Gospel Story Finder

If you live in Calgary, Alberta, Canada, and you drink a lot of milk, you might be reading about a prominent LDS figure, thanks to 15-year-old Roger Laycock.
Roger recently won a writing contest with an essay on his great-grandfather, an agricultural scientist who helped make farming the dry regions of Alberta possible. He was also a stake president in the area. Roger’s essay was chosen by the Legend dairy to be printed on its milk cartons.
Roger is a teacher in the Oakridge Ward, Calgary Alberta Stake.

During a recent stake conference assignment I attended in the Philippines, my heart was broken as I learned of the tragic experience of Brother Daniel Apilado. Brother Apilado and his wife were baptized in 1974. They embraced the restored gospel and were sealed in the temple. Thereafter, they were blessed with five beautiful children. On July 7, 1997, while Brother Apilado was serving as the stake president, a fire broke out in their small home. Brother Apilado’s oldest son, Michael, rescued his father, pulled him from the burning structure, and then ran back into the house to rescue others. It was the last time Brother Apilado saw his son alive. Taken in the fire were Brother Apilado’s wife, Dominga, and each of their five children.
The fact that Brother Apilado was living a life pleasing unto God when tragedy struck did not prevent the tragedy, nor did it make him immune from the sorrow that followed. But his faithfulness in keeping his covenants and exercising his faith in Christ gave him assurance in the promise that he will be reunited with his wife and family. This hope became an anchor to his soul.14
During my visit, Brother Apilado, now the stake patriarch, introduced me to his new wife, Simonette, and to their two sons, Raphael and Daniel. Truly, Jesus Christ can and will “bind up the brokenhearted.”15
In sharing Brother Apilado’s story, I am concerned that the enormity of his loss may cause many to think their own sorrows and sufferings are of little consequence in comparison. Please don’t compare, but seek to learn and apply eternal principles as you wade through the furnace of your own afflictions.

Recently I dedicated a beautiful little chapel, and at that time I was told that in order to pay the balance of the ward’s share of the construction cost ($5,000), the bishop had asked all members to limit Christmas presents to small children and to donate the amount thus saved to the building fund. The members responded beautifully, considering this an opportunity to receive a blessing rather than as a sacrifice, and at the dedicatory service many bore witness to this effect.

But that was not the end of John the Baptist’s ministry. When Joseph Smith and Oliver Cowdery were translating the Book of Mormon, they came across a passage concerning baptism. On May 15, 1829, they went into the woods to pray to understand this principle. In answer to their prayers, the resurrected John the Baptist appeared to them. He laid his hands upon their heads and ordained them to the Aaronic Priesthood, saying, “Upon you my fellow servants, in the name of Messiah I confer the Priesthood of Aaron, which holds the keys of the ministering of angels, and of the gospel of repentance, and of baptism by immersion for the remission of sins” (D&C 13:1). Joseph and Oliver then were instructed to baptize each other and to then confer the Aaronic Priesthood upon each other, which they did.

Thus John the Baptist, whom Jesus Christ called “a burning and a shining light” (John 5:35) continued his ministry by restoring the Aaronic Priesthood in these latter days.

The Lord has always put an emphasis on the family. Deuteronomy 6:7 reads, “And thou shalt teach [the gospel] diligently unto thy children, and shalt talk of [it] when thou sittest in thine house, and when thou walkest by the way, and when thou liest down, and when thou risest up.” This scripture shows how my mother and father taught us. As we sat in our house, we studied the scriptures and had family home evening. While we “[walked] by the way” (or gardened or fished), my dad always talked to me about the gospel. When we lay down at night, I remember my mother and father telling us bedtime stories from the Bible. And when we “[rose] up” in the mornings, we always started the day with family prayer.

My beloved wife, Ethel, and I enjoyed 37 years of a wonderfully happy marriage. At least that’s how I saw it. I hope she did too! Even her previous survival of cancer on two occasions and her significantly declining health over three years did not prepare me for what seemed an awful, sudden separation upon her death in 2021.
After her passing, the feelings of grief were intense and devastating. I was very fortunate. I had married an exceptional woman. We had many great shared memories. We had three daughters who lived nearby. I had a supportive Church community. One or two trusted friends were willing listeners, with whom I could share my innermost thoughts – though I felt awkward doing so. Even then, none of these, not even the sum of them, seemed to ease the immeasurable sorrow I felt.
Initially, the grief came in what seemed like never-ending torrents and, as time passed, later became waves (just as painful) that would crash onto me without warning. Bumping into someone, seeing a dress in a shop, hearing a piece of music, watching a grandchild that Ethel had never lived to see – all of these and more would bring on the tears. Nearly four years after Ethel’s departure, the frequency of intense grief has decreased, but the unpredictable onset of weeping for her continues with similar intensity. I wouldn’t have it any other way, though. Love does that to you.

I loved the article “Practice Makes Possible” (Feb. 2004) by President Heber J. Grant. The influence this article had in my life was so great I decided to write to express my appreciation immediately.
A few months ago my mission president encouraged us to sing hymns during our discussions with investigators, but I was hesitant because I felt that I did not have a nice voice. As I read this article, I realized that my voice plays only a little role in carrying the hymn’s message to the heart of my investigators as compared to singing the hymn in the spirit in which it was written. I took the courage to put into practice the message I got from the article, and I have been successful these few times.Elder Aristotle Fokuo, Nigeria Port Harcourt Mission

Kandace Lim, age 18, helped by taking multiple roles, including being a member of the costume committee, the choreography committee, and the photography committee and also by singing a solo. About her many responsibilities, she said: “It was my mum who inspired me to take on these assignments. She taught me that if there’s a chance to serve, just go for it. If you accept the task and put in your best effort, the Lord will definitely help you get through any difficulties you might face.”

Tired of being the only one with your high standards in your peer group? Try doing what the youth on the island of Yap did—they created their own peer group.
Yap is about 532 miles southeast of Guam, has an area of 39.1 square miles, and has a total population of nearly 9,350. The Church is growing rapidly there, and the LDS youth have a reputation for not smoking, drinking, taking drugs, or chewing the betelnut, a druglike substance that stains the teeth and harms the body. The LDS youth are also noted for breaking down the island’s rigid caste system. Everyone at church is treated as a child of God, regardless of family status.
Recently, the youth worked with their leaders and the missionaries to organize a one-day mission activity. They participated in everything from interviews to an MTC experience to proselyting, while dressing like missionaries and following mission rules. As a result, 49 copies of the Book of Mormon were placed on their island. Already some of the people they contacted have been baptized.

One of Sister Redd’s “jewel” times was at the birth of her first child, a son. But within three months the trials and tests of this life closed in. Both mother and child were afflicted with polio. Anxieties were high and prayers were intense. Brother Philip Redd, her husband and now area director of seminaries and institutes in Southeast Asia, was preparing within the month to begin his career as a full-time seminary teacher. “We felt we had really tried to do what was right and that we were doing what the Lord wanted us to be doing. We had faith that the Lord would bless us even in our afflictions.”

Our Father in Heaven has told us that his people must be tried and tested, even as Abraham who was commanded to offer up his only son (see Gen. 22:1–4; D&C 101:4). And so it was that this faithful couple was tested. Their prayers were answered, but only partially. Sister Redd was healed and left without any ill effects from the dread disease, but her precious child, her only son, was stricken with crippling paralysis in his leg, his arms, and his back. The brightness of a happy time had quickly faded. The scratches and bites of life became a painful reality. Brother and Sister Redd were forced to give up their child to the professional care of the children’s hospital over a hundred miles away where he could receive special attention. Even after a year he was still very weak and progress remained slow.

Three long, anxious years, and the concern for her child only increased. The divine nature of a true and righteous mother, with all of the pure emotions inherent in the sacred role of motherhood, swelled within her aching heart. “I wanted desperately for him to be well,” she whispered. “It was so hard not to be able to tuck my little boy in at night. His life was vital to us.”

One night at the very peak of her anxiety, this young mother rose from her bed, went into the other room, and talked to her Father in Heaven. She had remembered an incident in her own childhood. A great and noble woman had prayed in behalf of her afflicted husband and requested that, if the Lord were willing, she be allowed to carry her husband’s infirmities so that his service to the Lord would not be restricted. This sister, almost immediately, became stone deaf and remained so throughout her life, while her husband, miraculously healed, became a spiritual giant, a man of God, and a powerful leader in building the kingdom of God in that area. With the memory of this incident in her heart, this faithful mother supplicated the Father in her son’s behalf, asking if she might take her son’s infirmities upon herself. Of this incident she concluded, “I returned to my bed and went to sleep.”

Even though her baby remained in the hospital, there were still some happy, “jewel” times. Another little boy was born and then a little girl. In time the afflicted child became stronger and stronger, and he learned to walk with braces. Eventually he was able to leave the hospital for a time, allowing this little family to be together at home for Christmas.

While there were ample reasons for quiet rejoicing, the scratching, biting times were painfully evident. Gradually over the following months Sister Redd became aware that she was losing the feeling in her hands and her feet. While diapering her baby, she would often stick the safety pin into her thumb unknowingly. When she noticed the blood, her growing concern increased. She sensed a frightening paralysis creeping over her entire body. It was very difficult for her to handle her new baby and the responsibilities of her young family. As the months and years passed, there were both struggles and blessings. Braces were laid aside and her little son managed to make his way to school. The blessings were acknowledged with humble gratitude, deeply expressed. But suffering severe headaches and with no feeling in her hands or feet, the young mother of three cried out for help. The support of family and friends seemed not enough. “People were good, so very, very good,” she gratefully recalled. “But being restricted physically, not being able to take care of those you love, is difficult.”

At this time a team of specialists determined that it was probably multiple sclerosis that had afflicted her body, leaving her so painfully handicapped. The thoughts of her future gave cause for great anxiety. “That was years ago,” she said. Sister Redd, now a beautiful, healthy, and active woman, vibrant in countenance and testimony, radiates a spirit that has been purified through struggle.

She spoke of the day she and her devoted husband, seeking first the will of the Lord in all things, asked counsel from a friend who had been the supervisor of seminaries and was now a General Authority. “He told us that he didn’t think the Lord meant for me to give my life. He gave me a blessing, explaining that the Lord had accepted my offering in behalf of my child. He promised me that I would live. But it is not we who regulate the magnitude of our tests or determine the time of relief,” she explained. “We do not receive a witness until after the trial of our faith (see Ether 12:6), and our Father in Heaven will make that determination.”

The very hour one might expect relief may be the moment in which the Lord will take count of our endurance and our faithfulness. Following the blessing, Sister Redd’s condition worsened, and on the 25th of October she was confined to bed. She had to be fed, and “I couldn’t even brush my teeth,” she explained. “My good husband and I talked about the purpose of life and death, and we prayed that we could accept whatever the Lord had for us. At that time we felt that everything would be all right.” Drawing strength from each other, these young parents were tested and were found “willing to submit to all things which the Lord seeth fit to inflict upon [them], even as a child doth submit to his father” (Mosiah 3:19).

On the 20th of December Nedra Redd was flown to the hospital in Edmonton. There she received further tests. After two long, anxious days, the doctors confirmed the probability that it was not multiple sclerosis that had afflicted her entire body, but rather a very deep and serious brain tumor at the base of her skull. It appeared to be inoperable. In her weakened condition, the possibility of surgery was considered a high and frightening risk. But the doctors explained that she would have only two weeks to live if they didn’t remove the growth. It was seriously impairing her breathing and would soon cut off her rapidly diminishing flow of air. The situation seemed desperate. One doctor offered counsel, suggesting that if they wanted to risk surgery, they would surely want to wait until after Christmas. But Sister Redd reached into her reservoir of strength, filled in large measure by the blessing she had received from their friend the General Authority. Courageously this young couple made their decision. “Surgery was scheduled for Christmas Eve,” she said. “We felt our Father in Heaven was beginning to answer our prayers. On Sunday night my cousin, who was the stake president, came to give me a blessing. He told me later that when he gave me that blessing, he literally felt the strength flow from him.” The power of the priesthood was again activated in her behalf.

Anxious family and friends waited through the nightlong vigil following the surgery. Dawn broke forth; it was Christmas morning. The tumor had been removed. All was quiet as the moments ticked on in that hospital room. Her future hung in the balance. “I had a very special thinking time as I regained consciousness,” Sister Redd explained. It was in the twilight time between life and death that the gifts of life came back to this faithful woman on that Christmas morning. They returned one by one with enough space between each to allow time for cherishing and savoring. Such gifts, such jewels, such priceless jewels!

“I’m all right! I didn’t die in surgery! I’m alive!” was her first realization. “But everything was black, and I couldn’t hear anything. I tried to speak, and I couldn’t speak. I thought, ‘I’m blind. I can’t hear. I can’t speak. But I am alive.’ I can remember such a surge of gratitude that I was alive, and then I sank into unconsciousness again. When I realized later that I was conscious again and that there was a sort of grayness around me, I thought, ‘I am not totally blind. I can see some light.’ I can remember praying and telling my Father, ‘Thank you. I’m alive and I’m not totally blind.’ I couldn’t have lived in darkness. So I gave thanks again. Then I realized I could see Phil’s face. My husband was talking to me, but I couldn’t hear him. But,” she said with intensity, “I could see him. I was grateful that I could see his face.

“Soon I realized I could hear him speaking to me, so I prayed again and gave thanks that I could see and hear. I thought, ‘I can’t speak, but it’s enough. I can see and I can hear.’”

Sister Redd, reflecting on her deep gratitude for those precious gifts on that Christmas morning, shared the ecstasy of her final treasure. “The doctor was there. I had been trying to speak. I heard him ask my husband, ‘Can she speak?’ He shook his head just slightly. ‘I was afraid of that,’ the doctor said. ‘We had to destroy quite a bit of her vocal chords to get the tumor.’ I was afraid she would not be able to speak.”

With a happy tone in her clear, full voice, Sister Redd recalled her thoughts at that moment: “‘Oh, so that’s it,’ I thought. ‘I can’t talk. But I can hear and I can see.’ I had such a deep feeling of joy and gratitude. Then the doctor put his finger on the hole in my throat where the tracheotomy was and said, ‘Now try.’ I could make sounds! I knew I was not mute. It was such a good feeling. We knew the Lord had blessed us.

“It was Christmas morning. Phil had spent the night with me when I needed him so much. With my whole soul filled with gratitude and thanksgiving, I asked him to go home and be with the children. It was a wonderful Christmas.”

From the deep reservoir of faith and courage, carved out by times of trial and suffering, Brother and Sister Redd rejoice. “It is such a comforting feeling to know that there is nothing the Lord can’t do or won’t do for you if it is for your good.” They have made this discovery: “The Lord is in the everyday things, not just the eternal, glorious things. It’s like the comparison between the ‘Hallelujah Chorus’ and quiet background music. He is in both, and knowing that provides a continuous awareness of happily-ever-after times in all of life.”

Later I moved to Brazil. I learned the leaders in the area were preparing for an FSY conference. As an Area Seventy, I was invited to help organize the conference and to participate in all five days with the youth.
Before I left, the Area Presidency asked me to be prepared to give a report on my experience at FSY when I returned. My wife and I attended the conference, and for the first three days we enjoyed the planned activities, including morning scripture study, devotionals, classes, outside activities, good food, family home evening, and dances. Everything moved forward as planned, and I felt that I had seen enough to complete my report.
The next evening, we held a beautiful and touching musical program. The Spirit was so special that the owner of the conference site, not a member of the Church, told me that he would love to have our group attend FSY at his place every year.
After the musical program, the youth gathered in their groups for a testimony meeting. My wife and I went from group to group and heard touching testimonies. We could tell that the participants in the conference had been having strong spiritual experiences. We loved hearing the youth freely express their feelings of happiness. We felt like a part of a big spiritual family. We felt the love of the Savior for each one of us.
I looked to my wife and asked, “What is going on here?” She could not say a word. But we knew so many had experienced a spiritual moment and received an unforgettable testimony of the Lord, Jesus Christ.
I went to my room that night and wrote a totally different report! The following year, my wife and I went to FSY again and enjoyed the same experience. Now I understand why the youth in that testimony meeting in Spain shared such meaningful feelings for the Savior instead of relating the fun activities they had.

When Larry Miner Gibson graduated from high school, he decided to hike into Havasupai, Arizona, USA, in the Grand Canyon, where he spent several days reading the Book of Mormon and praying about and pondering on his testimony. He says he cannot remember a time that he did not know the Church was true, but he wanted to make sure he had a solid focus and foundation before going out into the world.
“Some very sacred things happened during that experience,” he says, “that helped me as I went away to school and then on a mission.”

The author says, “Just in case you might think that maybe a blind colt would not be able to do all the things that this one did … we had a blind range colt on the ranch in Montana. … And he was a smart little feller.”Glen Rounds9–12 years

I do recall as a young girl how ugly pierced ear lobes looked to me. A relative who had been born in the 1870s had had her ears pierced as a teenage girl. It was very popular at that time in Salt Lake City. However, this woman did not always wear earrings, and the perforations were most ugly to me.

Since it was near the beginning of the school year, being only the second week of classes, his teachers didn’t make much of a fuss over him. He sat unknown in his first two classes. When the bell rang, old friends joined up, leaving him alone and ignored.
His 11:00 class was sociology. It took him a long time to find the room, so that by the time he arrived, it was already nearly full. He found an empty desk and sat down.
To his left a boy was scanning a “men’s” magazine. As he slowly turned each page on his desk, he grinned, chattering a stream of crude remarks to his friend ahead of him.
Kevin looked away to avoid seeing the picture spread blatantly on the desk next to his. He felt his stomach churning; he clenched his teeth tightly, thinking sarcastically that he wished his father were there to see some of the new friends he was making in his new school.
“Hey, are you new here?”
Kevin turned back and saw the boy facing him, holding the rolled-up magazine in one hand. Nodding his head, he said, “Yeah, we just moved here.”
“Great. They call me Fitzie,” he said, flashing a broad grin. “Hey, have you seen this issue yet? Go ahead, take a look.” He plopped the magazine on Kevin’s desk.
Kevin’s mind raced, his internal defense and prosecution lawyers giving their arguments why he should or should not open the magazine to avoid offending the only person who had made any attempt to be a friend.
“C’mon, hurry up,” the boy said impatiently. “Class is going to start in a minute. You do want to look at this, don’t you?”
Kevin paused for what seemed a long time, then with a smile handed the magazine back. “Later. There’s not enough time now.”
At first he thought it had been a victory. After all, he thought, I didn’t look at the magazine. But a gnawing uneasiness bothered him.
The class began with Mr. Martin yelling to get everybody to quiet down. Mr. Martin had the voice and face of a movie gangster, but either because of that or in spite of it, he had control and the interest of his class.
“Today,” he said, leaning against the front of his desk, “we’re going to talk about what ethical basis you use in making decisions or why you do the things that you do. Fitzie, you usually have something interesting to say. Why do you do some things but don’t do others?”
Fitzie extended his feet further into the aisle, attempting to look more relaxed than he was. “I don’t know. I’m no philosopher. I just do things.”
“But how do you decide?”
“Well,” he said with a mischievous grin, “if it looks like fun, then I do it.” This brought catcalls of approval from many in the class.
“Kim, what basis do you use in making decisions?” Mr. Martin asked.
Kim sat three seats from Kevin. He was fascinated by her. Her high cheekbones made her look as if some sculptor had fashioned her face. She caught him staring at her and cast him a hurried smile.
“I think it’s important to be sincere,” she answered. “We live in an age of freedom, don’t we? All the old barriers are down. We’re free to do anything we want to, as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone. So all we have to do is to be honest with our feelings.”
The discussion came around to dating. Kim raised her hand and was called on by Mr. Martin.
“If a girl is going with a guy,” she said, nervously tapping her pencil on the desk, “and if she really cares about him, and if he’s sincerely interested in her at the time, then I think it’s okay for them to use their freedom. I mean, what good is freedom if you don’t use it?”
Mr. Martin walked intently across the room toward Kim. “You say if he’s sincere at the time. What happens when he no longer cares about her?”
Kevin sat close enough to see her eyes close momentarily, as if Mr. Martin had found a weakness. She fought for composure for only a moment, her distress unnoticed by most in the class. “Well, of course, people change … and drift apart. Maybe if they can just try to be honest with their feelings,” her voice trailed off, “while they’re together, maybe that’s all any of us can hope for.”
As the discussion continued, Kevin suddenly realized that he was waiting for someone to stand and present arguments against the ideas being given for doing whatever looked like fun—someone who would say that freedom requires responsibility. In his classes back home in his old high school, although there had been the same reasons given for freedom to “love,” there had always been some of his friends who defended the standards of the gospel.
By the end of the class he realized that the someone he waited for wasn’t around anymore. More painful to him, he realized that he had not been that someone.
After class Kevin went up and introduced himself to Mr. Martin, who gave him some previous assignments.
As he turned to leave, Kim was waiting for him.
“You’re new here, aren’t you? Can I show you how to make it through the cafeteria alive?”
They jostled their way through the line and ate by themselves at one end of a table in the corner. As they ate, other boys came and talked with Kim. As they were leaving the cafeteria, she told him, “I’m not going with anyone now … in case you were wondering.”
They walked outside to the parking lot in back of school. It was filled with students lounging in cars or standing around talking.
“You can get anything here in the parking lot if you need it,” she said to him.
He looked at her with a puzzled expression.
“You know? Beer, grass, whatever you need.”
“Oh,” he said, looking more carefully at the cars filled with students.
“Mostly I’ve given it up. Now it’s just for special occasions. How about you?”
“I’ve never tried it.”
“Never? Why not?”
“I don’t know,” he said weakly, again feeling his stomach tighten up.
“Well, you should,” she said, touching his arm, “just to see what it’s like. It’s fun. Sometime, when my parents are out of town, I’ll let you know. Maybe we could get a few others together and have a party.”

As we look heavenward for understanding and help, we can find comfort in knowing that a loving Father will not leave us alone in our hour of need (see D&C 24:8). Elder Robert D. Hales of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, speaking in October 1998 general conference, reported on his experience and thoughts following his third heart attack, which required bypass surgery. During the time he was lying in a hospital bed and later convalescing at home, he pondered the meaning of life and the eternities. As he endured physical pain, he also thought of the deeper pain and anguish of the soul. He came to realize how important many types of caregivers are to the healing process: doctors, nurses, therapists, a loving spouse, parents, children, and friends. “The Lord is the ultimate caregiver,” he reflected. “We must surrender ourselves to the Lord. In doing so, we give up whatever is causing our pain and turn everything over to Him” (“Healing Soul and Body,” Liahona, January 1999, 19).

For her Faith in God Award, Chevon Rayner is working on several activities and keeping a record of them in her journal. For the “Learning and Living the Gospel” category, she created a gospel crossword puzzle with 72 answers. She made it up from notes she took in her Primary class. She is studying the piano to develop her talents and meet the great need for pianists in the branches in Malaysia. Chevon also organized a dinner and made cakes for Valentine’s Day for the eight missionaries in her area. This is part of her “Serving Others” requirement. She also reads the scriptures every day.

Elder Patricio M. Giuffra was four years old when his father died of cancer. As a child, he grew up questioning God and wondering why life was so unfair.
“My father was a good husband, father, and provider,” Elder Giuffra recalled thinking. “Why did he have to die?”
Answers and understanding came about a decade later when Patricio and his mother met the full-time missionaries and accepted the gospel.
The plan of salvation gave him hope because it helped him understand his family’s loss. “My father prepared the way for us to join the Church,” he said.
From the time he was baptized, the gospel of Jesus Christ has anchored Elder Giuffra’s life. “The Church has been my life,” he said. “I feel like I’ve always belonged to the Church.”

In preparation for that assignment, I reread the Life of Heber C. Kimball, written by his grandson Orson F. Whitney, who later was called to the apostleship. This volume was given to me by my precious mother when I was almost seven years old. We were preparing to attend the dedication of the This Is the Place Monument on July 24, 1947, by President George Albert Smith. She wanted me to know more about my ancestor Heber C. Kimball.

Joseph’s brother Hyrum was always Joseph’s constant supporter. During their lives, Joseph and Hyrum faced mobs and persecution together. For example, they languished in the most wretched conditions in the Liberty Jail in Missouri for five months during the cold winter of 1838–39.
In the face of persecution, Hyrum exhibited faith in the Lord’s promises, including a guarantee to escape his enemies if he so chose. In June 1844, Hyrum was presented the choice to live or to lay down his life to glorify God and to “seal his testimony with his blood”—side by side together with his beloved brother Joseph (see Doctrine and Covenants 136:39).
A week before they were murdered in cold blood, Joseph told Hyrum to take his family and leave. I still feel great emotion as I remember Hyrum’s reply: “Joseph, I can’t leave you.’’2
So Joseph and Hyrum went to Carthage, where they became martyrs for Christ’s cause and name. “In life they were not divided, and in death they were not separated!” (Doctrine and Covenants 135:3; emphasis added).