Gospel Story Finder

In the final story, Verinda, a vibrant young Apache girl, was accepted into the Indian Student Placement Service. She later gave this testimony:
“When I first participated in this program eight years ago, I got off the bus with only the clothes on my back and a few small possessions in a shoebox. I came from a humble home. My people are humble. But you have opened your hearts unto me. For that I am thankful. Now I can go home with a brand new suitcase of clothes. But that is not my wealth. I am wealthy because that which is inside of me is as precious as all of the wealth in this world. I have a testimony of the gospel. I know that Jesus is the Christ and that God lives and answers prayers. I now have a goal—something I can strive for.”

Sister A. J. Hough, also of the Kettering Ward, tells of how emphasis on For the Strength of Youth has helped her be a better parent: “Having three teenagers, I wanted to ensure that I, too, was living the standards completely. I was keen to find ways I could ‘raise the bar’ and set a good example. I decided on the section on ‘Sabbath Day Observance’ and have set myself new goals to improve the example I am personally. I hope I can be a better influence to those I love the most—my family. We now use the booklet during family home evening. And whether we’re being creative with our family activities or planning ahead to fully observe the Sabbath, we use these standards to guide us.”

Near my family’s home in St. George, Utah, was a big hill where I loved to play. One day as I was playing there with my older brother, Dennis, I slipped and tumbled onto a huge, prickly cactus plant. I had cactus spines everywhere—in my shoes, my trousers, my shirt. Frightened and in pain and scarcely able to move because of all those sharp spines, I started to wail at the top of my voice. Dennis tried to help by pulling out the spines, but that seemed to hurt even worse and caused my skin to bleed. Finally, to my surprise, Dennis turned without a word and ran down the hill. I thought, Oh boy, that’s great. Right when I need him, he runs away. I was afraid I was going to be left alone with that cactus in me forever.

Soon, however, I looked up, sniffling, to see him struggling up the hill with his small red wagon. He had run home to get it, and he pulled it all the way up the hill, tugging and pulling and huffing and puffing, so that he could take me home in it.

In some ways, the love my brother showed for me that day was like the love the Savior has shown for us. I would not have been able to return home without the help of my brother, just as we would not be able to return safely to our heavenly home without the selfless, loving help of our Savior, Jesus Christ. He paid a terrible price to do this for us, a price that caused him great pain and suffering. Yet because of him, our fears are calmed and we are able to have eternal life.

My name is Philip Crook, and I am nine years old. I am the oldest of four children in my family. The others are Ricky, 7, and my sisters Janene, 5, and Kristene, 3.
Nearly three years ago we moved to Cheney, Washington, so my dad could go to college and get his degree. One of my friends named Kathy asked if I could attend Primary with her. My folks thought it would be all right, and after I had gone with her several times, the Primary president gave me the Book of Mormon. I learned about prayer in Primary and my parents let me say a blessing on our food when we ate.
The first time I was ever in a program was in a sacrament service. All of my family went to hear me. When the meeting was over, my dad looked at Mother and said, “Guess what! The missionaries want to tell us more about their church. We ought to let them come since everyone has been so nice to Philip and us.”
The missionaries came every week, and each time they left, my mother and dad would sit on the front steps talking long after dark.
After two months Mother wanted to join the Church but Dad felt he was not ready because he could not give up his pipe. But before long he did, and then they were baptized.
We do a lot as a family now. I often hear my folks say, “I don’t know what we ever did without the Church.”
Now when we have problems we know our Heavenly Father will help us to understand and solve them.

After joining the Church, my great-grandfather, Ole Hansen, emigrated from Norway and settled in Menan, Idaho. In 1925, he obtained employment hauling sand from the Menan Little Butte quarry. As work progressed, workers would drive trucks or teams under a rock overhang to get a new load.
One morning, Grandpa Ole received a strong spiritual prompting: “This hill is going to tip over today.” His first thought was the hill could not possibly collapse, but he eventually investigated the top of the rock ledge. He was alarmed to discover a large crack along the ridge and knew he had to act. Though other workers were skeptical, Grandpa Ole finally convinced all to evacuate. Less than five minutes later, several tons of sand and rock fell where the evacuated men had just been working. Grandpa Ole’s ability to receive and respond to spiritual promptings saved more than 25 men that day.

A young couple took Alma’s words to heart. They learned that a woman in their BYU ward had been diagnosed with advanced leukemia. They opened their hearts to her, her husband, and their young daughter. Listen to what this couple did. They contributed the money they would have spent on Christmas to this family to help defray their mounting medical bills, and they visited the wife in the hospital, read to her, and brought small gifts to cheer her.
Six months after the diagnosis, this mother died. The young couple had planned to move east to pursue professional opportunities following graduation. They decided to delay their move so that they could help this newly widowed father while he completed law school. When the father went to class, the young couple cared for his two-year-old daughter. They planned a surprise birthday party for this dad, and, with help from the ward, they kept the meals coming. I can’t imagine that such extended service was easy for either this young couple or the widowed father.

In the Philippines, I visited a little branch in a lonely outpost. The members met in a tiny house elevated off the ground on stilts. An older woman indicated she was the mother and grandmother of most of those present in that little classroom.

Propped on a table and leaning against the wall was a blackboard on which she had neatly printed the main points of the lesson. Afterward, she told me the greatest thing she could do for her family and others was to teach. Over and over, she said to me, “I love my family. I teach them.”

I am so grateful that when the Lord established this Church, He gave us the law of tithing. I talked at one time with an officer of another church which, I understand, relies on the playing of bingo for a substantial part of its income. I said to this man, “Have you ever considered tithing to finance your church?” He replied, “Yes, and oh, how I wish that we might follow this practice instead of playing bingo. But I do not expect this change in my lifetime.”

In our home, when the bells first rang, we would sit at our brightly covered table and listen as Father read about the birth of our Lord. Then, as Mother had taught us, we three children laid our small, homemade gifts under the Christmas tree. Everyone was remembered—grandparents, uncles, and aunts. Even the birds got better food, and the dog got sausage.
As the bells rang on Christmas Eve, we would go for a walk. The snow glistened from the Christmas lights; it seemed as though we were walking in a sea of stars. The pine trees in front of all the homes were covered with candles. Carved wooden miners and angels, each holding a candle, peered at us from windows. Christmas displays depicted scenes surrounding the birth of the Christ child: shepherds in the fields, Wise Men coming to worship Him, Jesus resting in the manger, Mary bending over Him, Joseph protecting the small family, donkeys and sheep and shepherds kneeling.
After our walk, we would come home with eyes lit up by the winter night. Inside, we would be greeted by the smell of pine boughs. Cookies Mother had baked would be waiting for us.

When the Livingston Branch of the Kingwood Texas Stake put on a dance, it was a new page in their history.
The branch, with a total membership of 59, had never sponsored a stake activity, so the Mutual decided to remedy the situation and sponsor the next stake dance. They decorated the multipurpose room, planned refreshments, and sent out invitations. When the night came, more than double the expected number attended. It was a good night for dancing in Livingston.

An early experience of his own with spiritual guidance set Harold’s feet firmly on the path of obedience: “I was probably about eight years of age, or younger, when I was taken by my father to a farm some distance away. While he worked I tried to busy myself with things that a young boy would. … Over the fence there was a broken-down shed that looked very interesting to me. In my mind I thought of this broken-down shed as a castle that I would like to explore, so I went to the fence and started to climb through to go over to that shed. There came a voice to me that said this very significant thing, ‘Harold, don’t go over there.’ I looked about to see who was speaking my name. My father was way up at the other end of the field. He could not see what I was doing. There was no speaker in sight. Then I realized that someone that I could not see was warning me not to go over there. What was over there, I shall never know, but I learned early that there are those beyond our sight that could talk to us.”

“During the war, my father had to work on Sundays. Whenever he could find time, he attended sacrament meeting. During these years, Mother had to become a strong spiritual leader in the family. One of my vivid childhood memories of her is of the time she went to tithing settlement and discovered that we still owed about twenty-five dollars. As ward Relief Society president, she wanted the family to close the year as full tithe payers. Dad was working as usual and could not be reached. Mother suggested to the children that we talk about our family tithing problem and have a family prayer. When the prayer was over, Mother had an idea. We were living on a walnut ranch, so we sold enough of the walnuts in our cellar to pay our tithing in full!”

And ‘doing what’s required’ has been his guideline for the last five years. Prior to that, Jo’s legs were the same as most people’s—active.

Then came the blood clot in his spine. Only one in a million people ever suffer from this problem. Usually they are middle-aged and end up mentally retarded due to brain damage or even die.

Jo survived, perfectly normal except for his legs.

Despite frequent hospitalization, he has become more and more cheerful, relying on priesthood blessings and developing a testimony that takes him places where legs are not important.

Looking back, Jo has a clear picture of that turning point in his life. “I was prepared, through promptings of the Spirit, for the information that my legs would always be paralysed,” he says. “So when the doctor appeared solemnly saying, ‘I have something to tell you,’ I thought it must be, ‘Sorry, no hope, you’re going to die.’ When he said, ‘You’ll never walk again,’ it was a relief. I could handle that.”

That was the easy part. Adapting and learning to do everything differently was not. So Jo developed ways of dealing with setbacks. His favourite saying when things get tough is, “You can either laugh or cry, but if you laugh, people like you better.”

Jo did progress, becoming more and more independent and mobile.

His testimony also became independent. Although brought up in the Church, Jo had, earlier in life, gone through a less-active stage. He drifted in with the wrong crowd, did some things he regretted. Gradually, through the influence of missionaries, and to keep his mum happy, he returned.

“It was while I was in the hospital that I decided to find out for sure whether the Church is true,” he says. “I had plenty of opportunity to fast and pray in there as my visits lengthened into months.” (His spine began curving, needing replacement with bones from his ribs.)

By the end of the first fast, the Aylesbury Ward bishop turned up unexpectedly, offering to take Jo for a ride. “We entered a beautiful woodland area,” Jo recalls. “As we drove slowly through I was reminded of the First Vision. I had the strongest impression of God’s hand in all that beauty. The feeling also came clearly—this is the Savior’s church, and I should go on a mission.”

Jo’s testimony never wavered after that.

Later, during a class discussion on missions back in his home ward, his yearning for service came sharply into focus. The teacher, not wanting him to feel left out or embarrassed by the emphasis on serving missions, made the comment, ‘Of course, Jo is excused. He won’t be able to go in a wheelchair.’

“That really fired me up,” exclaims Elder Folkett. “My immediate reaction was, ‘Oh yes I will!’” Soon after, Jo received his patriarchal blessing, which confirmed his decision, stating he would serve and proselyte.

Before leaving for the England Manchester Mission, it became evident just how much Jolyon’s new attitude toward life had affected him. Not only did he take part in, and win, several national paraplegic sporting events, but his social life also improved.

“We had a stake fireside on dating standards,” Jo says. “And the final challenge was a competition to get youth mixing. We had to see who could have the most dates (same partner allowed no more than five times) in six months. The prize would be a trip to London for a meal and a show.”

Despite the fact that Jo was in the hospital for one of those months, and his mission departure was a month before the competition finished, he still came out winner. His total—38 dates in four months. Now he has a two-year wait for the prize.

And Jo has more good news waiting for his return home. When he applied for a training job at his local council offices they agreed to take him—and that was after he told them he wouldn’t be available to start for another two years. They accepted his explanation, promising to keep the vacancy especially for him.

Blessings like these keep outweighing hardships in Jo’s life. He’s even found advantages to serving in a wheelchair. “I must be the only missionary to get through two years in one pair of shoes,” he jokes. “These cost me 13 pounds (about $25 U.S.) at Leicester market and they’re good as new!”

There are a few disadvantages, however. Like the number of new tyres needed for his special wheelchair. Jo saved up for a lightweight, thin-tyred sports model before he left on his mission. The smaller chair makes tracting easier and has allowed him to develop the art of wheelies, crowd navigation, and step bouncing to breathtaking degrees.

He has another saying. “You can do anything you want, if it’s possible. If it’s impossible it just takes longer.”

Elder Folkett’s companion, Elder Dean Beale from Weston-super-Mare, England, says he appreciates such attitudes from his companion. “After working with Elder Folkett,” he says, “I’ve also come to realize that many of the people who blame God for the afflictions of others are not the sufferers themselves. The suffers are often the ones with faith and humility.”

As Elder Folkett says, “Life’s not supposed to be easy. It’s a tough testing ground. But if we behave ourselves and follow God’s plan, then we’ll get the blessings in the end.”

Often the blessings come long before the end when you’re in the service of the Lord. Jo has seen that many times on his mission. Take the day he met Kevin Smith, for instance.

Kevin had become interested in the Church through the fine example of a young Latter-day Saint girl in his office and had requested a copy of the Book of Mormon from the Blackpool Ward. Jo and his companion volunteered to deliver the scriptures.

“At that point I wasn’t sufficiently interested in the Church to have missionaries in my home,” says Kevin, who has been confined to a wheelchair for the past 16 years. “I had a stereotyped image of Mormon elders—tall, fresh young American lads straight out of college, clothed in sharp suits, with toothpaste-advert smiles. I probably wouldn’t have opened the door if they’d looked like that. But here were two down-to-earth people, one just as surprised as myself at the sight of a wheelchair.”

“Kevin is such a cool guy,” exclaims Elder Folkett, who was surprised to find his investigator in a wheelchair. “Even before we got to his house the first time I felt good about things that would happen.”

Elder Folkett and Kevin hit it off from the moment they met, and Jo baptized Kevin not long after that first discussion.

The power of example is switching on eternal possibilities for Jo. Inactive members have returned to church because of his example; he has shared the gospel with anyone willing to listen; and his mission president delights in his, “good, cheerful spirit.”

Just as Blackpool’s illuminations bring life to the shadows, so too does Elder Folkett’s bright faith enrich the lives of those he meets.

There’s a sparkle to his testimony that knows no handicap, travelling beyond boundaries, turning barriers into blessings.

Over forty-five years ago, when Dallin H. Oaks was a law professor at the University of Chicago, he had a harrowing encounter that almost ended in bloody tragedy. One evening, after a late church meeting, Elder Oaks and his wife, June, drove another sister to her apartment building. Returning to the car after walking this sister to her door, he was accosted by a young man brandishing a gun. The agitated juvenile jabbed his barrel into Elder Oaks' belly, demanding all his money. When he discovered Elder Oaks didn't have any cash, he demanded access to the car where June was inside watching this terrifying drama through the window. Think for a second, how would you have responded to that threat? Elder Oaks chose to not give in to his demands. A stand-off ensued, and the young man threatened to kill him if he didn't comply. But Elder Oaks stood firm.
At one point during this tense stalemate, the young man became distracted by a bus approaching behind him, out of his view, and he let his gun drift a bit to one side. Elder Oaks saw an opportunity, fully confident he could disarm the young man if he acted quickly to seize the weapon. Now what would you have done? Would you have made a grab for the gun? Elder Oaks almost did. But then something happened. "I did not see anything or hear anything, Elder Oaks said, "but I knew something. I knew what would happen if I grabbed that gun. We would struggle, and I would turn the gun into that young man's chest. It would fire, and he would die. I also understood that I must not have the blood of that young man on my conscience for the rest of my life."[1] It was a surprising thought for Elder Oaks; his life and the life of this stranger, this young man who wanted to harm him, were intertwined. Either they both made it out alive or both of them would be damaged. And that simple thought, that connection, completely changed the situation. "I relaxed," Elder Oaks said, "and as the bus pulled away I followed an impulse to put my right hand on his shoulder and give him a lecture. June and I had some teenage children at that time, and giving lectures came naturally. 'Look here,' I said. 'This isn't right. What you're doing just isn't right. The next car might be a policeman, and you could get killed or sent to jail for this.'"[2] Now it was the young man's turn to be surprised. The man he'd threatened to kill wasn't scared or angry, but was acting like a loving father, placing a warm hand on his shoulder and expressing genuine concern for his safety. This totally threw him off. "With the gun back in my stomach," Elder Oaks noted, "the young robber replied to my lecture by going through his demands for the third time. But this time his voice was subdued. When he offered the final threat to kill me, he didn't sound persuasive. When I refused again, he hesitated for a moment and then stuck the gun in his pocket and ran away."[3]

“There had to be more. All I had faith in was money, and that had nothing to do with happiness at all,” he said. That realization started his search for the truth. He thought it might be a good idea to thank Heavenly Father for all the blessings he’d been given, so he went to pray in the only nearby church he knew of—San Juan Capistrano, the famous Catholic Mission, built centuries ago. It seemed logical that the Lord would hear his prayers from such a place.

The Lord did. In response, he sent a messenger to Jack’s door. But it wasn’t the type in a suit, white shirt, and tie. It was Randy Smith, an insulation salesman and a recent convert with a lot of enthusiasm. He started talking to Jack about insulation, and somehow the subject got around to the gospel. It didn’t take Randy long to invite Jack out to the missionary prep class that his brother Tom taught.

“But I didn’t join right off,” Jack said. “I kind of sat back and doubted for a while, but I wish I hadn’t.” His Las Vegas excursion helped him appreciate the truths they were teaching him. “I looked around at the people there and thought ‘Lots of these people have money, but they’re still looking for something to make them happy,’” Jack said. Maybe he really could find what he was looking for in the Church.

He’d previously been attending Sunday School with a lackadaisical attitude, but now he decided to take the gospel seriously and learn some more. He began the missionary lessons and discovered that it would take the gospel to make him happy—happier than banking billions from bubble gum ever could. “Once the missionaries started teaching me, it only took about a month and a half before I was baptized,” he said.

Jack’s choices didn’t end when he joined the Church, though. Other decisions were in store. “I decided to go on a mission right after I decided to get serious about the gospel,” Jack said. “I thought, if it’s true, it’s all true, and of course you want to tell other people about it. It would be wrong not to go.”

But what about his business, and what about his car? “I sold the Corvette,” Jack says, with a surprising lack of remorse. “The insurance was costing me a fortune anyway.” The bubble gum business is still booming, however. His mother will manage it while he’s in the mission field, and the profits will help keep him afloat financially.

Jack feels he is well prepared for the mission field, but when his call came, he was stunned. He will be serving in the Japan Nagoya Mission. He was surprised that with his reading disability, he would be called to learn such a difficult language as Japanese.

“I was confident I would go to an English-speaking mission,” he said. “When I went to take the language aptitude test, I asked the girl who administered it which were the hardest languages, and she said both Chinese and Japanese were challenging. I thought, good—at least I won’t have to worry about them. Then when I got my mission call, I was surprised.”

But Jack doesn’t worry about the battle with the language. “When you’re doing the work of the Lord, he’s going to help you out. When I first got a Book of Mormon, I found it really hard to read, but since I started reading the scriptures, my reading has improved, and it’s the first time I can really see that improvement.”

Jack pulls out the scriptures, and reads, out loud, his favorite: Alma 32:28. It talks about the faith he needs to serve, and the faith the people need to receive his message: “Now, we will compare the word unto a seed. Now, if ye give place, that a seed may be planted in your heart, behold, if it be a true seed, or a good seed, if ye do not cast it out by your unbelief, that ye will resist the Spirit of the Lord, behold, it will begin to swell within your breasts; and when ye feel these swelling motions, ye will begin to say within yourselves—It must needs be that this is a good seed, or that the word is good, for it beginneth to enlarge my soul; yea, it beginneth to enlighten my understanding, yea, it beginneth to be delicious to me.”

As Jack reads that scripture, you notice that he reads clearly and precisely; he doesn’t stumble over a word.

Hey Jack—did you know you just read that scripture perfectly?

“I did? Wow, well thank you. I guess I’m getting a lot of help.”

The same Spirit that helped Jack choose to head home from Las Vegas is still helping him now. And it will continue to help him as he teaches the Japanese.

Editor’s note: Since this story was written, Elder Farley has completed training in the MTC. He is now serving in the Japan Nagoya Mission.

But the relationship was not merely ecclesiastical. When President Young returned from his ingathering mission in the fall of 1842, he was struck with a terrible illness that nearly killed him. The Prophet administered to him, prophesied that he would live, and then personally cared for him, sitting with him for hours, carefully instructing and supervising his attendants for many days during the crisis period. Brigham said much later concerning this time, “I used to think, while Joseph was living, that his life compared well with the history of the Savior.”18

On March 24, 2018, the Ugbighoko Ward Relief Society sisters did something extraordinary. The sisters convened to learn home enrichment skills. The sisters were taught how to make shower gel and toilet cleaning liquid. The Relief Society president, Loretta Olaye, taught the sisters prior that “homemaking” enables the family to economize and save money in their budget. She also taught that with homemaking, the sisters could learn to be self-reliant by acquiring home enrichment skills to better their lives. She reiterated that with these skills, every Latter-day Saint sister is enabled to contribute to the support of her family. She also testified that this will grant the sisters greater self-confidence.
These sisters learned the principles of temporary self-reliance by finding solutions to short-term and long-term welfare needs. After the discussion, the sisters experimented on the lesson taught. As the bishop, I was overwhelmed by the faith of the sisters in learning these skills. As I watched the sisters engaged in mixing the ingredients for the production of the shower gel and toilet cleaning liquid, I could see the faith of their hearts in action. They experimented in the process, not knowing what it may turn out to be. It strengthened my faith in the Savior as the sisters looked to their leader and obtained the desired result. We too may have an expected end of dwelling with God in the eternities, if we focus on Christ who is the author and finisher of our faith.

While in St. George for a stake conference, President Snow received a revelation in which the Lord reaffirmed that Church members should pay an honest tithing. President Snow felt so strongly about this inspired direction that despite his advanced age he vigorously taught the commandment in the stakes all that summer. He also asked the Quorum of the Twelve to teach the doctrine of full tithing payment at every opportunity. Over time, the Saints responded, eventually saving the Church from a crushing burden of debt.

I really don’t know why I signed up for seminary in 11th grade. Ninth grade was easy enough to explain. My best friend, Mary, begged me. Her mother insisted that she attend, and Mary vowed she’d die of boredom if I didn’t go with her. We’d been practically inseparable from the time we were two, so I believed it was my duty to go with her.
Tenth grade was a little more difficult to explain. I registered for seminary with Mary—again because she had to. But her mom remarried before the school year started, and Mary moved to Nevada. That year, although I didn’t drop the seminary class, most of the time I didn’t attend. I wasn’t interested in what the seminary teacher had to offer, and I was lonely without Mary.
By default, I registered for seminary again when I was a junior, mostly because there were no other classes I wanted. So I went and sat in the back, nestled by myself in the corner. Brother Hardy often tried to involve me in the discussions and scripture reading. Sometimes I participated, but most of the time I declined during our study of the Book of Mormon.
Every day Brother Hardy closed his lesson by bearing testimony to the truthfulness of the gospel. He seemed sincere enough in his beliefs, but each day I grew increasingly irritated at his word choice. He always said “I know.” But he couldn’t, I thought. He was wrong. He could feel, he could think, he could believe. But he could not know.
After class one day I decided to set him straight. He turned and smiled at me, and his eyes smiled too. “Sister Atwood, what can I help you with?” he asked.
“It’s about your word choice,” I said.
“Oh?”
“I’d appreciate it if you’d say ‘I believe’ rather than ‘I know.’ You can’t know what you can’t see.” I turned to walk away, certain he’d choose his words more carefully from then on.
“Sister Atwood, wait!” he called out after me.
I stopped and looked at his gentle green eyes. Something about him drew me in, something in his gaze. “What?” I asked.
“Sister,” he said softly, “do you want to know?”
I shook my head in disbelief. “But no one can know what they can’t see.” I didn’t want to tell him I didn’t believe there was a God; I didn’t want to let him know how hopeless and bleak the world looked to me. “No one can know,” I mumbled again, and the conviction of that belief left me lost, lonely, and small.
Brother Hardy reached for a book on his table. “Have you ever read the Book of Mormon, Colleen?”
“No.”
“Do you have one at home?”
“No. I have a Bible. But I don’t read it anymore.”
“Here.” He held the book out to me. “This is yours. You keep it. Every night before you go to bed, kneel down and pray to your Heavenly Father. He’ll hear you. Even if you haven’t prayed to him for a very long time. Ask him to help you understand what is in this book. Remember, always pray before you read. Read it just like you would those good books I see you with. Read it as if the people in this book are speaking directly to you. Will you do that?”
I shrugged my shoulders and took the book from him. I didn’t want to take his book. But he was so kind I didn’t want to tell him no.
The next day Brother Hardy bore his testimony. And he said “I know” again. He didn’t understand after all. He watched me as I walked out the door that day. I could feel his eyes fixed on me even while he talked to the other students. I didn’t look back.
At home that night I picked up the book. I knew he’d ask me if I was reading it. I didn’t want to lie to him, so I thought about dropping the class as I set the book back on my nightstand.
For the next several days, I went to seminary, dreading the day he’d pull me aside. Although he always greeted me warmly, he never asked me if I’d been reading the book. I began to relax and decided to stay in the class. I even took my turn reading scriptures. The days passed, and, as always, Brother Hardy bore his testimony. He looked me squarely in the eyes each time he said “I know.” Always the look was gentle, almost pleading.
One night, with nothing else to do, I picked up the Book of Mormon and turned the pages. I started reading Joseph Smith’s testimony. Then I remembered Brother Hardy’s instruction to pray first. So I crawled out of bed and knelt on the floor. “Help me to understand,” I asked simply. I finished Joseph’s testimony and the testimonies of the Three Witnesses. Night after night, I stayed with my plan. Pray then read. Let those in the Book of Mormon speak to me.
Soon the voices were real, and it seemed that Nephi was pleading with me because of the hardness of my heart. My appetite for the book became insatiable, and I read into the wee hours.
In 3 Nephi when Jesus Christ visited the American continent, I felt that I was there with them, that I could see and feel the prints of the nails in his hands and feet. I cried. When the Nephites fell away and all but Moroni were slain, I wept again.
Then I read the promise found in Moroni 10:3–5 [Moro. 10:3–5]. I put the bookmark in the book, closed it, climbed out of bed and knelt down to pray once again. “Heavenly Father,” I asked simply, “if it’s true, please help me to know and understand.” I closed my prayer and climbed back into bed, my eyes so full of tears that they blurred my vision.
I finished reading the Book of Mormon, then lay awake at the wonder of it. I knew—without seeing or touching—that the Book of Mormon was true. For the first time I knew Heavenly Father and Jesus were real. I knew Joseph Smith had seen God. And by the power of the Holy Ghost, with my spiritual eyes, I too saw him.
The next day I sat on the front row in seminary. When Brother Hardy finished his lesson by saying “I know,” I said “amen.” He stopped me after class. “It’s been a while, Colleen. How are you doing with the reading?” he asked.
“Oh, I finished it,” I said.
“Good!” He clapped his hands together. “Good! And?”
I looked at the ceiling and shook my head. “And I know,” I choked. “I know.”
In the years since, I have often thought of Brother Hardy. I have wanted him to know that I married a returned missionary in the temple and that I have two fine sons who also will serve the Lord in the mission field. I have wanted Brother Hardy to know how his pebble rippled.

Grandpa rolled down the window of the car and called, “Take good care of Casper for us while we’re gone, Chadwick.”
“I will,” Chadwick promised.
He waved as Grandpa and Grandma drove away. He scratched Casper’s neck. “See you later, boy. I’ve got to go to school now.”
Chadwick shut the gate and hurried off to school. When he reached home that afternoon, Chadwick went next door to his grandparents’ house to feed Casper. After the dog finished eating they played “chase the stick” until they were both panting.
“Chadwick,” Mom called. “Suppertime.”
Chadwick ruffled Casper’s fur. “I’ll come back to say goodnight,” he promised.
He ran up the steps and into the kitchen. “Casper and I have been having a lot of fun together! He likes me.”
Mom smiled. “Hurry and wash for supper,” she said. “We’re waiting for you.”
After supper Chadwick watched his favorite TV program. When it ended, he jumped up quickly. “I better check on Casper,” he declared.
“You played with him a long time,” Mom said. “It’s almost bedtime.”
“I promised Casper I’d see him before I went to bed,” Chadwick insisted.
Mom sighed. “All right, but be back in ten minutes,” she said firmly.
Chadwick raced down the sidewalk and into Grandma’s yard. Casper wagged his tail happily.
Chadwick checked the water dish. Then they both flopped down beside the doghouse. They were too tired to play and it was awfully dark by now.
Chadwick put his arm around Casper’s neck and gazed into the darkness at his grandparents’ house. “I better go,” Chadwick told the dog. “I’ll be over with your breakfast in the morning.”
After carefully shutting the gate behind him, Chadwick glanced up at the house. He gasped! Then he bounded toward home, opened the back door, and ran through the kitchen.
“What in the world’s the matter?” Mom asked in alarm.
“Grandma has a ghost,” he choked.
Mom stared. “Did you hear someone?”
He shook his head. “It didn’t make any noise but it was watching me from the window.”
Dad came into the kitchen carrying the evening paper. “What’s this about a ghost?”
“I saw it, honest.” Chadwick gulped. His throat was so dry he could hardly talk.
Dad looked puzzled. “Couldn’t be a prowler. Casper would alarm the whole town if a stranger tried to go in there. But maybe I’d better check anyway.”
“It’s not a man, Dad, at least not a real one,” Chadwick insisted.
Dad just smiled and went out the door.
Soon he was back. “Nothing seems to be disturbed. The doors are all locked and the windows are closed,” he said.
“You think I only imagined it,” Chadwick muttered.
Dad patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. Grandma and Grandpa have never mentioned a ghost. Maybe it stays out of the way when they’re home. It could be a caretaker-type ghost when they go away.”
Chadwick knew Dad was teasing him. Chadwick smiled at Mom and Dad. He didn’t feel quite so scared now. Maybe he had let his imagination play tricks on him.
The next morning he felt foolish when Dad asked, “Want me to take Casper his breakfast?”
Chadwick shook his head. “Ghosts don’t come out in the daytime, do they?” he asked.
“Well, none that I’ve ever known,” Dad answered. “But then, I haven’t known many ghosts.”
Chadwick looked up at the window before he opened the gate, but he saw nothing there. He gave Casper fresh water and food. The dog was too busy eating when Chadwick left to even look up.
That afternoon whenever Chadwick went to see Casper, he looked at the window half expecting to see something there. But each time the window was empty.
Just before bedtime that night, he walked slowly toward the door. “I have to say goodnight to Casper,” he explained.
“I’m sure the dog is all right,” Mom said kindly. “You don’t have to go unless you really want to.”
Chadwick shook his head. “I promised to take good care of him. It’s my responsibility.”
“If you hurry you can probably catch up with Dad. He went to check the house just a minute ago.”
Chadwick ran down the sidewalk, but Dad was out of sight. He walked slowly around the house. When he reached the gate he peeked up at the window. There was something there! Just then Dad turned on the light in the kitchen. The ghost began to twitch and wiggle.
Chadwick screamed and ran toward the back door. “Dad, Dad,” he shouted.
Dad opened the door wide. “Chadwick! What’s wrong?”
“I saw it again, Dad. The ghost was going right toward you,” Chadwick cried frantically.
Dad sighed. “Let’s turn on every light in the house. Maybe we can find this ghost of yours.”
Chadwick trembled in fear. He followed closely behind his father. They went through the house, turning on the lights as they went.
Chadwick jingled the windchimes hanging from a curtain rod. “Funny place for Grandma to put her windchimes,” he said.
Dad glanced at them. “They could probably be broken on the porch if the wind started blowing very hard. I suppose she thought of them as she went out the door.”
They turned off the lights and went back outside. Dad locked the door. Chadwick checked Casper’s water dish. Then they turned toward home.
Chadwick glanced back over his shoulder. He clutched his father’s arm tightly. “There it is again!” he whispered. Then he began to laugh. “The windchimes! It’s nothing but those crazy windchimes with the streetlights shining on them.”
Dad chuckled. “And so another ghost is laid to rest.”
“You knew all the time that there wasn’t any ghost, didn’t you, Dad?” Chadwick asked.
Dad put his arm around Chadwick’s shoulders. “Well, let’s just say I had some mighty strong doubts. But everyone should meet a ghost at least once in his lifetime!”