paid the cashier and walked out to where he had parked my car and found him waiting for me.
“Miss,” he said, looking at me intently, “can I please talk to you for a minute?”
“Of course,” I told him.
“I want to apologize for taking so long with your car inspection. You see, when I drove your car into the garage, I noticed a piece of paper on the passenger seat that talked about families. Instead of immediately returning your car to you, I sat in the garage and read that piece of paper over and over.”
He continued, “What is this church? What is this document on the family? Can I have a copy of it? It says it was written by Apostles. Do you mean to tell me that there are Apostles on the earth today just like in Jesus’s time? Please, I need to know.”
I was almost speechless but gathered my thoughts. I told him that there are indeed apostles and prophets on the earth, just as in the time of Jesus Christ. I told him about the Prophet Joseph Smith and the Restoration of the gospel. I then gave him all the Church materials I had in my car. He gave me his name and phone number so the missionaries could contact him. Our conversation ended with his sincere expression of gratitude.
As I drove away, tears filled my eyes. I was grateful I had left a copy of “The Family: A Proclamation to the World” on the car seat.
I have never forgotten the look of eagerness in that man’s eyes. This experience was an unforgettable lesson on the power of the proclamation on the family, the reality of modern-day revelation, and the importance of sharing the gospel in everyday—and sometimes unexpected—situations.