Gospel Story Finder

Of all the titles God can rightfully claim, He invites His children to address Him as Father. As a young parent, I came to know my Heavenly Father better. Our first child was two or three and just beginning to learn right from wrong. One day he had done something wrong, and I felt myself getting a little upset.

Then he ran to me for a hug while saying, “Daddy, I’m sorry.”

In an instant my disappointment melted away. In that moment I came to understand in a way I had not previously the great love Heavenly Father has for His children and how quickly He forgives and forgets. Marriage and children offer an opportunity to feel what our heavenly parents feel.

I testify of the spiritual growth and true joy that come from receiving and being faithful to the crowning covenant in the house of the Lord—being sealed to your eternal companion—and then, if so blessed, from being able to “raise up [children] unto the Lord.”53

I was sent to France as a missionary in 1949. Missionary work then was much different from missionary work now. There was no Missionary Training Center, so when I arrived in Paris, I had had no language training at all. There wasn’t a set of lessons to teach investigators. Different missionaries used different methods to teach the gospel.
I had been in Paris for just a few weeks when my companion received word that his mother was dying of cancer. Since his scheduled release date was only weeks away, the mission president allowed him to return home early to see his mother. If that had happened today, another elder would have been transferred to my area to be my companion. But in those days I was left to work by myself until transfers for the entire mission were made.
Before he left, my companion and I had scheduled a few lessons. I knew that I would have to take care of those appointments. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know the French language, and there were no prepared discussions. I was nervous and frightened.
I began to read the Book of Mormon and to pray as hard as I could. I would pray, and then I would read, then I would pray again and read some more. This went on for several days.
Finally it was time to go to my first appointment—the Alvarez family. They were a lovely couple whom we had just begun teaching. When I went, I didn’t know what I was going to say. I had a testimony of the gospel and the Restoration, but I did not know French.
But when I went to see this family, the Lord took over. For two hours I taught them. I’m sure that it wasn’t in beautiful French, but I was able to communicate with them how I felt about the gospel. They understood the message and were touched by the Spirit.
That night when I returned to my apartment, I knew that there really was a Father in Heaven and that he had called me on a mission. I knew that Heavenly Father had watched over and helped me—had loosed my tongue—and that he watches over all his missionaries. It was the first spiritual testimony that I had received in my life of the truthfulness of this work. Serving a mission was one of the greatest blessings that ever happened to me.

"An old Jewish legend tells of two brothers, Abram and Zimri, who owned a field and worked it together. They agreed to divide both the labor and the harvest equally. One night as the harvest came to a close, Zimri could not sleep, for it didn't seem right that Abram, who had a wife and seven sons to feed, should receive only half of the harvest, while he, with only himself to support, had so much.
So Zimri dressed and quietly went into the field, where he took a third of his harvest and put it in his brother's pile. He then returned to his bed, satisfied that he had done the right thing.
Meanwhile, Abram could not sleep either. He thought of his poor brother, Zimri, who was all alone and had no sons to help him with the work. It did not seem right that Zimri, who worked so hard by himself, should get only half of the harvest. Surely this was not pleasing to God. And so Abram quietly went to the fields, where he took a third of his harvest and placed it in the pile of his beloved brother.
The next morning, the brothers went to the field and were both astonished that the piles still looked to be the same size. That night both brothers slipped out of their houses to repeat their efforts of the previous night. But this time they discovered each other, and when they did, they wept and embraced. Neither could speak, for their hearts were overcome with love and gratitude"

As the desire for stability and truth grew in my life, this great desire caused me to turn to the scriptures. It was then that I found a new meaning in Moroni 10:4 [Moro. 10:4]:
“And when ye shall receive these things, I would ask God, the eternal Father in the name of Christ, if these things are not true; and if ye shall ask with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ, he will manifest the truth of it unto you, by the power of the Holy Ghost.”
These were words of hope and comfort to me. I began to read the Book of Mormon with a new purpose. The writings of the prophets found a new place in my heart. I read with the desire to learn and know.
I longed for the comfort, purpose, and perspective that the gospel had always given to my life. Each night before I read, I would pray with a great desire to know the truth. I felt that the scriptures were true, but I wanted to know. When I read, I often found scriptures that gave me inspiration on how to live my life better. Many tears were shed as I felt the power and truth of the Book of Mormon.
I began to regard prayer more seriously. My relationship with my Father in Heaven became much closer. I prayed to him with a new enthusiasm. I desired to know if he was there. I prayed for a remission of my sins. I prayed for forgiveness because of my lack of faith.
After reading the Book of Mormon, I knelt in prayer. I had a great desire to know of its truth. I hoped it was true, knowing what joy this would bring me. That night I prayed for hours desiring to know. The following nights I continued in my prayers and began to wonder if I would receive a witness.
My determination in waiting for a witness was a trial of my faith. After many days I came to the realization that I knew the Book of Mormon was true. It came not as a sign or a voice. I knew because in the center of my being I could not deny that it was true. I also knew that God existed and that he is my Heavenly Father, that Jesus Christ is the only begotten son of God.
This came to me, not as new knowledge, but as a peaceful remembrance of that which I already knew. I did not need a further witness. I had always known the truth. My pride in my own knowledge had caused me to forget my testimony.
With this new understanding my life received meaning and peace. Although I still question some of what I hear, I do it for my own good and a desire to learn the truth.

This brief story teaches a lesson that I learned when I was very young. We were fairly newly married, living in a subdivision with echoes of ourselves all around us: people in the same boat. It was that kind of community.

There moved into our place a young couple from a small Utah town. They had big dreams: he was going to go to school; she would teach piano lessons and make the money. They’d move ahead and not be stuck down in some little place where they couldn’t progress.

But things seldom work out exactly as we plan. She was always pregnant or always playing at funerals or always diapering. He was always doing little odd jobs to get a little more money because she was always having babies and taking care of them. So his schooling didn’t go very fast, and life got away from them. The house got out of control. The children were left pretty much to themselves, and chaos soon took over.

She was taken to the hospital desperately ill in a season like this we’re coming into—struggling for her life. No piano lessons now, no money coming in. He had to be gone at least sixteen or seventeen hours a day trying to get money to keep food on the table.

When the word got around into our neighborhood, the sisters moved on it. We were good do-gooders, we were going to help, and I will never forget going into the house and suddenly becoming aware of what people do in a house that is unattended by the owners. Judgment and criticism, unhappy partners, complaints over the refrigerator, over the organizational structure, over the décor, and it was finally agreed—you see, hearts were opened then in the season of the celebration—“Let’s change all this. We’ll paint it, we’ll clean it up, we’ll make it wonderful, and when she comes back it will be pleasing.”

This family liked every room brightly colored. What happened in this well-meaningness was the rooms were scraped and scrubbed and painted clinical white. The kitchen cupboards were rearranged according to a stranger’s kitchen habits. Pictures were hung at the eye level of the person who now had the hammer. Worst of all, the children’s progress marks of growth were painted off the wall.

The family came back intact. We were surprised when a few weeks later they moved from our neighborhood. It was the day of a terrible snowstorm, so thick it fell that everything was whitened like the clinical rooms. As the family left, they preceded the moving van, and they had crepe paper streamers tied to the handles and the antennae and the décor on the front of the grillwork of the car, and they proved they liked color, and they honked all the way through the neighborhood, down the hill, out of our lives.

You see, like a deciduous tree at this season, like our Christ upon the cross, they had been exposed to the neighborhood and found wanting. Help was necessary, but not complete change from what they had established as their life style.

There once was a man whose lifelong dream was to board a cruise ship and sail the Mediterranean Sea. He dreamed of walking the streets of Rome, Athens, and Istanbul. He saved every penny until he had enough for his passage. Since money was tight, he brought an extra suitcase filled with cans of beans, boxes of crackers, and bags of powdered lemonade, and that is what he lived on every day.
He would have loved to take part in the many activities offered on the ship—working out in the gym, playing miniature golf, and swimming in the pool. He envied those who went to movies, shows, and cultural presentations. And, oh, how he yearned for only a taste of the amazing food he saw on the ship—every meal appeared to be a feast! But the man wanted to spend so very little money that he didn’t participate in any of these. He was able to see the cities he had longed to visit, but for the most part of the journey, he stayed in his cabin and ate only his humble food.
On the last day of the cruise, a crew member asked him which of the farewell parties he would be attending. It was then that the man learned that not only the farewell party but almost everything on board the cruise ship—the food, the entertainment, all the activities—had been included in the price of his ticket. Too late the man realized that he had been living far beneath his privileges.

Eriklook huddled close behind the oil stove. The canvas walls of the tent flapped in and out with a sharp snapping sound as the Arctic wind blew fiercely outside.
Quiet as a lemming, the Eskimo boy listened from his hiding place as the men talked. They were herders who guarded the village reindeer against danger. Ahsanna, the chief herdsman, had called them to his tent for a special meeting.
“I saw wolf tracks this morning,” Ahsanna was saying. “We must keep a careful watch.”
“Aye,” agreed the herdsmen.
“One wolf can do much damage,” observed Saganna, “but many wolves could destroy the herd.” He was a great hunter and knew much about the cunning ways of the wolf.
The herdsmen were worried. Reindeer were the main source of food for their village, and any threat to them was a serious matter.
“We could put up a scarecrow to help keep the wolves away,” suggested Sovalik, a younger herdsman.
“No,” said Ahsanna, “the wolves are smart. They would probably chew the scarecrow to pieces.”
The thought of this made Eriklook giggle. Suddenly the men became still, and all eyes turned toward the stove where he was hiding.
“Young boys do not have the right to laugh at the talk of men,” Ahsanna said loudly. “Come out and explain yourself, boy!”
Eriklook crept from behind the stove. He tried to talk, but he was so frightened he could only stutter.
“You must leave the tent,” ordered Ahsanna sternly, “and return to the village. Because you have done wrong, you will not be allowed to visit the herd again until permission is granted.”
Eriklook sadly left the tent without saying a word. Outside he made his way toward the reindeer for one last look.
There were several hundred animals of all ages and sizes in the herd. Eriklook liked to watch them as they grazed. The animals were thin, but by fall they would be fat again.
It’s a wonder, thought Eriklook, that there is enough grass to go around. The reindeer eat continuously!
As Eriklook turned and started for the village, he suddenly caught a glimpse of a flash of gray. Then he saw another and another. A large band of wolves was coming across the Arctic prairie.
Eriklook knew they must be driven off at once or they would harm the herd.
He quickly grabbed his wolf chaser from his parka pocket and began whirling it as he ran toward the herd. The chaser was made from a piece of whalebone about ten inches long and one-inch thick. There were notches cut along both edges, and a sealskin thong was attached to one end.
As he ran through the center of the reindeer straight toward the wolves, Eriklook whirled the wolf chaser above his head in a circle so that it made a loud humming sound. The noise hurt the ears of the wolves so they stopped moving.
“Get away!” shouted Eriklook. “Get away!”
But the big fierce-looking animals growled and flattened their ears to show they weren’t afraid. Then they began to creep on their bellies toward the boy and the herd.
Eriklook was frightened, but he didn’t dare turn away. The pack would be on him in seconds if he turned his back. He continued moving toward the wolves, whirling his wolf chaser until it sang.
“Go away!” he shouted. “Get out of here!”
The wolves circled, baffled and uneasy. Snarling, they retreated a little.
This gave Eriklook courage.
“Go!” he commanded. “Go!”
Suddenly a shot boomed out from behind the boy, and the wolves fled across the tundra and were soon out of sight behind the low hummocks.
“Well,” exclaimed Ahsanna, lowering his gun, “I don’t think they will return for quite a while.”
He caught Eriklook under the arms and swung him around.
“Because of your bravery you have saved many reindeer,” he said. “Without your shouts we would not have known the wolves were here until it was too late.”
The chief herdsman looked at his helpers who had gathered around.
“Eriklook was punished because he foolishly broke a rule,” said Ahsanna, “but what about us? We too were foolish for leaving the herd unguarded. I think we have all learned a lesson today!”
“Aye,” they said, nodding their heads at the boy.
Ahsanna looked at Eriklook and smiled. “We all thank you for what you have done for us today,” he said. “And soon you can visit the herd again!”

I have learned the importance of the Savior’s yoke through my battles with cancer. I wasn’t particularly thrilled with the plan to go through chemotherapy and radiation, and I still wish I had hired President Worthen to read through the small print on my contract for mortality. Nevertheless, cancer has brought me to my knees on many occasions. I learned quickly that Satan would wait until my strength was gone to cause me to doubt if God was really there for me. I had moments when I would question my testimony and wonder if I was worth saving or question if I had accomplished anything worthwhile in my life.
It was during one of these low moments that I was reading the Savior’s invitation in Luke: “And he said to them all, If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross daily, and follow me” (Luke 9:23).
This scripture didn’t tell me to follow Him as long as I didn’t have cancer, and it didn’t tell me to follow Him only if I was married or had righteous children, and it didn’t tell me to follow Him only when I was having a good day. I learned that no matter what my circumstances were, I needed to deny myself and follow Christ daily. In other words, no matter what my struggle was, peace came as I continued to be all the way in the gospel.

As a kid, I didn’t have very many good interactions with girls. I always thought they represented the “opposite.” When I moved, I struggled because there were more girls in my new ward than there were in my old ward. I didn’t know how to talk to them.
Still, a girl in the ward was one of the first people to welcome me. We ended up becoming close friends. One day, I gave her a gift, but I didn’t know if she would like it. She misunderstood the present and thought I was romantically interested in her. As a result, we didn’t talk for six months.
It was tough because I really wanted to be friends with her. I was scared to apologize incorrectly and possibly make things worse. But I missed her friendship and felt awful that I’d made her feel bad. Before this, I’d always found praying kind of tedious, but I started praying constantly to the Lord for help.
One day while reading the scriptures, I came across Mosiah 18:9, which says we should “comfort those that stand in need of comfort.” I realized that I needed not only to apologize but also to try to comfort her and show more interest in our friendship. Doing things my way wasn’t working. I needed more compassion and humility.
The Lord provided the right moment for me to apologize. I went with my mother to take my siblings to a stake Primary activity, and I found my friend there with her family. I asked the Lord to help and inspire me so I could talk to her, and I was able to apologize.
Today, we’re great friends. We joke a lot, set goals together, and consider ourselves like siblings. Liking someone doesn’t always mean being in love with them. Sometimes, you just appreciate their good qualities and enjoy being with them.
I know the Lord helped me, because if it were up to me, I wouldn’t have succeeded. I might have spoken differently or exaggerated my apologies, and it wouldn’t have worked out. I needed someone more than myself.
That’s where asking God comes in. Many times, I don’t ask for help and try to do everything on my own. But we’re not alone, right? We always have God by our side.
God blesses me, not always with what I want, but always with what I need. During the six months my friend and I weren’t talking, I needed to learn how to receive personal revelation and listen to the Holy Ghost. Now I find it easy to pray, because I enjoy conversing with my Heavenly Father.

Three years later I went to Rome, Italy, to visit my uncle. He kept telling me about this church he went to. One Sunday, he took me with him. I will always remember walking toward the church’s doors for the first time and feeling the love of Heavenly Father when I went in. It felt like home.

I started going to church every single Sunday and to every activity during the week. I loved being with the youth of the Church. They made me happier. They thought and believed in the same things that I did. Then, after three months, my summer holiday finished and I had to go back to Albania.

When I returned home, I told my dad about the feelings I had had and how happy I had felt during all that time. He didn’t like it. He told me he wouldn’t allow me to continue to go to church or learn more about it. So I would have to be patient for the next three years until I turned 18 years old. Then I could decide for myself and get baptized.

During this time I was blessed with so many people who would tell me about what they learned each Sunday at church. One of those people was Stephanie. She had been living in Italy when my uncle joined the Church, but she had returned to her home in the United States. My uncle thought it would be good for us to write to each other, so I added her as a friend on Facebook.

Even though we had never met in person, I will always be grateful to her for helping me build my faith and learn more about the gospel of Jesus Christ. She wrote to me almost every Sunday and told me everything she learned in church and then would answer my questions. She was a great friend to me.

Finally, after years of being patient, I was baptized just two days after my 18th birthday. And soon I will share with my mother the happiness I felt that day, because I will be baptized for her. I know she will be proud of the life I have chosen.

I feel blessed by Heavenly Father because He was with me during my entire journey in so many ways. I just had to wait and be patient because He had a plan for me. He’s the one who gave me strength to go through all the challenges I faced. He was always there, helping me be happier.

Now, those island people who know and understand the covenants of the Lord and the Restoration of the gospel, as they liken the scriptures to themselves, surmise that Hawaiikiroa, the common ancestor, was actually Hagoth.
This is fascinating to me. The ancient history is not just lost away and forgotten but remembered in the traditions of Polynesian cultures
Hawaiikiroa is depicted in the center carving of the koruru, and the warrior depicted on top of the koruru is called the tekoteko. The depiction is of Maui-kai-ariki, the son of Hawaiikiroa and the father of the Maori people.
What is incredible to me as I ponder the meaning is that everything in the Maori whare depicts the ancestors of the tribe. Each figure represents the linage of ancestors, from the oldest in the back to the most recent in the front entrance of the whare.
The third experience that connects all these things together happened to a small-in-stature, much skinnier, palagi missionary with a full head of hair back then in February of 1976. President Spencer W. Kimball and his counselor N. Eldon Tanner and several other general authorities traveled though the South Pacific and held area conferences everywhere they went. They spoke to 1,000 saints in American Samoa on the 17th of February and then traveled to Western Samoa and over three days participated in traditional ceremonies, met with government officials, and held meetings. On the second day, they met with missionaries. President Kimball was getting a cold, so he didn’t meet with the missionaries, President Tanner presided and instructed at that meeting.

And then on the 19th of February, 15,000 Samoan saints gathered in a day of meetings, morning and afternoon sessions.

President Kimball was the concluding speaker. As I recall it, Lafi Toelupe was translating for President Kimball. President Kimball ended his talk five minutes before the hour, and Brother Toelupe turned to him and said, “President you still have five minutes,” and with that, President Kimball turned to Alma 63 and read these verses: “And it came to pass that Hagoth, he being an exceedingly curious man, therefore he went forth and built him an exceedingly large ship, on the borders of the land Bountiful, by the land Desolation, and launched it forth into the west sea, by the narrow neck which led into the land northward. And behold, there were many of the Nephites who did enter therein and did sail forth with much provisions, and also many women and children; and they took their course northward. And thus ended the thirty and seventh year. And in the thirty and eighth year, this man built other ships. And the first ship did also return, and many more people did enter into it; and they also took much provisions, and set out again to the land northward. And it came to pass that they were never heard of more” (Alma 63:5-8).

President Kimball then said that “the Polynesian people are descended from the Nephite Hagoth.”

President Kimball was reiterating the same things that were said by Elder George Q. Cannon. who served his mission in Hawaii from 1850 to 1854 and later served as counselor to four presidents of the Church. The same statements were made by President Joseph F. Smith who served his mission in Hawaii at the age of 15 in the 1850’s and again lived in Hawaii from 1885 to 1887 and became president of the Church. He visited Hawaii several other times, having a great impact on the saints in Hawaii and especially here in Laie, including dedicating the site for the temple so near us today.

President Kimball told the Samoan saints that “they needed to play an important part in the gathering of Israel.”

When I turned 18 and had graduated high school, I had an experience that strengthened my testimony of the Lord guiding me with His hand. I had also just graduated from seminary and was a little excited that I didn’t have to wake up early in the morning anymore. My bishop called me to his office and extended a calling for me to be an early-morning seminary teacher. I remember telling the bishop that I was too young for such a calling, I would be teaching my church friends that were almost my age. I felt inadequate, but I accepted the calling to serve. That meant I would have to wake up at 4:30 in the morning, prepare my lesson, and pick up some youth for seminary because they lived far from the chapel.

During that same time, one of the airlines in Brazil was hiring, and I wanted to apply so I could have the benefits to travel the world. Again, I was 18 and I had never stepped foot on an airplane before. One of the requirements for the job was to speak fluent English, and my English was not that great; it was really bad. I had never taken any classes besides the basic English classes in high school. There was no Duolingo or EnglishConnect at that time, but someone gave me some cassette tapes for a course to learn English.

As I prepared for the job interview and English tests required for the job, I would listen to those tapes all day long on my headphones and even in my sleep. I was determined I could learn something in my sleep. I remember praying to Heavenly Father to help me to learn the language so I could pass the written and listening tests and the face-to-face interview in English.

I decided I wasn’t going to apply to be a flight attendant because of the difficult work schedule, but instead I applied for an eight-to-five job at the airline’s ticket office so I could continue teaching seminary and attending college to continue my studies. Somehow, by some amazing miracle, I passed the test after studying for only a couple of weeks, and I was able to answer all the questions and hold a conversation in English during my face-to-face interview.

I got the job at the airline and started working there immediately after high school. This job would later have a great impact on my life. I worked full time at the airline during the day and attended industrial design classes at night. But after one semester, I realized that waking at 4:30 a.m. to teach seminary and getting home after midnight by city bus after my university classes wasn’t sustainable. Financially, this arrangement was also very hard because what I made working full-time was barely enough to pay for my college tuition. I was burned out, and I had to make a decision.

I had to either stop teaching seminary or quit school. Again, I offered a sincere prayer and asked Heavenly Father for His help and guidance. Going to college was one of my dreams, but I had a strong impression that I had to quit school so I could continue teaching seminary and working full-time.

I have experienced these compensating blessings throughout my life, but especially while working for the airline. It gave me the opportunity to travel to many countries. Some of my favorite places to visit were Asia and the Pacific. These travels, that I normally did on my own, allowed me to meet amazing people. They also allowed me to learn about so many cultures and traditions, especially in the Polynesian Islands, and I developed a tremendous love for these places. One of the very first trips I took was coming to Hawaii. I was so impressed by the incredible people I met here, and I remember driving through the North Shore and seeing the beautiful Laie Hawaii Temple. I was so fascinated and remember thinking that one day I would like to get married in this temple. I went to the temple distribution center to buy some temple clothes, and the worker there was a very nice lady. She found out it was my first time in Hawaii, and she told me I must go visit the BYU–Hawaii campus and the Polynesian Cultural Center. I knew about BYU in Provo, but I had no idea there was such a thing as BYU–Hawaii, and I had never heard about the Polynesian Culture Center. She told me her son worked at PCC, and he would get me discounted employee tickets to go. I met the incredible students working at the PCC and saw the bright light they had in their eyes and smiles. I knew for sure that this was a special place.

Then I came to BYU–Hawaii and I felt something different. I felt such a special spirit on this campus. I had a strong impression that I needed to come back to attend school here.

I knew that my parents couldn’t help me financially to go to school at BYU–Hawaii, but I went back home and worked at the airlines for five years, saving up as much as I could with the hope I could come back someday and attend school here. I also continued to teaching seminary classes for those five years, and I have to say that I never felt as close to Heavenly Father and to my Savior as I felt during those years that I prayed and studied the scriptures in depth to teach my friends at seminary.

After five years of saving money to come to school at BYU–Hawaii, I quit my job at the airlines and used my last standby ticket to come to school here. I also brought my younger sister with me to school, and we worked together as tour guides at the PCC until she left for her mission.

On my way here, I went to Utah to prepare and to take the TOEFL English proficiency test, which was one of the things I was missing for my college application. It was there that I met my eternal companion, and he followed me here. After two years of dating, we were married in the Laie Hawaii temple. After I graduated, he started his studies and also graduated from BYU–Hawaii. Now my two older kids are also students at BYU–Hawaii. One is on his mission in Brazil at the moment, but he will be back this Fall.

When I look back, brothers and sisters, I recognize these miracles, I see the Lord's Hands in my life. I know He was blessing me by getting that job that would literally bring me here and would help finance my education, helping me to learn English, and preparing me spiritually by teaching seminary and strengthening my testimony of the gospel and of my dear Savior Jesus Christ.

Brother Braden’s involvement in important family events isn’t just because he wants to be involved. During the fast and testimony meeting when our oldest daughter, Jane, was to be confirmed, she restlessly searched the congregation for him, not satisfied—even though she was surrounded by her own family—until she saw Brother Braden come in late from another meeting and take the seat nearest to the back door. She knew that he had given up other plans to be with her and that he was glad to do so. When Jane’s name was called, she walked down the aisle to Brother Braden, and the two of them came hand in hand to the circle where she would be confirmed to share one of the most important moments of her life.

We were free! We’d had a hard week of classes and felt like we deserved a break. It was a beautiful winter evening in Rock Canyon, and we were determined to enjoy it to the fullest.
Four of us had decided on a whim to get away from the pressures of college life by taking an excursion in the snow. It would be our first camp-out without any adviser or leader. We felt pretty independent. Our friends were surprised at our plans in light of all the snow that had fallen that weekend. We ignored them when they said we were crazy.
Jared and Derek had nearly finished the snow cave, our home for the night. We were actually doing it! Without any help from adults, or anyone else, we were making it work.
After cooking some hot dogs and having a long animated talk around the fire, we were ready to retire. I went in first. It seemed a bit crowded, and I wondered how we would fit four people into the cave. Pete and Jared followed. Derek was next.
Just as Derek was almost all the way in, the cave collapsed on us! I wasn’t sure what had happened since I was lying on my side facing the wall.
Luckily, the part of the cave that was above my head and chest hadn’t caved in. Pete wasn’t as lucky. Heavy snow was on his chest. I could tell that he was having trouble breathing. Peter’s voice let me know that the snow hadn’t covered his face.
None of us could do much since our bodies were pinned down. We were stuck. Every time we tried to move around, the ceiling would shift a bit. Every time this happened, I would ask Peter if he was still all right. The snow ceiling was getting closer and closer to his face. There was nothing that any of us could do. We were trapped!
Peter was the one who thought of it first. We needed to pray. We told our Father in Heaven that we needed his help. We couldn’t make it alone.
After praying, Jared looked up at the ceiling. He noticed something he hadn’t noticed before, a small opening. He had to struggle, but he eventually got his arm out of his bag so he could reach for the hole. He scraped snow from off of the collapsed ceiling and threw it out the opening. His hands were numb by the time he had freed himself.
Once Jared was out, he dug Derek out using the small shovel we had left outside the cave. Derek got to work getting Peter out while Jared warmed his freezing hands. With Peter free, I was the only one left in the cave with my legs still pinned down. The cave was no longer hanging over my head, so I felt practically free.
Someone suggested that we each say a prayer of thanksgiving. There, next to the collapsed snow cave, we thanked Father in Heaven and acknowledged that we couldn’t have made it without his help.
I learned an important lesson from that experience. Even though I seek independence, I don’t ever want to be independent of my Father in Heaven. Without his patient care, I might not be here today. I learned I always need his help and guiding hand.

For Loralee, an 18-year-old from South Jordan, Utah, SOS began as a question: What can we do to show the world that teenagers are good? She was tired of all the negative attention teenagers were getting—especially in the media. So she decided to do something about it. During her junior year at Bingham High School, Loralee started thinking of ways young people could do something positive for the community. She came up with the idea of organizing students from around Salt Lake into service teams, one at each participating school. Schools Offering Service, or SOS, would be a huge volunteer force of students working together to serve.
“People need to know that kids are good, that they are involved in positive things,” Loralee says. “I wanted a service club in my school, so I just decided, ‘Let’s make this work.’”
But for all her enthusiasm, Loralee had a hard time getting SOS started. When she began suggesting the idea her junior year, her student government leaders wondered if she could make it work. “A lot of people said it was too big of a thing to take on,” she says.
Discouraged, Loralee put her ideas for SOS on hold. She turned her attention back to student government—she was junior class secretary—and to applying to colleges. Later that year, however, she was elected vice president of the Utah Association of Student Councils. Now she had the resources and the contacts to make SOS work.
Armed with posters and fliers, Loralee went from school to school recruiting volunteers. “I’d go to the school to tell people about SOS and get them signed up and into teams,” she says. Each school’s team would do monthly service projects like visiting retirement homes and reading to the blind.
For example, students from Copper Hills High School, a school located in a Salt Lake suburb, organized a Christmas talent show for South Valley Care Center. After performing, they decorated the care center for the elderly with handmade ornaments and handed out candy canes. Tiffany Tolbert helped coordinate Copper Hills High School’s SOS projects. She says SOS has helped her make new friends and learn to lead. Most of all, it has given her a chance to help people. “I really enjoy doing service because I want to make a difference,” she says.
And as if monthly service projects weren’t enough, twice a year SOS teams from each school combined for regional service projects like feeding the homeless.
More than 300 people joined SOS during its first year. For regional projects volunteers collected clothing, blankets, and more than 2,000 pounds of food for the homeless. They also prepared kits with brightly colored school supplies and collected teddy bears to send to developing countries. And, in only a year, SOS spread to 25 schools in the Salt Lake area. For her work with SOS, an insurance company awarded Loralee its 1999 Spirit of Community Award. Salt Lake County commissioners declared February 10 “Loralee Anderson Community Service Day.”
But Loralee insists that you don’t have to be in something like SOS to make a difference. “You don’t have to do a huge 24-hour service project to make an impact on someone’s life. The small acts of kindness, a kind word, a smile—those small acts are what count,” she says.
Small acts of service like smiling are what Loralee is known for. “She has always loved people and cared about people; she has real compassion,” says Loralee’s mother, Sandra Anderson.
In addition to Loralee’s work with SOS, she has volunteered with special-needs children and worked with Peer Leadership, a statewide organization that teaches youth to say no to drugs. She also has held many student government positions and has served as president of her Laurel class.
Loralee says she just wants to follow the Savior’s example. She says her love of the gospel deepens as she serves. “For some reason, when you are serving, humility comes upon you. You can show Heavenly Father that you love Him. My testimony has grown so much through service,” she says.
Now a freshman at BYU, Loralee is considering majoring in, what else, youth leadership. She wants to inspire youth to focus on what they each can do to make the world better. “I think people underestimate the power they can have. Individual deeds do impact lives,” she says. “The youth are going to take the world by storm.” A storm of service, that is.

One day I biked home from school. As I got closer to my house, I saw my mom holding our new puppy. I was excited to see them, so I quickly pushed myself off my bike. All of a sudden, I heard a big pop! Pain shot through my right arm. I could barely lift it up.
My mom drove me to the hospital. When we arrived, the doctor took an X-ray of my arm. He told us that I had a cyst in my bone. I didn’t know what that was, so he explained. “A bone cyst is when part of the bone is hollow and filled with fluid,” the doctor said. “That’s why it was so easy to break.”
The doctor said that I might need to have surgery. That sounded scary. He told us that he would see us in a few weeks to decide if I needed surgery or not. Until then, I would need to wear a sling for my arm. On the way back home, I kept saying prayers in my head. Heavenly Father, please help me be brave. This is really scary. Please help me be confident.
A month later, I had a doctor’s appointment to see if I needed surgery. I was still scared. The Friend magazine had just come out for the month, and I started to read it. The Matt and Mandy comic was about how Matt broke his arm (Oct. 2019). He had to have surgery. Just like me!
After I read it, I felt peace. I said a prayer thanking Heavenly Father for answering my prayer. I knew I could be brave no matter what happened. I also thanked Heavenly Father for always listening to me and being there for me, like a true friend.

The name of Asael Smith connotes honesty and responsibility. He in turn was the son of Samuel Smith, an influential man in Topsfield, Massachusetts, who exercised local leadership through the Revolutionary War. Samuel’s oldest son (another Samuel) had priority of inheritance of his father’s land, so Asael, the second son, learned a trade and purchased a farm in Derryfield (now Manchester), New Hampshire. There he was town clerk for seven years, and his handwriting can be easily seen in the microfilm of his town record book, which includes the personal notations of the births of most of his children. Asael faced crossroads at the death of his father, taking the path of personal sacrifice. Everyone ultimately faces such crossroads, and many apparent sacrifices are disguised opportunities for personal development through serving others. In Asael’s case, his brother came from Massachusetts to explain that the obligations against his father’s estate exceeded the assets, so he recommended settling the debts on a percentage basis. But Asael said simply that he would not allow his father’s name to go down as that of an insolvent debtor. So he and his brother exchanged farms, and Asael moved to Topsfield to attempt the impossible. The postwar depression decreed minimal profits on farming, but for seven years he applied his total resources to supporting his large family and reducing the debts of his father. Finally he sold the land to satisfy every creditor, and moved to Vermont with just about $100, enough to buy timbered land there and start over in a log cabin.

Listening among the television audience to his very first talk as a General Authority was President Faust’s widowed mother; she wept with joy over the call that had come to her son. Not only was there fine parental training, but important training was given, too, by pioneer and convert grandparents. For instance, Grandmother Faust told young Jim stories of her having heard Brigham Young speak in the Tabernacle. Decades earlier, President Faust’s great-grandfather, a young German emigrant going through Utah on his way to the California gold rush, met a young lady in Fillmore. He was so attracted to her that he later panned just enough gold to pay for a wedding ring and then hastened back to marry her and later join the Church!

Dressed in 19th century clothing, pushing and pulling handcarts, leaving home comforts and technology behind, a group of teenagers in Tasmania recently took part in a trek.
The purpose of the activity—organised by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints—was to help each young person feel—even in small measure—what the early pioneers of their faith experienced when they travelled across the plains of North America.
A trek reminds members of the sacrifices and lessons learned by the Church’s 19th century converts as they travelled from America’s Midwest to the Salt Lake Valley. For these youth, it also helped them remember the history of the Church in Tasmania.
In 1854 the first members of the Church in Tasmania were baptized in a small creek in Glen Huon. During the trek the group stopped at the creek to acknowledge the sacrifices made by those who came before them.
Rachael Sayers, one of the trek organisers, described the experience this way: “Imagine this scenario: Over 80 teenagers gather together for four days, all having a desire to work together in groups that are not of their choice, walking over widely varied terrain, through mud and puddles, up and down rocky, slippery hills, working in unity, serving each other, giving their time, sweat, and energy, sharing their faith and testimonies, and without a comfortable place to sleep, without jealousies, without murmurings, without conflicts. Sounds hard to imagine, doesn’t it?”
One young participant, Emma, said, “I have a deeper appreciation for the strength of youth and what they can achieve when they are united and pushed out of their comfort zone.”
Another organiser, Steve King, said, “It is difficult to describe the energy and teamwork that shone forth as the youth and leaders became one in purpose and moved out as a body to take on the arduous journey.”
According to one youth leader, small miracles are not unusual on trek, as it is designed to build faith through sacrifice, courage, and sheer hard work. Those who participated in the Tasmania trek learned who they really are. They are modern-day pioneers facing challenges with determination, faith, and love.

Certainly President Spencer W. Kimball was not ambitious to be President of the Church, but when the call came, unexpected as it may have been, he was ready. He never slipped off his shoes while the game was still on—not ever.
Let me cite just one example of that preparation which started many years ago, when President Kimball was the age of many of you. When he was 14 years old, a Church leader visited a conference of the stake over which his father presided and told the congregation that they should read the scriptures.
President Kimball, in recalling that experience, said: “I recognized that I had never read the Bible, [so] that very night at the conclusion of that very sermon I walked to my home a block away and climbed up in my little attic room in the top of the house and lighted a little coal-oil lamp that was on the little table, and I read the first chapters of Genesis. A year later I closed the Bible, having read every chapter in that big and glorious book. … It was formidable, but I knew if others did it that I could do it.
“I found,” said President Kimball, “that there were certain parts that were hard for a 14-year-old boy to understand. There were some pages that were not especially interesting to me, but when I had read the 66 books and the 1,189 chapters and 1,519 pages, I had a glowing satisfaction that I had made a goal and that I had achieved it.
“Now I am not telling you this story to boast,” President Kimball concluded, “I am merely using this as an example to say that if I could do it by coal-oil light, you can do it by electric light. I have always been glad I read the Bible from cover to cover” (Ensign, May 1974, 88). In this and a thousand other ways, young Spencer Woolley Kimball silently and efficiently prepared, never dreaming of what lay ahead.