Gospel Story Finder

I recently heard Jenny’s story. She is a returned missionary whose parents divorced while she was serving her mission. She told how the thought of returning home “scared [her] to death.” But at the end of her mission to Italy, as she stopped in the mission home on her way home to the United States, a certain woman, the mission president’s wife, tenderly ministered to her simply by brushing her hair.
Years later, another certain woman, Terry—a stake Relief Society president and disciple of Jesus Christ—blessed Jenny’s life when Jenny was called as a ward Relief Society president. At that time, Jenny was working on her dissertation for her doctoral degree. Not only did Terry serve as a mentor to Jenny as a leader, but she also sat with her for 10 hours at the hospital when Jenny received the alarming diagnosis of leukemia. Terry visited the hospital and drove Jenny to appointments. Jenny confessed, “I think I may have thrown up several times in her car.”
Despite her illness, Jenny continued to serve valiantly as the ward Relief Society president. Even in her extremity, she made phone calls and sent texts and emails from her bed, and she invited sisters to come see her. She mailed cards and notes to people, loving her sisters from a distance. When her ward requested a photograph of her presidency for their ward history, this is what they got. Because Jenny is a certain woman herself, she invited all to share others’ burdens, including her own.
As a certain woman, Jenny testified: “Not only are we here to save others but to save ourselves. And that salvation comes from partnering with Jesus Christ, from understanding His grace and His Atonement and His feelings of love for the women of the Church. That happens through things as simple as brushing someone’s hair; sending a note with an inspired, clear, revelatory message of hope and grace; or allowing women to serve us.”

Having recrossed the river to Nauvoo that last Sunday, June 23, Joseph sent a letter to the governor in Carthage promising to be there the next day. To meet the governor’s deadline they would have to leave very early—a 6:00 a.m. departure at the latest, and they had had no sleep for two nights.

There are little moments in those last hours that are significant and poignantly memorable. I mention only a few.

After the two brothers returned to surrender state arms as ordered by the governor, Leonora Taylor was in the Smith home when the Prophet went again to say goodbye. He pleaded with Emma on that occasion to go with him, even though she did not want to risk getting the ague, chills, and fevers. She was also expecting a child (four months pregnant) and not feeling well. He begged her to come anyway. She said no. And as he turned away, he said, “Well, if they don’t hang me I don’t care how they kill me.”

It seems likely that Willard Richards overheard that statement and that that is why, in the last moments, he offered—and he meant it—to be hanged in the Prophet’s stead. The Prophet’s statement also tells us that he hadn’t yet been made to know exactly how he would die. There had been threats, one of them published in the newspaper, that his enemies would, as the letter said, “make catfish meat of him.”

There was a moment with Daniel H. Wells, not yet a member of the Church, who was on a sickbed. The Prophet, not feeling well himself, stopped to see him. “Squire Wells, I wish you to cherish my memory, and not think me the worst man in the world either.” Daniel H. Wells had to give up his family in order to join the Church later. He could never speak of that last encounter with Joseph without deep feeling, and he became one of our great ones.

Mary Ellen Kimball overheard the Prophet say, as the group stopped to ask for a drink of water on the way to Carthage that morning, “Brother Rosenkranz, if I never see you again, or if I never come back, remember that I love you.” She felt that to her soul, and fled and wept on her bed.

And then there was the pause the group made at the temple, where the Prophet lovingly surveyed that building, the city, the landscape, and then said: “This is the loveliest place and the best people under the heavens; little do they know the trials that await them.”

Our family has experienced this type of challenge. My brother was recently diagnosed last year with MDS myelodysplastic syndrome, which is a type of blood cancer. My brother Wayne, like myself, was an alumni here BYUH and he too worked at the Polynesian Cultural Center in the night show and in reservations with President Grace. They looked a bit younger back then. He is the assistant rugby coach for the BYU Provo rugby team and he's very involved with a lot of the Polynesian YSA living in Utah. With his illness the marrow in his bones are unable to produce immature blood cells that mature into the essential blood cells that he needs. As a result he requires regular blood transfusions and he also undergoes regular chemotherapy treatments.

Last week my brother completed biopsy testing in preparation for a bone marrow transplant from my other brother Jayson, who is also an alumni of BYUH. Our family has a lot of love for this campus and for the Polynesian Cultural Center. I asked him what does he do to conquer the daily challenge of living with such an illness. He said firstly he is able to handle such a challenge because of his loving, supportive wife and his two beautiful daughters. In other words surrounding himself with the right people to conquer his challenge. He said he is motivated to see them progress in their lives and get married and have families of their own.This past Christmas my brother and his family visited my parents and I here in Laie. It was interesting. The whole time that he was here in Laie, he functioned so well. The moment they went back to cold Utah, he struggled. I told him that it was the Spirit of the community of Laie. Two of the highlights of his trip were getting to see my parents work in the New Zealand village at the Polynesian Cultural Center and being able to shake hands and visit for a short time with President and Sister Uchtdorf. President Uchtdorf and his wife had been made aware of Wayne’s illness and both said they would pray for him and his family.

Since returning back to Utah, Wayne received a personal letter from President Uchtdorf saying that he would write his name on the Temple prayer roll. Having that experience was just what Wayne needed to undergo his final stages of biopsy testing. My brother is also very diligent and hardworking about taking care of himself consistently by even wearing a mask when is immune system is weak even when it's not an obvious fashion statement. Another thing that Wayne said helps him with his challenge is continuous service despite his circumstances. He told me that there were other people in worse situations that him, which helped him to continue to serve in his ward, with the rugby team, and even looks for opportunities to help others. I deeply admire my brother and the steps he takes daily to conquer his “One Tree Hill”.

Once I was asked to meet an older couple returning to the Church. They had been taught the gospel by their parents. After their marriage, they left the Church. Now, 50 years later, they were returning. I remember the husband coming into the office pulling an oxygen tank. They expressed regret at not having remained faithful. I told them of our happiness because of their return, assuring them of the Lord’s welcoming arms to those who repent. The elderly man responded, “We know this, Brother Andersen. But our sadness is that our children and grandchildren do not have the blessings of the gospel. We are back, but we are back alone.”

One Sunday after sacrament meeting, the children and we teachers were to go directly to our classrooms instead of meeting first in the Primary room. When I got to my classroom, I realized that I had left my teaching materials in the Primary room. I told my class to sit down, that I would be right back. Before I hurried away, I said, “Be quiet now!”
When I returned, the classroom seemed unusually quiet. I slowly opened the door and peeked inside. My students were all kneeling, their arms folded and heads bowed, quietly waiting for me to return to have class prayer.
I want to say thank you to my class! You are all really trying to do what Jesus Christ would want you to do.

Rebecca Rosanne couldn’t stop following things. She followed the big brown garbage truck as it crawled like a giant beetle from dumpster to dumpster in the apartment complex where she lived.
She followed the gardener on his riding lawn mower. And she followed the letter carrier in his little white jeep with the red and blue stripes. But every time Rebecca Rosanne followed something, she followed it so far that she got lost.
“Rebecca Rosanne,” her mother would say, “when will you stop following everything that moves!”
Rebecca Rosanne would hang her head. She never meant to get lost by following things. But she was curious about trucks and jeeps and lawn mowers. She was curious about the letter carrier’s bag of mail.
One day Rebecca Rosanne was digging in the sandbox when a strange bus drove into her neighborhood. It wasn’t orange like the bus the older children rode to school. It was green and black.
Rebecca Rosanne was curious. She ran to the parking lot, where the bus had stopped. People lined up to climb the three tall steps into the bus. So did Rebecca Rosanne. When she looked inside, she was surprised. Instead of seats on this bus, there were shelves of books. She followed a boy to the back, where there were some picture books on a rack.
Rebecca Rosanne pulled out a book and sat down on the steps that led to the back door of the bus. She smiled when she turned to the first page. There was a picture of a letter carrier beside a white jeep with red and blue stripes. A picture on another page showed where the letter carrier got the mail.
Then Rebecca Rosanne found a bigger book about trucks. She was so busy looking at this book that she didn’t notice the other people leave the bus. She didn’t hear the driver close the front door and start the engine. Before Rebecca Rosanne knew what was happening, the bus full of books was gently swaying as it drove out of the parking lot.
When it stops at the next apartment building, I’ll get off, thought Rebecca Rosanne.
But the bus didn’t stop at the next apartment building. Instead, it drove onto the main highway and headed downtown. Rebecca Rosanne was scared. She had never followed anything that far before. Her stomach felt as if she’d swallowed a bowlful of cold, wiggly worms.
Finally the bus pulled into a driveway behind a red brick building and stopped. Rebecca Rosanne heard the driver walking toward the back of the bus. When the driver saw her, he said in a kind voice, “Well, it looks like somebody hitched a ride on the bookmobile.” He bent down and asked, “What’s your name?”
Rebecca Rosanne was still scared, but she told the driver her name.
“Well, Rebecca Rosanne, climb off the bookmobile while I lock up. Then we’ll go into the library and call your mother.”
While she waited, Rebecca Rosanne said to herself several times the word bookmobile. She thought that a bus full of books was even better than a garbage truck.
And when Rebecca Rosanne saw what was inside the red brick building the driver had called the library, she was even more pleased. Books were everywhere!
A woman behind a high counter smiled kindly, then said softly, “This must be Rebecca Rosanne. Your mother just called. A neighbor told her that she’d seen you climbing into the bookmobile. I’ll call your mother and tell her that you’re here.”
The driver led Rebecca Rosanne to a room with tables and chairs just her size. “You can wait for your mother here,” he said.
Rebecca Rosanne looked at a book about trains until her mother came. “Hey, Mom,” she shouted, “a book on the bookmobile showed me where letter carriers get their mail. And this one is about trains!”
When Rebecca Rosanne’s mother saw how excited her daughter was about the books, she helped Rebecca Rosanne borrow some from the library.
One day when they were looking at a book, Rebecca Rosanne said, “I haven’t gotten lost for a long time, have I, Mom?”
“No, not since you stopped following everything that moves and started following books,” she said, giving Rebecca Rosanne a big hug.

Consider this letter from one lovely young woman:
“I’m writing this,” she said, “from the depths of a broken heart, in the hope that it may be a warning to other girls never to partake of the bitterness that has come to me. I would give all that I have or ever hope to have if I could go back to those happy, carefree days before the first little taint of sin came upon my heart. I scarcely realized I was slipping into something that could bring such sorrow and ruin into a person’s life.
“I wish I could reveal to you the anguish and regret that fill my heart today, the loss of self-respect and the realization that life’s most priceless gift has slipped away from me. I reached out too eagerly for the excitements and thrills of life, and they have turned to ashes in my hands.”
This young woman, unfortunately, discovered that the heaviest burden one may have to bear in this life is “the burden of sin.” (Harold B. Lee, “Stand Ye in Holy Places,” Ensign, July 1973, p. 122.)

When I was investigating the Church, I remember the missionaries teaching me about the importance of partaking of the sacrament after being baptized. This helped me to remember the covenant I chose to enter. I was baptized on Dec. 6, 1988. I will always remember the Sunday that followed because I was then able to partake of the sacrament. I felt joy, simple and sweet joy, peace, and confidence. I felt that I was completely part of this special meeting. My Sundays became different because of being able to come to the table of the Lord. I felt empowered by the covenant and received the promised Spirit of the Lord to start and handle the coming week.
Thirty-five years have passed since then and I think that I rarely missed a sacrament, always making it a commitment to come to sacrament meeting and partake of this special supper.

My whole life I have read about people receiving answers to their prayers, and felt left out and different. It seemed as if everybody always got their prayers answered but me—until I had an experience that changed the way I feel about prayers being answered.
My seminary teacher had assigned us to write a letter to someone in the class about how important it is to read the Book of Mormon. That evening my sister and I were in our room, and I was trying to think of something to write. My sister was on her bed listening to the radio. She suggested that I could write Doctrine and Covenants 1:37 in my own words. I tried, but I was still having trouble. She asked if I wanted her to turn off the radio and go out of the room so that I could say a prayer. I said yes, so she turned off the radio and went out.
I knelt down and, instead of praying in my mind like I normally do, I said the prayer out loud. I think it is one of the most sincere prayers I have ever given in my life.
I asked Heavenly Father to help me know what to write and to be able to have the Spirit with me while I was writing the letter. When I was through with the prayer, I could feel the Spirit very strongly and decided to follow my sister’s advice and write Doctrine and Covenants 1:37 [D&C 1:37] in my own words. After I finished writing I decided to look for more scriptures. As I was looking, Doctrine and Covenants 6:15 [D&C 6:15] caught my eye:
“Behold, thou knowest that thou hast inquired of me and I did enlighten thy mind; and now I tell thee these things that thou mayest know that thou hast been enlightened by the Spirit of truth.”
I couldn’t believe it! I felt like that scripture was a confirmation of the guidance I had been given by the Spirit to write my letter. Through the scriptures, I had not only received an answer, but I had also been able to recognize it.

And then there is the description of Heber C. Kimball, the grandfather of our present leader. His biographer, Orson F. Whitney, says of him that “prayers are rarely heard as were heard to issue from the heart and lips of this man.” I was curious why. What did he do differently? Well, I found out. There was first of all a sense of dedication in his home. The home is the second most sacred place in the Church—the first being the temple. (President Lee recently instructed that if you’re not going to be married in the temple, the next best place is home.) They understood that. They dedicated their homes; they dedicated, at times, a room—he did—a special room for prayer. He knew what it was to kneel in silence for a time, to ruminate, to meditate, to recover something of the light in the scriptures and in himself. And then to pray.

He constantly taught his family, and by example demonstrated, that the way to pray is to let out what is really in. For example, he says in a discourse, “When I am angry, the first thing I do is pray. And I am never so angry but what I can’t.” Well, I was taught the exact opposite. If you’re angry you straighten things out, you count to ten, soak your head in a bucket, and when things are all even and you’re composed, then you pray. No. The first thing he did was pray. What, you might ask me, would he say? I don’t know. I can only imagine. But he let it out honestly, openly, in the words that were appropriate. “I’m so angry,” he might have said, “I could spit.” If that’s the way it was, then that’s the way to say it. And there came a return wave, for the Lord honors you when you level, when you stop praying from the neck up and begin praying from way inside, trusting the Spirit to take even the ineptitudes and translate them perfectly, trusting the Lord to know and daring even to voice those particular feelings about which you are most anxious and even guilty, including the prayer which he occasionally offered: “Father in heaven, I just don’t feel like praying.” That’s an honest and powerful prayer. I recommend it.

And then there is the example, lest you suppose there are certain things out of bounds entirely, when he in fact was praying with the family and laughed in the middle. Having named a brother, he burst out laughing. As I have told my wife, I can picture three solutions to that: He might have arisen, left the room with his hand over his mouth, and let his wife pick up the pieces. That’s what I would have done. He could have delivered a very solemn 21/2-minute talk on why we never ever permit a smile in prayer. Or he could have done what he did do. There was a slight pause, and then he said, “I’m sorry, Lord, but I just can’t help laughing when I think about Brother Brown.” And then he went on with his prayer.

Friends not of our faith would say of this, “Blasphemy.” I testify to you, “Beautiful.” Do you think it is a secret to the Lord that you have a funny bone? Do you think that there is wisdom in hiding? And brothers and sisters, be honest. When you testify that the Lord knows your thoughts and feelings, do you believe it? If you were speaking to a loved earthly father and you were in serious trouble, really serious—maybe tragic trouble—but in the middle of the recital if you burst into laughter, maybe a little half-hysterical, would he not understand? Yes, we’re warned against lightmindedness. But what is that? The betrayal, I suggest to you, of sacred things—making light of, ridiculing. That, always and everywhere will deny you the privileges of the Spirit of the Lord. You will be left to yourself if you indulge that kind of lightmindedness. But the Lord nowhere condemns lightheartedness. He commands it. He says that we’re to have “a glad heart and a cheerful countenance” (D&C 59:15) even on fast Sunday when our heads ache and we’re hungry. And he wants us, both in sorrow and in joy, to have the resilient kind of response that humor makes possible. Sometimes life is so ridiculous there is nothing else to do—except laugh.

Thank God we have examples of this in our midst. I wish there were time to mention several, but I’ll just name one. Dear President Brown was walking down an aisle recently in a chapel. Up came a little white-haired sister who burst out, “Oh, President Brown, I’ve always wanted you to speak at my funeral.”

With his eyes twinkling, he said, “Sister, if you want me to speak at your funeral, you’d better hurry.” The children of God are lighthearted. Don’t take yourself so seriously, a friend said to me, that when you walk down the street people look at you and say, “Three cheers for sin.”

During the final months of our mission last year, we experienced an event that taught once again this profound principle that each of us is known and loved by God.
Elder Neal A. Maxwell was coming to New York City for some Church business, and we were informed that he would also like to have a mission conference. We were so pleased to have this opportunity to hear from one of the Lord’s chosen servants. I was asked to select one of our missionaries to provide the opening prayer for the meeting. I might have randomly picked one of the missionaries to pray, but felt to ponder and prayerfully select one whom the Lord would have me ask. In going through the missionary roster, a name boldly stood out to me: Elder Joseph Appiah of Accra, Ghana. He was the one I felt the Lord wanted to pray at the meeting.
Prior to the mission conference, I was having a regularly scheduled interview with Elder Appiah and told him of the prompting that I had received for him to pray. With amazement and humility in his eyes, he began to weep deeply. Somewhat surprised by his reaction, I started to tell him that it was all right and he wouldn’t have to pray, when he informed me he would love to offer the prayer, that his emotion was caused by the love he has for Elder Maxwell. He told me that this Apostle is very special to the Saints in Ghana and to his own family. Elder Maxwell had called his father to be the district president in Accra and had sealed his mother and father in the Salt Lake Temple.
Now, I didn’t know any of what I just related about this missionary or his family, but the Lord did and inspired a mission president on behalf of one missionary to provide a lifelong memory and testimony-building experience.
At the meeting, Elder Appiah offered a wonderful prayer and made a humble contribution to a meeting where Elder Maxwell taught the missionaries of the attributes of Jesus Christ. All who were there will never forget the feelings of love they experienced for their Savior.

I struggled with learning a new language in my first area on mission, but one of the single adults, the branch mission leader at the time, was so instrumental in helping us bring the gospel to the doorstep of the townspeople. I won’t forget how he helped us with lesson translations and formed almost instant friendships with our investigators, helping them see and feel, by the power of the Holy Ghost, that they were taking the right step into the Lord’s Church.

When the pandemic hit in 2020, I was one of the first people infected with COVID-19 in my area in Scotland. At first I thought it was a simple cold. But as time went on, my health progressively got worse, until even breathing was a struggle. My throat and sinuses were badly damaged, and I suffered from chronic fatigue.
Recovery was ongoing for over a year and a half, during which time I was unable to participate in any sport or physical activity. I had to put everything on pause. I even dropped out of university for a year, and I became very bitter—bitter about my circumstances and angry at Heavenly Father when recovery seemed unattainable.
Despite my mindset, I continued living the gospel. I continued going to church and doing what I could to help and serve others. Gradually, my state of mind started improving.
When the worst of the symptoms started dissipating, I got an unexpected call to serve on my stake high council. Despite my apprehension, I accepted the call with the hope that the Lord would provide a way for me to fulfil the call despite my poor health (see 1 Nephi 3:7).
One of the first assignments I received was to speak about the Saviour and His Atonement. With every talk I gave to other followers of Jesus Christ, my understanding of Him and what He did for me grew. I realised I’d been ignoring a vital part of His Atonement—the Lord suffered and died not only for our sins but for our afflictions. He knows how to uplift us in our trials (see Alma 7:12).
President Camille N. Johnson, Relief Society General President, recently taught:
“Jesus Christ can lighten our load.
“Jesus Christ can lift our burdens.
“Jesus Christ provides a way for us to be relieved of the weight of sin.
“Jesus Christ is our relief. ...
“… I can’t go at it alone, and I don’t need to, and I won’t. Choosing to be bound to my Savior, Jesus Christ, through the covenants I have made with God, ‘I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me’ [Philippians 4:13].”1
I’m also prone to relying upon my own strength, and in my pride I really had thought I could overcome my trial alone. But I came to realise that I wasn’t failing because the trial was too hard; it was because I wasn’t allowing Jesus Christ to offer me His strength and support.
Finally understanding what He offers me through His healing power changed everything. Although my road to recovery wasn’t going to be easy or quick, I could find peace, joy, and strength along the way by turning to Him.
We don’t have to face any trials alone. We can rely upon our Saviour for strength. I realised that the spiritual hardship I felt during my sickness came from my lack of understanding in my relationship with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ and what strength They could provide me with as I continued to serve, seek, and follow Them.
President Dallin H. Oaks, First Counselor in the First Presidency, gave a powerful reminder of our relationship with the Saviour when he said: “He … knows our struggles, our heartaches, our temptations, and our suffering, for He willingly experienced them all as an essential part of His Atonement. And because of this, His Atonement empowers Him to succor us—to give us the strength to bear it all.”2
Fortunately, the Lord pushed me to be more active in the pursuit of understanding Him. And as I’ve come to understand Him better, I’ve been able to see His hand in my life in greater abundance and see miracles of healing, even if it has taken longer than anticipated. As President Johnson also taught, “Covenant keepers are blessed with the Savior’s relief.”3
Increasing my understanding of the Saviour and keeping my covenants has been a huge blessing in my life. He has given me so much spiritual and temporal relief from my hardships. I can promise that as you strive to do the same, the love of the Lord and your divine purpose will become clear. You’ll find strength beyond your own—as I have.

Little Sarah Palmer ran to meet Joseph when she saw him walking across the clearing toward their home. Propped against his shoulder was a basket made of white oak splints. “Hello, Sarah,” he greeted. “Is your father home?”
“He’s over in the field with the boys. They went out after supper to work till the light is gone. Are you coming to help?” she asked eagerly.
“Not tonight. I’m just delivering this basket. But tell your father we’d be happy to come and help whenever he needs an extra hand. Outside work has been a bit scarce lately.”
“I know why. Pa says it’s because of your vision in the woods,” she stated frankly.
“I’m not surprised. Lately folks have been piling hate on my shoulders. They refuse to believe in visions or revelations in these days.”
Young as she was, Sarah caught the note of concern in Joseph’s voice. “I believe you, Joseph.”
“Not many folks will go along with you, I’m afraid.”
Sarah sighed and said, “You’re right, I reckon. Our preacher came to see Pa the other night. They talked about you and your vision. He was angry with Pa for having you over so much. He said, ‘I don’t like your family’s close friendship with that Smith boy.’”
Distress clouded Joseph’s blue eyes. He sat down on a stump by the Palmers’ log house.
“But Pa likes you anyway,” Sarah hurried to add. “He told the preacher you were the best help he’s ever found, that when you work with my brothers the work goes faster, and he gets full worth for the wages he pays.” She stopped to catch her breath.
“Most folks have turned against me.”
“Well, our family likes you, but …” There was a trace of sadness in her voice. “I’m afraid even Pa thinks you only had a dream. He told the preacher he couldn’t understand why there was such a fuss over the sweet dream of a pure-minded boy.”
With the heel of his boot, Joseph hammered at the gnarled root of the stump. Sarah sat down in front of him, using a clump of wild mustard as a cushion. “I know you saw God, Joseph.”
“Yes, I did, Sarah, as plain as I see you. But folks hate me for saying it, especially the ministers.” His voice was puzzled. “I can’t quite figure it. They used to seek me out and try to help me find the truth. Why, they were ready to take me right up the path to heaven. Then, when the heavens opened and I saw Heavenly Father and His Son Jesus—and even talked with Them—the ministers wanted no part of me. In fact, now they’ve turned against me.”
“I’d never do that, Joseph.”
His face softened. He took her by the hand in an effort to still her worry. “Don’t fret, Sarah. Things will work out. Come on.” Joseph pulled her to her feet. “Let’s take this basket to your mother. It’s getting dark. You need to be inside and I need to get back.”
As Joseph crossed the dooryard to his home a short time later, he was still thinking about his talk with little Sarah. How my life has changed, he pondered.
Suddenly a shot split the stillness, whistling right past him! Then another shot cut the air in front of his face, and he dashed for the house. Cold terror chilled Joseph through, for he knew the shots were meant for him.
Yanking on the latchstring, he pushed the door open with a bang. “Someone just tried to kill me!” he shouted. “The shots came so close I could feel them!”
His father dropped the metal lantern he was making and pulled Joseph away from the door. He was a man not given to showing his emotions, but now his eyes blazed with anger and his jaw was set. He ran out into the dooryard. There was no movement, no sound except for one of the cows bellowing over by the barn. He called to his boys. “Hyrum, search the barn and sheds. Alvin, you go around back. I’ll take the road.”
When Joseph made a move to follow, his father said, “No, son. You stay inside with the family.”
As the men of the family disappeared through the door, Catherine’s seven-year-old face puckered. “Why did they go out there? They might be killed!”
She began to cry hysterically. At the sight of her tears little Don Carlos also began to weep although he didn’t know why. Sophronia, now as tall as her mother, settled herself on a bench and gathered the little ones into her arms. Joseph locked the shutter while his mother bolted the door and pulled the latchstring inside.
Eight-year-old William drew close to his mother.
Outside, Hyrum crept toward the barn, as wary as a painter (cougar). Easing himself inside the door, he listened in the near darkness. The sheep were huddled in a corner with their noses up tilted toward him, bleating softly. Off in the hay, a setting hen lifted her head in nervous jerks. As Hyrum cautiously searched the barn and loft, the hen clucked her complaint. If a stranger had run in here to hide, he reasoned, the animals would have made a ruckus.
Alvin, whose search took him over to the well and down along the rock wall to the apple tree, had also failed to find the fugitive. Once he heard a sound like a pinecone dropping to the ground. When it came again and again, he remembered that a man could make the same sound if he put his foot down flat all at once. It was an Indian trick. But when Alvin followed the sounds, no one was there.
Joseph’s father was a gentle man, but his great, kindly heart was hammering against his chest in a strong, determined beat. His weathered hands were clenched into fists. If I could lay my hands on that scoundrel, I’d give proof to what folks say about me being one of the strongest men hereabouts, he thought.
By the time he had searched the woods and road in front of their cabin, the shadows had thickened into night. He found no one.
Looking further would be as useless as hunting thunder in a storm, he decided. If it were day, I’d search every tree and bush, every hill and hollow, until I found the would-be killer.
Joseph’s father turned and walked back to the house, his shoulders drooping with the weight of a new worry. He called to the boys, “Alvin, Hyrum, you’d best come in now. We’ll look again first thing in the morning. We just might find a clue.”
Next morning, about an hour before sunup, Joseph’s father and the boys were examining the area surrounding the dooryard for clues. As yet there had been nothing to help them discover who it was that had tried to shoot Joseph the night before.
Hyrum was the first to call out. “Hey, over here … under the wagon. The brush has been trampled.”
Joseph’s father hunched down to examine the underbrush, still flattened against the ground.
“He must have been lying here for some time just waiting for Joseph,” their father surmised.
Alvin was perplexed. “But why would anyone want to shoot him?”
Inside, Joseph’s mother heard their discussion as she raked the hot coals from under the ashes in the fireplace. Laying aside the poker, she hustled outside and over to the wagon. Her words echoed the question. “Yes, Alvin, that’s what I’ve been wondering. Joseph is a well-disposed boy who wouldn’t harm anyone.”
They turned to look at Joseph, almost as if they expected an answer.
Joseph shrugged and shook his head, bewildered.
It was the next morning before any further discoveries were made. Joseph had gone to the barn to do the milking. Suddenly he appeared at the barn door. “Father, come quick!” he called. “Come see what I’ve found!”
His excited call brought immediate response from the family. His mother arrived first, carrying Don Carlos. The others came panting in from the field where they had been harvesting potatoes.
Joseph pointed to one of the cows. “Look … here on her neck … and there on her head.”
Carefully, his father examined the cow. “She’s been wounded somehow. There’s been some bleeding, but it’s not very recent.”
“I don’t know how it happened,” Joseph explained. “While I was milking her, she kept shaking her head as if to toss off a bothersome fly. She kept doing it—crazy like—so I looked her over. That’s when I found the wounds.”
After further examination his father took out a knife. “There’s something lodged in there,” he said. “Fetch some new ashes, Samuel. Alvin, put a rope over her back and draw it tightly under her flanks so she’ll lie down easily.”
Joseph’s father talked to the cow with gentle words as the boys tied her legs together. The he skillfully cut into the crusted wounds. Fresh red blood brightened each incision. Catherine gasped and sunk her head into the folds of her mother’s skirt. When Father Smith had finished, he showed the family two lead rifle balls.
“How in thunder? …” Alvin began, but Joseph interrupted. “I’ll wager they’re from the gun that was shot at me. I heard a cow by the barn when I was crossing the dooryard that night. If this was the cow, she’d have been opposite the wagon.”
His father nodded. “Must be. There’s no other way to explain it.”
As soon as Samuel returned with the ashes for a poultice, his father dressed the wounds so they wouldn’t fester. Then he untied the rope and the cow struggled to her feet.
When Father Smith turned from the cow he looked at Joseph, an expression of concern on his face. “I wonder, Joseph,” he said, “if we’ll ever find the coward who tried to kill you.”
“No, I don’t think you ever will,” Joseph answered. “It was the devil.”
His father gave him a troubled look. “The devil? What do you mean?”
“Why, I mean it was the devil in the hearts of the people that did it. That’s the only way to account for such wickedness.”
His father stood silent a moment. Then he said, “I guess you’re right, Joseph.”
And Joseph, though young, had learned something else: that God would protect him and that the truth of the vision would stand, even if people turned against him.

Some youth face different but equally difficult challenges.
Exavier R., 15, has been raised by his mother. “I saw other people with fathers in their lives, but I never had one in my life.” While Exavier’s mother works to support their family, he helps take care of his two little sisters. He wakes up every morning and helps them get ready for the day. He takes them to school before heading to his own school. After school, he picks them up, takes them home, and helps them with whatever they need. That takes a lot of strength and maturity, but people around Exavier “think I’m weak. I’ve seen a lot of bad things and been through a lot of hard things in my life, and people don’t know the real me,” he says.
Exavier and his mother joined the Church when he was 14. When he was baptized, his Young Men leaders became like fathers to him. “They guide me in the right direction and help me make the right decision,” he says. Most importantly, Exavier learned that he has a Heavenly Father who believes in him and expects him to do his best every day.

A big figure skating competition was going to be held in my town. I would be skating against 10 other girls. The problem was that my event was scheduled on a Sunday. I didn’t want to skate on Sunday.

My other option was to skate in a higher level. This competition would be held on Saturday, but I would be the youngest in the division and would have to compete against 18 skaters instead of 10. Three of them had already competed at Junior Nationals.

My mother left the decision up to me. I followed my heart and did what I knew to be right. I skated on Saturday in the higher level. I practiced really hard and was blessed with the first-place score and the gold medal.

Even more rewarding than winning was the good feeling I had from choosing the right.

My mother and my friend’s mother take turns driving us to school. One morning, my friend’s mother began asking questions about my religion and about our beliefs about the afterlife. I was surprised that she asked me, and I was a little scared because I hadn’t learned a lot about it.
As I began to talk, I remembered a seminary poster that was on the wall in my Primary room at church. It was about the veil between premortal life, mortality, and the spirit world. I told everything I could remember about the plan of salvation. My friend’s mother was impressed at the things I knew about my religion. I am grateful that the Lord gives me missionary moments.

But there’s more to the story. Because of her physical challenges, Kailey hadn’t always felt like she fit in at church. She and her younger brother Kenston, 10, both have autism, which makes it tough for them to express their feelings and interact with other people. Kenston also has Tourette’s syndrome, and so he makes repeated, quick movements and utters sounds that he cannot control. Even though their testimonies of the gospel are strong, Kailey and her family felt like they might be a distraction to others, and so they sometimes left Church meetings early or didn’t come at all.
However, when the youth started gathering cans, Kailey joined in every activity. She quickly made friends with the youth and the youth leaders in the ward.
“She joined right in and did everything,” says Rachel M., 17. “And by being there, she got to see not only what we were doing, but she experienced our attitudes about doing it as well.”
“Kailey’s always nice,” says Tommi B., 12. “When you see her, she’s always the first one to say hi.”
“I just want to be friends with everyone,” Kailey says. “It really means a lot to me to be accepted.”
As Kailey’s parents saw how well she was fellowshipped by the youth of the ward, they gained an increased vision of how the ward family could support their family. They felt more welcome at meetings, including bringing Kenston along. Ward members have come to understand that Kenston will sometimes unexpectedly sit in the choir seats and then return to his family after a few minutes or that he may make a noise he can’t stop, and they also understand that his friendship is quick and genuine.
“It didn’t take long before the youth caught the vision that getting Braille equipment was never really the true goal of this project,” Bishop Holmes says. “The real goal was to let Kailey and her family know that we love them and that we need them here to make our ward family complete.”

But life will never be the same. Some people, particularly children, who see her for the first time are frightened. For a friendly little girl who remains the same inside despite the changes on the outside, the rejection can be devastating.
Sage was playing outside one day when a child came upon her. Unprepared for the experience, he ran away screaming, “Monster! Monster!” It hurt, but Sage understood. “The kids used to laugh at me,” she says. Do they now? “Not at school. Sometimes people stare when we go to the store.”

Emma looked at the bright yellow rubber raft on top of the van and felt a little shiver run down her back. She’d never been rafting before, and she didn’t know what to expect.
“You’ll like the Big Eddy,” Dad was saying. He pulled their lifejackets out of the van and handed one to Emma. “It’s beautiful and exciting. Someone takes your picture right when your raft crashes through the Big Eddy.”
Emma didn’t like that word—crash.
“Let’s hurry, Dad,” her little brother Zachary said. He didn’t look nervous at all, but Emma’s stomach churned.
A raft passed them going down the river, and Emma could hear one of the men yelling over the rushing water.
“The guide in the back tells them when to paddle forward or backward, and when to stop so they won’t tip over,” Dad said.
Dad was going to be the guide in their family’s raft. She hoped he knew the right directions to tell them.
Mom and Dad put the raft into a calm place in the river and they all jumped in. The water was moving slowly for now, and Emma started to relax.
The raft bobbed around and up and down through the current. Everyone paddled when Dad said to paddle. A little water splashed up on them. Emma and Zachary laughed. Maybe this would be fun after all.
Suddenly the raft started going faster, and the sound of the water got louder. They were getting close to the Big Eddy!
Dad shouted instructions for them to go through the next rapid sideways. They paddled on the right side of the raft, but something went wrong. When the river curved, the current washed them to the other side. They tried to go back, but instead, the raft banged into a log on the riverbank.
Emma, Zachary, and Mom yelled as the water pushed against the raft. At first the water pushed them back into the river, but then another wave crashed them back against the log.
Dad tried so hard to get them out of the whirlpool that he fell overboard and the river swept him downstream toward the Big Eddy. The next surge of water tossed Mom out. Emma was terrified, but she felt prompted to grab Zachary and point to the log. Somehow they both scrambled onto it just before the raft flipped upside down and slipped out into the rapids again.
Another raft came down the river, and the guide had the people in the raft steer over until they were next to the log.
“Get in!” yelled the guide.
Zachary held back, his eyes wide. Emma was frozen in place. They both clung to the log, unable to move.
Then she remembered President Packer’s words from a conference talk she had taped to her closet door at home. He said that the Spirit will show us what to do so we don’t have to be afraid.
As she thought about those words, Emma felt less afraid. She thought that she should hold Zachary’s hand and they would make it to the raft safely. She gripped Zachary’s hand, and with the help of the guide, they scrambled into the bouncing raft. They huddled together until the guide got the raft to a calm pool of water where Mom and Dad were anxiously waiting. Dad’s arm had a cut on it, and both of Mom’s knees were scraped up, but they were OK.
They all hugged. “I’m so glad you’re safe,” Dad said.
“I was really scared, but the Spirit helped me feel brave,” Emma said. “He told me what to do.”