Gospel Story Finder

A college student who was a client of mine several years ago related this story about his perfectionism:
I set such high standards for the projects I did for class that when I thought about even starting a project I would feel anxious and nauseated. That would lead me to procrastinate beginning the project or doing even one section of it. Eventually it led to me feeling paralyzed. I remember staring at the instructions from the professor, getting anxious, then waiting until the last minute to quickly do the project and turn it in the next day. My perfectionism led to me getting less-than-perfect grades on projects.
When I asked this young man to make a list of the advantages and disadvantages of his perfectionism, he came up with four advantages (e.g., he thought he did a better job when he was perfectionistic, although his grades did not show it). He then listed 17 disadvantages to perfectionism, some of them just discussed. He then started reconsidering the value of perfectionism in his life!

Real Missionaries
Many years ago I was with my companion at the missionary training center when I heard the voice of a child say, “Grandma, are those real missionaries?” I turned to see a young girl holding her grandmother’s hand and pointing at me and my companion. I smiled, extended my hand, looked her square in the eye, and said, “Hello, I am Elder Richardson, and we are real missionaries.” Her face beamed as she looked at me, thrilled that she was in the company of genuine missionaries. I walked away from that experience with renewed dedication. I wanted to be the type of missionary that the Savior, my family, and this young girl expected me to be. For the next two years, I worked hard to look like, think like, act like, and especially to teach like a real missionary.
Upon my return home, it became increasingly apparent that even though I had left my mission, my mission didn’t leave me. In fact, even after all these years, I still feel that my mission was the best two years for my life.
Matthew O. Richardson, second counselor in the Sunday School general presidency

One ever remembers that Christmas day when giving replaced getting. In my life, this took place in my tenth year. As Christmas approached, I yearned as only a boy can yearn for an electric train. My desire was not to receive the economical and everywhere-to-be-found windup model train; rather, I wanted one that operated through the miracle of electricity. The times were those of economic depression; yet Mother and Dad, through some sacrifice, I am sure, presented to me on Christmas morning a beautiful electric train.

For hours I operated the transformer, watching the engine first pull its cars forward, then push them backward around the track. Mother entered the living room and said to me that she had purchased a windup train for Mrs. Hansen’s son Mark, who lived down the lane. I asked if I could see the train. The engine was short and blocky, not long and sleek like the expensive model I had received. However, I did take notice of an oil tanker car that was part of his inexpensive set. My train had no such car, and pangs of envy began to be felt. I put up such a fuss that Mother succumbed to my pleadings and handed me the oil tanker car. She said, “If you need it more than Mark, you take it.” I put it with my train set and felt pleased with the result.

Mother and I took the remaining cars and the engine down to Mark Hansen. The young boy was a year or two older than I. He had never anticipated such a gift and was thrilled beyond words. He wound the key in his engine, it not being electric like mine, and was overjoyed as the engine and two cars, plus a caboose, went around the track. Mother wisely asked, “What do you think of Mark’s train, Tommy?”

I felt a keen sense of guilt and became very much aware of my selfishness. I said to Mother, “Wait just a moment. I’ll be right back!”

As swiftly as my legs could carry me, I ran to our home, picked up the oil tanker car, plus an additional car from my train set, ran back down the lane to the Hansen home, and joyfully said to Mark, “We forgot to bring two cars that belong to your train.” Mark coupled the two extra cars to his set. I watched the engine make its labored way around the track and felt a supreme joy, difficult to describe and impossible to forget. The spirit of Christmas had filled my very soul.

During World War II, many cities in the United States enforced nightly blackouts to conserve fuel. In Salt Lake City the floodlights on the Salt Lake Temple were turned off. The temple stood dark in a dark city for years. When the ceasefire was declared in Europe, President Heber J. Grant ordered the floodlights of the temple turned back on.
For Christmas 1945, President George Albert Smith planned an inspiring and meaningful Christmas card. On the front was a photograph of the three eastern spires of the Salt Lake Temple beautifully lit against a dark blue background with the angel Moroni figure standing above. Across the bottom were the words “Christmas—1945” and the message “The lights are on again.”10 Nothing could have better reflected the joy felt by everyone after so many long years of death and destruction.
But this beautiful Christmas card was also President Smith’s way of bearing his testimony of Jesus Christ and the Restoration of the gospel. Just as the end of the war brought peace and light in dark places, the Restoration of the gospel following the centuries-long Apostasy turned the bright lights of truth “on again” for all the people of the world.

I remember one evening driving straight from work to visit one of the sisters I ministered to. It had been a rough day, and I wasn’t feeling particularly well. I felt like I had nothing left to give and didn’t feel entirely charitable. I felt to say a little prayer with faith in my heart as I drove that this sister would somehow be blessed with what she needed despite my lack. As my companion and I talked with this sister about her family, her busy life, and what we could do to help, I felt the Lord’s love pour into me. I felt of His love for her, for her family, and for me.

We played with her little children as we visited. And I left that night feeling like a different person. I knew I had energy and strength given to me. I knew I had felt a bit of heaven in that home. We all felt lifted by His love.

I found joy in loving this sister and in bringing her the Savior’s relief. Our experiences leading up to ministering aren’t always convenient or joyful. Just like anything that is important, there are usually some hurdles. But when you do minister, you don’t regret being His hands and ears. You don’t regret bringing His love and relief.

“You are never alone when you have faith in Jesus Christ and Heavenly Father.” I have heard phrases like this many times, but I never before understood them to the depth that I do today.
Every person eventually faces the inevitable fact that one day he or she may be alone. For me, due to a divorce, children moving out, and early retirement, this day came sooner than I had anticipated. The most excruciating obstacle I had to overcome was living with this sudden quiet and emptiness after spending years of precious time with family and friends, spouse and children, and fellow employees.
While I enjoyed the visits with my home and visiting teachers and other friends, most of the time I felt completely alone, and I didn’t like it. The constant stillness eventually evoked an uncontrollable stream of tears. I had nowhere to turn for comfort except on my knees in prayer.
After I cried to Heavenly Father for what seemed to be hours, a transition started to take place inside of me, and I felt Heavenly Father’s Spirit. For a moment my tears subsided as I absorbed His love piercing my soul. I knew He understood my sadness, and that allowed me to feel comfortable enough to cry even longer, just as a child who has fallen cries when seeing his or her mother. As I buried my head in what I imagined to be Heavenly Father’s lap, I knew He was willing to comfort me for as long as I needed. Occasionally, I had some fleeting thoughts of being too old to be acting this way. However, I knew that it didn’t matter to Heavenly Father how old or young I was. I just knew that He understood me and would always be there for me.
Today, although I would still prefer to be married, I have come to enjoy the quiet. I listen to the ocean waves and watch the sunset. I literally stop and smell the roses. I listen and act according to the guidance of the Spirit. I am not afraid to be alone because I am not alone as long as I believe in Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. I see the Spirit of Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ in most everything I do.
“Through faith in Jesus Christ and Heavenly Father, you are not alone.” Those words have a new and profound meaning deep in my heart today, and I know without a doubt that I am never alone. I am His daughter, and He loves me.

When I was baptized, I was the only member of my family who accepted the gospel. I was 19 years old, and I was happy about my baptism. I was welcomed by the brothers and sisters of my branch in Veracruz, Mexico. In addition, I began preparing to serve a full-time mission as soon as I had been a member of the Church for one year. It was wonderful to know the true Church, and I wanted to share the gospel with others.
My father, my stepmother (my mom died when I was 12 years old), and my three brothers rejected the Church when I was baptized. Unfortunately, I didn’t respond well. I was disrespectful to them. I didn’t consider my father or his opinions. When I told him I would serve a mission soon, he was not happy since I would stop working and especially since I might go far away. It bothered me every time my family’s lifestyle conflicted with my principles, such as when they watched TV or listened to music programs that I felt were inappropriate for Sundays or when my father would invite me to have lunch on fast Sunday.
I justified my negative attitude toward my family by telling myself that I wasn’t doing anything wrong—as a member of the Church, I should live gospel principles even when my family members bothered me. I told myself they were the ones who should change. Due to this reasoning, my relationship with my father was not good. It got worse because of my attitude and pride. I continued this way—not concerning myself with his spiritual welfare.
One day while I was studying for my institute class, I came to 1 Nephi 16, where Nephi breaks his steel bow, making it difficult to get food. Everybody began to murmur—Laman and Lemuel, as was their custom, together with their father, the prophet Lehi. Nephi responded by making a bow and arrow out of wood and asking his father where he should go to obtain food. His father prayed for guidance and was reprimanded by the Lord for having murmured. Lehi reacted favorably and retook his role as leader of his family and as a prophet of the Lord. Nephi did not judge his father in his weakened state, nor did he think that he shouldn’t be prophet anymore, even when Nephi had spoken with the Lord and had received visions.
When I read and understood this account, immediately I thought of how badly I had behaved toward my family. I was embarrassed by my attitude—feeling that I was better than they were—and felt especially bad for not treating my father with respect. I was sad for not making it a priority to share the gospel with them.
I had not seen my family as they could become. I had focused only on their weaknesses. From that day on, my attitude and behavior changed gradually. I strived to always respect my father’s opinions, despite the many times I did not agree with him. If he invited me to lunch when I was fasting, I said I was sorry for not being able to share the meal with him. I no longer felt bothered by the programs or music they watched or listened to on Sundays, remembering that they still hadn’t made covenants with our Heavenly Father, as I had.
One morning while I was helping my father with a meal, I told him how much I loved him and how sorry I was for my rude behavior. I told him I was proud that he was my father and that I wanted to have a peaceful relationship with him.
Everything began to change. The arguments lessened and disappeared. Although I thought it would be a long time before my family joined the Church, their attitude toward the Church improved. None of these changes would have happened had I not changed first.
After I had been a member of the Church for one year, I served as a full-time missionary in the Mexico Tijuana Mission. Three months before returning, I received a letter saying that my family had accepted the gospel and would be baptized. When I returned, they already belonged to the Church.
In my 15 years as a member of the Church, one of my greatest lessons came from my study of the Book of Mormon and with the children of God I had closest to me: my family.

Priscila prepared for her temple trip by studying general conference talks about the temple with her mother, reading Church magazines, and studying the scriptures. She also gathered the names of four generations on her father’s side of the family so she could perform vicarious baptisms for them. Priscila’s mom compiled the family history information for four generations of her side of the family.
Once the 185 members departed Manaus by boat, Priscila and the five other young women in the caravan helped tend the Primary-age children and fixed meals. At night they slept in hammocks on the boat deck to try to stay cool in the hot jungle temperatures.
“Being on the caravan was so spiritual because everyone was so excited and anxious to go to the temple,” Priscila comments. “Most people had never been to the temple, so almost no one knew exactly what to expect. Everyone sang songs and read scriptures together. We were so united.”
The bus ride was the most difficult part of the journey because the buses traveled both day and night for three days, and the members were unable to move around much. As a result, many of the members had severe pain and swelling in their legs.
When they arrived at the temple, Priscila immediately went to the baptistry to do baptisms for the dead, while her mother went to a different part of the temple to receive her endowment. Priscila spent every day in São Paulo in the temple, even though it was the first time she had been to the large metropolis.
“I spent my 15th birthday in the temple. When the baptismal font coordinator discovered it was my birthday, he told me he had a present for me,” Priscila explains. “So many people come to the temple that most patrons can do the baptisms for only five people. He gave me a large stack of names of people who needed their baptismal work done for them. He couldn’t have given me a better present.”
Priscila’s mother comments about other changes that happened in Priscila’s life: “The caravan spiritually influenced her. She was a light for all of the other members. Everyone came back different. On the bus ride home, we felt that our appearances and faces had changed; we were all so happy.”

Allyson Kitchen, 17, could see the stars now, overhead, their sparkle unchallenged by city haze or street lamps. She liked the way the fire created a haven of light in the vast darkness of the woods. And she noticed that although the campfire made shadows prance in the forest, here where it burned brightly there was no fear.
Like the others, Allyson found her mind filled with three days of memories. The time she’d spent with her friends had been important.
“They’re goofy and I love them and I’ll be going away to college soon.”
The service project had made her feel good. “We worked hard and we helped somebody,” she said to herself.
And she even felt closer to her leaders, just because she’d been around them.
“It’s fun to see the bishop in something besides a suit.”
But the memory that Allyson was really thinking about was the morning she had spent, alone on a hillside covered with wildflowers, reading the Book of Mormon and pleading with God to know of its truth.
She looked at the stars again, scattered across the sky, and remembered reading: “The scriptures are laid before thee, yea, and all things denote there is a God; yea, even the earth, and all things that are upon the face of it, yea, and its motion, yea, and also all the planets which move in their regular form do witness that there is a Supreme Creator” (Alma 30:44).
Allyson felt close to her Father in Heaven and to her Savior. And she took great comfort in the reassurance that they are near.

Last October I was sitting at my computer on a Tuesday afternoon. Life was good. Looking out my window I could see the grass being rolled into place for our new home. I could see where the flowers would bloom each spring in the beds. My books filled the bookcases and the windows looked up at the mountains. We had been in our new home only two months. My husband had been released from callings that required that we live in the same neighborhood all of our married life. I was musing about our new life on a quiet cul de sac, it was smaller than the rambling 100 year old house where we had reared our children.
And then the phone rang. It was my husband saying that one of the apostles wanted to meet with us the next day. My heart stopped. I didn’t ask why. I didn’t need to. It was fall; The Brethren were beginning to talk to potential mission presidents. The situation in my mind edged precariously close to the Lord’s words to the young man, “Sell all that thou hath and follow me.” Not now, I thought. We just built our house. This wasn’t just a new house. It was a dream put on hold for thirty years.
The interview last October culminated in a call from the First Presidency for my husband to preside over the England London South Mission. Come. Leave your house – no different than leaping over the side of the boat. This July, we will walk on English soil.

In my personal life, I hear Him and His whisperings when I am striving to keep the commandments of God. In all instances when I have heard the whisperings of God, it was in still and quiet moments. One experience stands out early in our marriage. We were living in Wahiawa, and I was a teacher and coach at Leilehua High School. In the Wahiawa Ward that I grew up in, I was called as a young counselor in the bishopric to my former Boy Scout leader, Bishop Wayne Chang. Circumstances for our family changed when the home we were living in and renting at the time suddenly became unavailable to us. We needed to move and to move quickly. We did everything we could to find a place to live, but nothing seemed to be available. Our stake president even gave us permission to look within the stake boundaries, and he said he would grant approval for us to continue serving in the Wahiawa Ward. Despite this offer, we were unfruitful in our efforts to find a home to live in. I remember lying in bed one evening, and in my frustration, mentally shaking my fists towards Heaven complaining to God on high, “Why aren’t you helping us? I’m doing everything that I can. Why won’t you help us?”

The very next day, I recall sitting alone in my classroom at Leilehua High School. It was during my prep period when I had no students, and I was staring at the sun shining through the open classroom door. In that state of quiet reflection, I heard the Spirit whisper to my mind, “Apply for graduate school at BYU.” I heard that whisper in my mind, and felt an excitement in my heart knowing that this communication was from God. I immediately got online and looked at the only graduate program I had thought of one day completing, a master’s degree in educational leadership. I was disheartened to see that the date for applying for this program had already passed. As soon as I noticed that date, the Spirit whispered again to me, “Call that number and see if the date is correct.” The whisper to my mind was clear. It was not an audible voice I heard with my ears, but like President Nelson stated, words were placed in my mind, coupled with a feeling of inspiration in my heart. That is how God whispers to me. I felt enlightenment upon hearing those words, so I immediately called that number. I still remember the secretary's name that answered my call. Her name was Bonnie. When I expressed my interest in applying for graduate school, but explained that I had seen the date had already passed, she said in a matter-of-fact way, “Oh, that date is not correct. We have to update the website. The deadline has been extended by two weeks. But here are the things you need to do.” I could barely contain my excitement as she listed the things I needed to do, like take the GRE, secure letters of recommendation, etc. As difficult as those things were to complete in such a short time frame, I had no doubt that I would be able to meet these deadlines because this was revelation from the Lord. And, I had great faith that I would be accepted because I knew this is what God wanted me to do. When the acceptance letter from BYU came, it was confirmation of the faith I had in the revelation that was given to me through the whisperings of the Holy Ghost. I hear His whisperings when I am striving to live the commandments and in still and quiet moments.

A little over a year ago a couple came into my office carrying a little boy. The father said to me, “My wife and I have been fasting for two days, and we’ve brought our little boy up for a blessing. You are the one we’ve been sent to.”

I said, “What’s the matter with him?”

They said he was born blind, deaf, and dumb, with no coordination of his muscles, and he couldn’t even crawl at the age of five years.

I said to myself, “This is it. ‘This kind goeth not out but by prayer and fasting.’” I had implicit faith in the fasting and the prayers of those parents.

I blessed that child, and a few weeks later I received a letter:

Brother Cowley, we wish you could see our little boy now. He’s crawling. When we throw a ball across the floor, he races after it on his hands and knees. He can see. When we clap our hands over his head, he jumps. He can hear.

Medical science had laid the burden down. God had taken over. The little boy was rapidly ­recovering—or, really, getting what he’d never had.

As a young college student, Giuseppe Pasta found his belief in God constantly challenged by atheistic friends. He began intensive study of the Bible to strengthen his beliefs, and his study did indeed bring Giuseppe closer to God. But it also convinced him that the church of his forefathers was somehow incomplete. In it, he had learned basic moral principles, but he felt there must be more to the gospel of Jesus Christ.
Where was this additional truth?
When his prayers for further enlightenment seemed to go unanswered, he concluded that perhaps he was not righteous enough. He sought to humble himself in service to patients at a charity hospital, where “I found what the pure love of Christ is.”
Then one day he met two Latter-day Saint missionaries “street-boarding” (explaining the gospel with portable displays) outside the hospital. That meeting led, after a long period of study, to his conversion but he did not tell his family at first about his baptism.
When they learned of it, they were devastated. Friends presented him a petition, with hundreds of signatures, begging him to come back to the “true church.” An interview was arranged for him with the cardinal of Turin, in the hope that the cleric could persuade him to change his mind. They became friends. Convinced at length that young Giuseppe was sincere in his beliefs, the cardinal counseled him to be true to them.
Giuseppe Pasta has been a member of the Church for twenty years now, long enough to qualify him as a Latter-day Saint pioneer in Italy. He was an executive with the Fiat corporation for seventeen years before he was hired to open the Church’s first regional office in Italy. As a temple sealer, he has had the privilege of uniting many of his countrymen for eternity in the Swiss Temple. Currently president of the Italy Rome Mission, he directs some 150 young missionaries in bringing gospel truths to other Italians.
Like President Pasta, many Italian Latter-day Saints reordered their lives to join the Church after discovering gospel truths they had not known existed. Like him, many of them are pioneers in their families and in their country.

It was not easy for us to come back here, but we did as we both felt the strong promptings of the spirit to do so. The Reid’s are business owners in Samoa and didn’t really feel the need to get a degree. I came first to get settled. I tried my best to make our TVA apartment look appealing. We lived in TVA N160 just so you know. There’s nothing wrong with TVA in itself. Remember, when you go to college, fall in love, get married, and then move to TVA while you’re still a student, that’s different! Imagine you’ve done the college thing, you’ve worked a good job, you built a brand new house 4 bedroom 3 bath with a living room and a family room plus a basketball court, then you convince your family (especially your children) to leave it and squeeze in to a 1 1/2 bedroom at TVA. I remember my kids dropping their luggage in the living room and crying, “Why did you bring us here?” That was a trying time for us too; yet the Lord is wiser than us, and had we not come at that time, Ernie would not have completed his college degree, we would have never discovered his illness, and he would have never been called as a bishop again in the Laie 7th Ward, a calling he absolutely loved. All this, because of the power of belief and faith and willingness to keep going when the going looked tough, to keep our eyes focused, and to never, ever quit!

Adrian Juchau says, “The competition is so much fun because everyone shows so much support. I was a little afraid to compete, until I actually tried it and found out that people are really having a good time.” In fact, Adrian had so much fun that he decided he would be at every event whether he was participating or not.
“At the Ping-Pong tournament, I was more nervous than the people who were playing,” he admits.
Because the competition takes place over a three-week period, the youth spend a lot of time together, working out, rehearsing, competing, and just “hanging out” waiting for the next event.
“My friends and I wanted to enter the group vocal-music competition. We just couldn’t find a song we liked, so we spent five hours looking together. Finally, we turned on the radio and heard the perfect song. We joked that it must be true inspiration,” says Mia Maid Marlowe Ziegler.
Cheering on your competitors in other wards, spending five hours to find the perfect piece of music, or traveling back and forth to different church buildings for three weeks every year, might seem like a lot of effort, and it is. But in Glendale, most everyone says, “It’s all worth it.”
When the contest finally ends for another year, ribbons and medals are given in every competition, with separate categories for boys and girls. Nearly everyone wins at least one award, and lots of people have several. Yet no one really seems to notice. Everyone has won other things that seem much more important: friendship built on a gospel foundation, love for fellow competitors, and an appreciation for the talents of others.
“I wanted to learn how to play the piano blindfolded, and now I can,” says Adrian, a skill that, by all accounts, is a new one in the stake.
“I would never have learned how to build that cabinet without the competition as a goal,” adds Jared Hall.
Paul Jenkins competed with a good friend. “There aren’t any bad feelings,” he says. “We both knew we’d do well, and we did.”
Those sentiments are echoed by many other participants and can be seen in the way everyone gets along throughout the various competitions. On performing and fine arts night, while one girl is being congratulated on an exemplary piano performance, another is being cheered up by friends who realize she wanted to do better on her vocal solo. Boys good-naturedly tease each other about who is going to win the art competition, but then wish each other good luck. On track-and-field day, several girls laugh about deciding to cross the finish line together in a race so they can all come in first. The list goes on.
And although the competition has been going on for longer than any of these participants can remember, no one really remembers past winners.
Jessica Forsberg, a 16-year-old whose talents shine brightest on track-and-field events, sums it up best. Still breathless from a race, she says, “When you cross that finish line, even if you didn’t win, you feel like you’ve succeeded. Winning isn’t everything; it’s just for fun.”
Competing just for fun? Focusing on people rather than achievements? Using competition as an incentive to excel without hurting people’s feelings? Some might think those things are too good to be true. But if you live in the Glendale Arizona Stake, it’s just how things are done.
Here are some tips, gathered from youth and leaders in Glendale, on holding your own competition:
Start small. The Glendale competition started as a one-afternoon event and has grown over a period of 25 years. Give your stake the time to find out what works and what is comfortable for everyone.
Plan, plan, plan. Try to anticipate every challenge in planning your event. Think of all the things you will need to buy, borrow, or reserve to make your competition a success.
Ask for help. In Glendale, the stake’s Young Adult ward helps with judging and organizational tasks. Ask for help from people outside the stake’s youth program if you think you will need more manpower.
Encourage everyone to participate. The Glendale youth agree that meeting and making new friends is what makes the competition fun. Encourage everyone to come—even if it’s just to watch.
What do the Glendale youth do at their competition? Here’s a complete list:
Volleyball
Bike Racing
Racquetball
Table Tennis
Public Speaking
Chess
Scholastics
Sewing—Quilts
Sewing—Clothes
Sewing—Other
Cooking—Bread and Rolls
Cooking—Desserts
Cooking—Main Dish
Painting/Drawing
Crafts
Woodworking
Track and Field—Various Events
Performing Arts—Vocal Music
Performing Arts—Instrumental Music
Performing Arts—Dance

Ray Ivie, however, still loves rivers.

Brother Ivie is a spry little man, wiry and elfish, an electrical engineer by trade. Mention a river to him, and his eyes come alive. His already animated face becomes even more eager. His pulse picks up so fast that yours races with it. Listen to him speak, and the fascination for rivers is rekindled in you once again.

Ray Ivie is also the Scoutmaster of Troop 477 chartered to the 77th Ward of the Orem Utah South Stake. A couple of years ago he and his Scouts had built some pioneering projects, lashing poles together with rope to form furniture, camp equipment, even towers.

“We had poles and ropes,” he said. “And we’d been talking about a river trip, but we didn’t have any canoes. One of the projects mentioned in the pioneering merit badge book is to build a raft. I don’t think they had anything elaborate in mind, but it started me thinking, hey, we could do that; it wouldn’t cost much.”

That’s what happens when an engineer gets loose. Soon the boys in Brother Ivie’s troop were fashioning willow sticks into model rafts.

“We did some calculating of flotation needed for the weight we planned to carry, what we’d need to do in terms of water displacement,” Brother Ivie said. “We figured out that inner tubes would give adequate flotation, and we found some businesses where tubes with holes in them were just throw-aways. For the cost of patching materials and the time spent a couple of Saturdays fixing the tubes, we had the materials we would need.” The two-level rafts were designed with inner tubes lashed together underneath a log framework.

“The whole principle of pioneering is to use what’s available,” Brother Ivie added. “Teaching the boys about that is much more valuable than hiring some commercial company to ferry them down the river. And when you know you’re going to be floating on your own raft, you make sure it’s well built. It’s not like some tower you sit on for a minute. If a raft falls apart, you’re in the drink.”

After reviewing safety procedures and checking with Green River (Utah) State Park officials, Troop 477 set sail in the summer of 1983. The trip was so memorable that Brother Ivie and his boys automatically talked with friends and family about what they had done, inviting others to go with them the next year. Brother Ivie gave them copies of his assembly and instruction manual, “The PT-13 (Patrol Transport, 13-tube, 13-foot pole, Live-aboard Ship).” By the following summer, two more troops (from the Orem 15th and 27th Wards) manning a total of five rafts were scheduled for the second flotilla.

But Te Oranoa M., age 17, from New Zealand has a different take on things. “What inspires me about this scripture,” she says, “is that it doesn’t say they are lost forever.”

What an incredible insight! And it’s one that comes from personal experience. “I, myself, fell away from the Church,” she says, “but I have been able to come back.”

Te Oranoa grew up in the Church and talks about gaining her own testimony and even setting spiritual goals. “But that testimony grew cold,” she says.

In some ways, she found common ground with Amulek, particularly in the way he described himself to the people of Ammonihah: “I did harden my heart, for I was called many times and I would not hear; therefore I knew concerning these things, yet I would not know” (Alma 10:6).

For Te Oranoa, that scripture hits close to home. “Just like Amulek, I knew all these spiritual things, and the Spirit was telling me to do certain things, but because I was being a bit stubborn and a bit prideful, I wouldn’t do them. Afterward, my testimony kind of faded away.”

In the end, Amulek’s story would become more than merely familiar to Te Oranoa. It would also become a turning point on the road back.

Even during the time when her faith had grown cold, she could still remember sweet experiences from before. Te Oranoa never forgot how she’d felt when attending the temple with her youth group or going to a youth conference.

“There was a pattern,” she says. “I’d feel really good when I came to church, but I didn’t feel good when I missed church.”

There finally came a day when Te Oranoa decided to see if she could connect with those good feelings again. The first thing she did was to read through recent general conference addresses.

An October 2016 general conference address, “Learn from Alma and Amulek,” by President Dieter F. Uchtdorf, Second Counselor in the First Presidency, woke something in Te Oranoa’s soul. She recognized a lot of her own life and feelings as President Uchtdorf described how Amulek’s faith had faded. She also remembered more strongly than ever the happiness she had enjoyed when her faith was stronger. Instantly, she wanted to make some changes.

“I was hoping to find something to reignite that fire of my testimony,” she explains, “so I read President Uchtdorf’s talk, and yes, I felt on fire!”

Te Oranoa’s path back to faith hasn’t always been easy, but there is a particular light at the end of the tunnel that keeps her going: the hope of an eternal family.

“Families can be together forever,” she says. “That’s my biggest dream, my biggest hope in life. Whenever I want to learn about something, or I find a doctrine hard to understand, I try and relate it back to eternal families. For example, why is Jesus Christ’s Atonement important to me? For one thing, I need His Atonement in my life so I can be worthy to enter the temple and be sealed to my family for all eternity.”

It’s perhaps worth remembering that the people in Lehi’s vision who fell away after tasting the fruit did, in fact, still taste it. They must have known of its goodness, even if only briefly. And they can discover it again. That’s the hope Te Oranoa clings to, for herself and for others.

“You don’t have to keep going down those forbidden paths for the rest of your life,” she says. “You can turn back to the Lord whenever you want.”

The second story is about Terry Crapo, who for twenty-four years, from 1958 to 1982, was one of my closest friends. We graduated from Brigham Young University at the same time and in the same major. We thought alike, we worked in student government together, we had the same long-range career objectives, and most people said we even looked alike.

Terry was a brilliant lawyer, a remarkably successful father and stake president. Whenever I was involved in something really important, I wanted Terry on my team. When I was the student body president here, he was my executive assistant. Fifteen years later, I recruited him for the Law School faculty, where he was voted professor of the year. And in the summer of 1982, after I had been the solicitor general for about a year, I was making arrangements to bring Terry to Washington to work as my deputy.

But then, another phone call—seven years earlier than the one I received twelve days ago. It was from Elder Hugh Pinnock, informing me that Terry had cancer. Cancer. A dreadful word. My conversation with Terry right after I received that phone call was our last in this life. Less than two weeks later, he was dead.

For days I could not accept that it had really happened. This was Terry Crapo. He was my height, my weight, we looked alike, our families were about the same age, we were both lawyers, both loved life, our families, the gospel, and each other. I have had other friends to whom I have felt as close as Terry, but none with whom I personally identified quite so completely. He just couldn’t be dead. For several days I kept hoping that somehow, as my friend Lisa Hawkins said in a poem composed for Terry’s funeral, he would, Tom Sawyer-like, come back and surprise us all. But he didn’t. He had forty-four very good years in this mortal existence, but that was all.

I have had another reaction to Terry’s passing that, unlike the first, has endured and had a rather profound influence on me. Terry is gone and I am not. This spiritual, philosophical, and emotional twin of mine had only forty-four years here. Every year that I have beyond that number is a bonus. So make the most of everyone of those. No point asking why those bonus years were given to me rather than to Terry. The fact is they were, so I must do something with them.

I’ve chosen a small selection from the Teacher Development Program to give one tiny example of understanding:
A man was putting up a sign “Puppies for Sale,” and before he had driven the last nail, there was a small boy standing by his side. That kind of sign seems to attract small boys. The youngster wanted to know how much the puppies were going to cost. The man told him that they were very good dogs, and he did not expect to let any of them go for less than $35 or $40. There was a look of disappointment and then a question:

“I’ve got $2.37. Could I look at them?”

The man whistled and called, “Lady.” And out of the kennel and down the runway came Lady followed by four or five little balls of fur with one lagging considerably behind.

The boy spotted the laggard and, pointing, asked, “What’s wrong with him?” The reply was that the veterinarian had said that there was no hip socket in the right hip, and that dog would always be lame.

The boy’s immediate rejoinder was, “That’s the one I want to buy. I’ll give you $2.37 down, and fifty cents a month until I get him paid for.”

The man smiled and shook his head. “That’s not the dog you want. That dog will never be able to run and jump and play with you.”

The boy very matter-of-factly pulled up his trouser leg and revealed a brace running up both sides of his badly twisted right leg and over the foot, with a leather cap over the knee. “I don’t run so well myself,” he said, “and he’ll need someone that understands him.”

On one occasion a Church leader was confronted by a grieving parent who wanted one of God’s commandments softened to accommodate a wayward child who had been disciplined by the Church. In his grief the parent had suggested that the Church leader was unchristian in denying the child the full benefits of membership in the Church.

The Church leader shared the sorrow of the parents and the child, but he remained loyal to the commandments of the Lord. In response to the accusation of not being a Christian, the leader said, “If I were to attempt to change the commandments, at that very moment I would no longer be following Christ’s teachings.”