Gospel Story Finder

Why can’t I tell?” Ryan asked as he tiptoed behind Samantha to the big willow tree by the creek.
“‘Cause it’s a secret,” his friend Samantha whispered. “Nobody’s supposed to know about it except you and me and Grandpa.” Very carefully she lifted the leafy branch so that Ryan could see. “Don’t touch—just look.”
“Wow!” Ryan exclaimed as he looked at the four tiny white eggs in the nest. “How did you find it?”
“Grandpa showed it to me,” Samantha said proudly. “He says that if we don’t disturb it, pretty soon we’ll see the baby birds when they’re hatched. It’s a secret ’cause if lots of kids start coming around, the mother will abandon the nest.”
“Wow!” Ryan said again as he put the branch back in place to hide the nest. “I never saw a bird’s nest with real eggs in it before. I won’t tell anyone else.”
“We’ll come back on Saturday,” Samantha said as they started home. “Grandpa says that the eggs should be hatched by then.”
Ryan remembered the nature study lesson their second grade class had just had. “I have an idea,” he said. “If we’re careful not to disturb the mother, maybe we can watch her feed the babies and see them learn to fly.”
“Great idea!” Samantha agreed.
Ryan felt proud that Samantha trusted him with the secret. He wished he felt the same way about the secret Joey had told him last week. That secret made Ryan feel scared because Joey had said that Ryan would be in big trouble if he told anyone, and Joey was a big bully.
When Mom called him for lunch, Ryan was still thinking about Joey’s secret.
“Aren’t you hungry today?” Mom asked when she saw him pushing his macaroni around the plate with his fork.
“Not very.” Macaroni was his favorite, but today it didn’t taste so good. “Mom, is it OK for a kid to tell a secret if someone told him not to?”
“That depends,” Mom said. “If it’s a secret that makes you feel unhappy or upset, you should always tell a grown-up you can trust. But if the secret makes you feel happy, then it’s a good secret and you should keep it.”
Ryan liked what Mom said, and she was a grown-up he could trust. “Mom, Joey told me a secret about how easy it is to snitch stuff from Mr. Sonny’s store.”
“Did you feel happy when he told you?” Mom asked.
“No, but he said I’d be in big trouble if I told, and I’m scared of him.”
Mom smiled. “You won’t be in any big trouble. I’m pleased that you didn’t like Joey’s secret. I’ll speak to Mr. Sonny, and he can deal with Joey.”
Suddenly the macaroni tasted wonderful. Ryan knew that the secret he shared with Samantha was one he would keep. It was a good one. Soon he would see four fluffy baby birds in the nest, and that made him happy.

The Isaac Morley farm in Kirtland was the site of the service project. Overgrown with thorny vines, grass choking the lanes, trees crowding the old home, the farm was discouraging. Cleaning it up looked like an impossible task. But never underestimate a determined group of LDS teenagers. They tore into their assigned tasks with a vengeance. “I haven’t worked that hard in years,” said Autumn Cornaby, 17, of the Dublin Ward. “You could feel everyone working together. I thought we would never be able to clear this road.”
The group stuck with it, ignoring the scratches and the heat. By the end of the day, the road was cleared, the lawn cut, the trees trimmed, and the flowerbeds around the house cleaned out.
After a day of hard work, they heard the stories about the wonderful visions that were given to early Church leaders on the farm. One verse in the 64th section of the Doctrine and Covenants, which was received on that farm, took on a personal meaning. “Wherefore, be not weary in well-doing, for ye are laying the foundation of a great work. And out of small things proceedeth that which is great” (D&C 64:33).

A little girl taught me a profound lesson on this subject. Surely you are not above learning from little children. Much of what I know that really matters I have learned from being a father.

Some years ago I returned home to find our little children were waiting in the driveway. They had discovered some newly hatched chicks under the manger in the barn. When they reached for them, a protective hen rebuffed them. So they came for reinforcements.

I soon gathered a handful of little chicks for them to see and touch.

As our little girl held one of them, I said in a teasing way, “That will make a nice watchdog when it grows up, won’t it?” She looked at me quizzically, as if I didn’t know much.

So I changed my approach: “It won’t be a watchdog, will it?” She shook her head, “No, Daddy.” Then I added, “It will be a nice riding horse.”

She wrinkled up her nose and gave me that “Oh, Dad!” look. For even a four-year-old knows that a chick will not be a dog, nor a horse, nor even a turkey. It will be a chicken. It will follow the pattern of its parentage. She knew that without having had a course in genetics, without a lesson or a lecture.

No lesson is more manifest in nature than that all living things do as the Lord commanded in the Creation. They reproduce “after their own kind.” (See Moses 2:12, 24.) They follow the pattern of their parentage. Everyone knows that; every four-year-old knows that! A bird will not become an animal nor a fish. A mammal will not beget reptiles, nor “do men gather … figs of thistles.” (Matt. 7:16.)

In the countless billions of opportunities in the reproduction of living things, one kind does not beget another. If a species ever does cross, the offspring cannot reproduce. The pattern for all life is the pattern of the parentage.

This is demonstrated in so many obvious ways, even an ordinary mind should understand it. Surely no one with reverence for God could believe that His children evolved from slime or from reptiles. (Although one can easily imagine that those who accept the theory of evolution don’t show much enthusiasm for genealogical research!) The theory of evolution, and it is a theory, will have an entirely different dimension when the workings of God in creation are fully revealed.

Since every living thing follows the pattern of its parentage, are we to suppose that God had some other strange pattern in mind for His offspring? Surely we, His children, are not, in the language of science, a different species than He is?

What is in error, then, when we use the term Godhood to describe the ultimate destiny of mankind? We may now be young in our progression—juvenile, even infantile, compared with Him. Nevertheless, in the eternities to come, if we are worthy, we may be like unto Him, enter His presence, “see as [we] are seen, and know as [we] are known,” and receive a “fulness.” (D&C 76:94.)

New Year’s Day began early for our family, after only a few hours of sleep from celebrating New Year’s Eve. Mom was always the first one up, busily packing our lunch. Dad would pack the van with toboggans, inner tubes, sleds, an old pair of wooden skis, and many other contraptions that could be used to slide down snow-covered hills. Many of our friends, the bishop’s family, our aunt, uncle, and cousins would all gather in the living room. When everyone was accounted for, we would all pile into the van and other cars. As my dad led the way, our small caravan of cars headed off to the abandoned ski lodge at Dryden, Michigan.
The hour drive was mostly quiet, since many of us were still half asleep. Then, suddenly, the huge, old ski lodge would appear on top of a large hill, like a majestic monument, welcoming us to our private winter wonderland.
Next, there were slamming doors and snowballs whizzing through the air. Before I could get my mittens on and my scarf in place, I would usually be dragged into a deep snowbank and given a good face wash of cold, icy snow. Burrs hiding beneath the snow would now be totally entangled in my long hair. This was nothing to fret about; it was all part of the ritual. As soon as I could brush off my face, I would join in the race to the old lodge, accompanied by my favorite companions, Gretchen and Fluffy, my faithful 85-pound German shepherds.
The first step into the lodge was always an eerie encounter. Dead birds were scattered everywhere on the floor. We would all carefully walk up the huge, wooden stairs to the upper part of the lodge. It was one vast, spacious room, with enormous windows that opened to the most picturesque view. We could see the snow-covered slopes, the tops of the ice-frosted trees, and the blue frozen lake.
Dad and some of the boys would carry in wood, and the massive stone fireplace was soon roaring with a flaming fire. Then the fun began!
Off we’d go out the big back doors, down the stairs to the top of the hill. It was challenging to see how many people we could crowd onto the eight-man toboggan for the first ride down the slopes.
The sport continued until all of us were famished. Then back inside, we drank hot chocolate before the warmth of the fire. As soon as the feeling returned to our numb fingers and toes and our stomachs were satisfied, it was back to the slopes.
As the sun would begin to leave us and the sky filled with brilliant colors of orange, pink, purple and blue, it was time to gather all our snow gear and return home.
Some of our friends and family would return to our house. There we would eat hot chili and talk about the new year. We dreamed and planned about buying the old lodge and turning it into a beautiful home. As the night grew on, it was time to say good-bye. I always felt sad about the ending of this day. Tomorrow we’d be back at school and work, and it would be a whole year before another day of fun and carefree play in the snow.
Now, I look back on these days with great fondness. I remember watching those I love play in the brisk cold as the color-filled sky met the winter landscape on the horizon. As I gazed at that beautiful scene, I could feel my Heavenly Father’s love and I developed a deep gratitude for this beautiful world. I felt excitement just listening to the sounds of laughter from family and friends and the crunch of crisp snow under my boots. I remember feeling exhilarated by the sense of being alive as I took deep breaths of that cold air.
I realize now that family traditions have power we don’t always anticipate when they’re being developed. I suspect that as my parents began that yearly outing at the start of a new year, they were not fully aware of the significance it would come to have for our family. Now it is one of my most cherished memories, a part of who I am and the family I belong to.

When President Kimball died, we were living in Arizona. President Kimball had been in our home. We had knelt with him in family prayer, and he had eaten bread and milk with us. We knew he was a prophet of God.
I wanted a witness of the Spirit that President Benson was God’s chosen prophet. I wanted to know more than that he was just a good person and next in line after President Kimball. The Lord was kind to me, and, after fasting and prayer, I received, by the Spirit, the witness that President Benson was indeed God’s chosen prophet for this time, with a special calling and a special message for our day.

On the positive side, President Hinckley told of what can happen when just one person chooses to remain active in the Church. He shared this story: Years ago, President Charles A. Callis, then a member of the Quorum of the Twelve, but who previously was president of the Southern States Mission for twenty-five years, told me this story. He said that he had a missionary in the southern states who came in to get his release at the conclusion of his mission. His mission president said to him, 'Have you had a good mission?'
He said, "No."
"How is that?"
"Well, I haven't had any results from my work. I have wasted my time and my father's money. It's been a waste of time."
Brother Callis said, "Haven't you baptized anyone?"
He said, "I baptized only one person during the two years that I have been here. That was a twelve-year-old boy up in the back hollows of Tennessee."
He went home with a sense of failure. Brother Callis said, "I decided to follow that boy who had been baptized. I wanted to know what became of him. The next time I went up into that area I looked him up. He had put on shoes (he'd never worn shoes before), he'd put on a shirt (he'd never had a shirt before), he was the clerk of the little branch Sunday School."
Brother Callis said, "I followed him through the years. He became the Sunday School Superintendent, and he eventually became the branch president. He married. He moved off the little tenant farm on which he and his parents before him had lived and got a piece of ground of his own and made it fruitful. He became the district president. He sold that piece of ground in Tennessee and moved to Idaho and bought a farm along the Snake River and prospered there. His children grew. They went on missions. They came home. They had children of their own who went on missions."
Brother Callis continued, "I've just spent a week up in Idaho looking up every member of that family that I could find and talking to them about their missionary service. I discovered that, as the result of the baptism of that one little boy in the back hollows of Tennessee by a missionary who thought he had failed, more than 1,100 people have come into the Church."

When a twelve- or thirteen-year-old boy is called to be the president of a quorum and is left alone by his adult leaders, he might well flounder and fail. It is critically important that his adviser and others teach him how to be an effective president. To do this, the adviser, who has a major role to play, will not take over his responsibility but rather will coach him in order to help him grow in the office. One deacons quorum president must have been taught well by his adviser to have had the following experience:
A stake Aaronic Priesthood committee member attended one of the quorum meetings for several weeks in a row. One Sunday morning, he noticed a boy in attendance who had not been there before. To his dismay, this inactive boy was called on to offer one of the prayers. Anyone would know that the first time an inactive boy comes to priesthood meeting he should not be embarrassed by being asked to pray.
After the meeting, this high councilor asked the adviser why the president of the quorum would do such a foolish thing. The adviser said, “Why don’t you ask him?” When asked, the quorum president replied, “I just spent three days this week teaching him how to pray.” Sometimes these young people have a special touch which only peers seem to have. However, they do need to be taught well how to lead.

When I was getting my hair cut, one of the ladies there gave me a cup of tea. I said, “No thank you.”
She tried to give it to me again. I still said, “No thank you.”
Morgan’s mother writes: “The lady cutting Morgan’s hair was very insistent, trying to get her to drink the tea. I was very proud of her. She was very polite, while sticking to her belief in the Word of Wisdom. She wanted to share this in the Friend. I think she’s a wonderful child!”

In 2006, Elder Henderson and I went to live in Malawi, Africa. The company that Elder Henderson worked for had a desire to help thousands of orphan children who were dying of starvation. It was hard work in that poor country, but Elder Henderson and his colleagues built a food factory, gave jobs to many workers, and were able to feed about 80,000 children every day. It was a great experience to help so many children.
We lived in the capital city of Lilongwe. There were only a few members of the Church and no church meetings. We had a small truck, and Elder Henderson and I started to do missionary work at night. We began to hold Sunday meetings in a room where corn was stored. We found a member of the Church, Brother Ntoloa. He now was married to a lady who was not a member, and they had a little boy. One night, we visited their one-room house in a cornfield to teach Sister Ntoloa the gospel. They had one light in the room, and we could all sit together as we taught this dear lady about the Savior and the Book of Mormon. As we were starting, it began to rain. The little house had an iron roof, so the rain was very, very loud. Then… the electricity went off. Quickly, they brought two small candles for light.
“What shall we do to teach Sister Ntoloa?” we thought. It felt so empty and cold, and rain was pounding down. Then Elder Henderson turned to 3 Nephi, the story about the Savior coming to the people in America after the resurrection. We took turns reading by the small light. We had to read loudly to hear each other. When we read about Jesus Christ showing his hands and feet, a very strong feeling came into the room. The Holy Ghost came into the dark and cold and touched our hearts that the story was true. We felt warm and close. Sister Ntoloa could feel the Savior’s love for her.
Sister Ntoloa followed the feelings of the Holy Ghost and was baptized. She made the covenants of baptism that her husband had made, and together, they started a new life. Brother Ntoloa was a schoolteacher. They were poor but began to pay their tithing. One month, the government did not give the teachers their salary. Three weeks went by with no pay, and one night, the family only had a little corn to eat – not enough for the three of them. Brother Ntoloa told his wife to cook the corn. Then they went down on their knees as a family, and the father prayed. He told Heavenly Father that they had done all they could. They walked five miles to church every Sunday. They had stopped drinking tea and were keeping the Word of Wisdom. He had worked hard, and they had kept the covenants they had made when baptized, including paying their tithing. Now, they did not have enough to eat.
As they said “amen,” someone knocked at their door. It was a friend who had his arms full of lovely vegetables. He said that he had some very good luck and had extra and asked if they wanted to share his food.
They were able to have a good meal that night. It was a miracle. The Ntoloas learned that the Lord would keep His promises to them. On Monday, Brother Ntoloa received his pay. His wife started to go to school and also became a schoolteacher. Soon our little church group grew to be a branch, and Brother Ntoloa was called as the branch president or bishop. They had kept their covenants with faith. God had poured out His blessings. They were a happy family in their little house, and now they were leading and showing others how to have the same blessings.

After this, my fiancé sent the missionaries to teach me. I told them I already knew the restored gospel was true and that I understood what the Holy Ghost feels like. But I was concerned that it would be difficult for me to give up smoking and drinking coffee and tea.
I began to attend church, read the Book of Mormon, and meet with the sister missionaries three or four times a week. Eventually, the Holy Ghost helped me stop smoking and drinking coffee and tea.

As a young boy, Artur had studied the Bible and formed questions about his relationship to God and about God’s true Church. No one had answers to satisfy him. Finally, he prayed to God to show him which church was true.
Both the answer Artur received and the way it came surprised him.
As a youth, he says, “I liked to study about different religions.” His study convinced him that the Church of Jesus Christ ought to be on the earth. Yet he could not find one that seemed to meet biblical criteria. He was even tempted at one point to wonder if God really existed, but the faith that lived inside him overcame that doubt. He knew that if anyone could provide answers, it would be God. There came a time when he was 18 that Artur prayed, specifically asking to be led to the true Church.
Not long afterward, while he was visiting at the home of his aunt, he saw a dusty book sitting on a shelf. It was titled the Book of Mormon. His aunt had received it from some sister missionaries, then had laid it aside and forgotten it.
Artur picked it up and put it back down three times, struggling over whether to read it. No, he would not; he believed only in the Bible. But this book said it was another testament of Jesus Christ. No, this Joseph Smith story at the beginning was too fantastic. But what if it was true? No, the story in the first 20 pages of the book was simply foreign to all he knew.
Still, what he had read stayed with him all week long. When he returned to his aunt’s house, planning to resume reading where he had left off, the book was gone!
It would be some time before Artur received his own copy of the Book of Mormon.
He introduced himself to missionaries on the street in Katowice. When they did not call him immediately as promised (this is a mistake Elder Tomaszewski the missionary does not make now), he decided to seek them out on a Sunday morning at the meetinghouse address on a flyer they had given him.
It happened to be a fast Sunday, and as members bore their testimonies, Artur felt the same feeling of peace and surety that had stayed with him after his first reading in the Book of Mormon. The feeling was so strong that he wanted to stand and bear his own testimony that the book was true, but he did not know if this would be permitted.
When the missionaries finally gave him his own copy of the Book of Mormon, they asked him solemnly if he would promise to read it and pray for an answer about its truthfulness. Artur laughed. He already knew he could get an answer from God.
He read and he prayed. The answer that came was so strong it seemed to be not only a feeling, but also “like light to my eyes,” giving great clarity to the truths he already knew from the Bible. He laughed out loud once more, wondering if the answer about the Church of Jesus Christ could really be this “clear and simple.” He had thought it might be some complicated thing. He prayed again to be sure and received the same strong answer, assuring him that God’s truths are plain, not complicated.
“When I found out it was true, I went home full of joy,” he recalls. But no one wanted to share the joy. His mother and two younger brothers were not interested. His father was antagonistic. After Artur’s baptism in 2002, he had almost no support from friends and acquaintances either, except within his branch.
Religious tradition is very strong in Poland. No one could understand why he wanted to leave the dominant faith. Still, he says, his parents’ teaching and example were very valuable in preparing him to find the truth. “I’m grateful they did what they knew how to do in teaching me.”
Being alone in living the gospel did not break down his faith. When he determined to serve a mission, he was willing to give up the jujitsu practices and competitions he loved—something that had been part of his life from childhood—to work and save money for a mission. Jujitsu, he says, was an art form for him. “I felt like a painter painting a picture when I practiced.” But working left him no time to practice.
Before leaving his hometown of Mystowice to serve as a missionary, Elder Tomaszewski left a challenge for his younger brother Patryk, who was also deeply involved in jujitsu. “If you want to find out why I’m doing this, why I’m giving up my sport, read the Book of Mormon and pray about it.”
Elder Tomaszewski says some of the qualities developed through the discipline of jujitsu have been helpful in the mission field: patience, humility, and the capacity for hard work.
What does he like most about missionary work?
“Often when I’m really tired, when I feel like I don’t have any strength left and maybe I’m lacking a little in faith, we knock on a door and find someone,” he says. Finding someone who wants to listen sometimes makes him so excited he can’t sleep.
And what has been his best day as a missionary?
The day he learned that his younger brother had taken his challenge to read and pray about the Book of Mormon. Patryk Tomaszewski also received a testimony. He was baptized in August 2004.
Now there are two Tomaszewskis to share the joy of the gospel.

Several years ago, after hearing a young woman in our ward recite “The Living Christ,”1 I decided I would memorize it too. I took a small copy of the document with me as I ran in the early mornings. Because I was alone and distractions were minimal, this was an ideal opportunity for me to think. After several months of this, I was in great physical shape—and I had met my memorization goal.
As good as “finishing” felt, the long-term benefits were even better. I found myself thinking more often about Jesus Christ, His life, and His mission and wanting to be more like Him. I treated my husband and our children with more patience and love. I found greater peace and happiness in all that I did. And I felt greater joy in caring for and loving those around me. Then, like Lehi, who partook of the fruit of the tree of life, I wanted my family to experience what I had (see 1 Nephi 8:12).

Photographs courtesy of the Lewis family and by Richard M. Romney and Donal Pearce
Blake Lewis, 17, was among the leaders at the Utah 6A state high school cross-country championships, and his best friend and teammate, Sean Rausch, 18, was right behind him. “Our team, Riverton, had never won state before, and we were going for it,” Sean says.
The race was intense, but Riverton was doing well. With only 200 meters (220 yards) left in the three-mile race, the first runners were about to leave the hills and grass behind, make a sharp turn, and enter the stadium where they would sprint to the finish.
Then, Blake fell. Not from a trip or a stumble. He collapsed. The tibia bone in his lower leg had snapped.
“I came around a corner and saw Blake lying on the ground, holding his leg and screaming in pain,” Sean remembers.
Even though Sean was a senior and this was his last chance to race at state, he didn’t hesitate. “I had no thought of leaving Blake and just finishing the race,” he says. “He wanted to finish and so did I, and I was ready to help him the whole way. So, I put him on my back and carried him to the finish line.”
Two hundred meters is a long way to carry somebody that’s your same height and weight. “I wanted to comfort him,” Sean says. “So, I kept reminding him of the years we’d been running together, of the 1,250 miles (2,012 km) we’d run together over the summer.”
In between Blake’s groans, Sean kept repeating, “We’re a team, and we’re a family.” An official rushed up to tell them giving assistance to another runner wasn’t allowed, but Sean said it didn’t matter. “We’re in this together,” he said, “and we’re going to finish it together.” The official disqualified them both, but allowed them to continue.
At the end of their ordeal, Sean gently set Blake down so that he could step—actually, hop—over the finish line. Then Blake, with help, climbed into an ambulance.
The Riverton men’s team took third place as a team, but they didn’t celebrate. Instead, they kneeled and prayed for Blake. And when the women’s team found out about Blake, they did the same.
“I was in the hospital when I heard they had prayed for me,” Blake said. “That was so emotional, that my teammates would do that for me.”
“We prayed that Blake would be all right, and that nothing too serious would result,” Sean says. And he believes the prayer was answered. “The doctor said the injury could have been a lot worse if Blake had tried to finish the race on his own.”
“And the doctor told my mom it was a miracle that it was a clean break, lined up so straight that no surgery was necessary,” Blake says. “Otherwise they would have placed a metal rod in my leg, and running would have become painful.”
Websites, TV stations, and newspapers across the USA featured accounts of Sean carrying Blake to the finish line. A social media video went viral, and the story popped up in Asia, Australia, South America, and Europe.
“I think our story became popular because people like to be reminded there’s still good in the world,” Blake says. Sean agrees: “It’s nice to see that a simple act of kindness can touch so many lives.”
The local community also celebrated Sean’s good deed. At Riverton’s annual Veteran’s Day celebration, which features a 5K and a one-mile run, Sean was recognized as a “local hero,” and Blake was invited to sound the horn to start the race.
In a short speech, Sean said, “I’m not a hero. I was just taking care of my brother.”
Both young men feel their experience reinforced gospel principles to them.
“We all have hardships in our lives,” Blake says. “But just like Sean was there for me, the Savior is there for us. If we let Him, He’ll pick us up and help us finish.”
“If any one of us on the team went down,” Sean says, “the rest of the team would be there for him.” The same is true for his priesthood quorum. “We’re always there as a team, serving together. For Mutual, Church meetings, sacrament, and any service that anybody needs, we’re always trying to help and support each other.”
“When we run, we always set goals, then train to meet those goals,” Blake said. “If you don’t train, you’re not going to get better. Our ultimate eternal goal is to have eternal life and to return to our Heavenly Father. So, we have spiritual goals, and we train through prayer, scripture study, service, staying worthy, repentance—so that we can make it to the spiritual finish line.”

Mackenzie felt miserable. Her best friend, Bekah, had moved all the way to Texas with her family. Mackenzie tried to have fun without Bekah, but it just wasn’t the same. Playing by herself just wasn’t fun. Mackenzie missed having someone to giggle with and play superheroes and princesses together. She missed Bekah.
Without Bekah, Mackenzie had no one to show her drawings to or sit with in Primary. She liked the other kids in her class, but none of them were her best friend.
One night Mackenzie lay in her bed, hugging her favorite stuffed animal, Bunny. She counted all the days Bekah had been gone. “I’m lonely,” she told Bunny. “What am I going to do?” Tears filled her eyes.
Bunny didn’t have any answers for her. But Mackenzie knew someone who did.
She knelt down beside her bed. Then she folded her arms and bowed her head. “Heavenly Father,” she prayed, “please help me find a new best friend so I won’t be lonely. Please help me be brave enough to talk to people.”
A few weeks later, Mackenzie’s parents invited someone over for dinner. His name was Brother Bryce. He was new in the ward. During dinner, Brother Bryce turned to Mackenzie and said, “My family is still in Colorado while I look for a house here, but I have a daughter about your age. Would you like to talk to her on the phone?”
Mackenzie’s heart started pounding. What am I going to say? What if she thinks I’m boring? Then Mackenzie remembered her prayer. Heavenly Father can help me be brave.
“Sure,” Mackenzie said in a small voice.
Brother Bryce pulled out his phone and called his family. Then he handed the phone to Mackenzie. She bit her lip nervously.
“You can sit on the couch while you talk,” Dad suggested with a smile.
Mackenzie nodded and headed to the living room. She sat on the couch and hugged a pillow tightly. She took a deep breath and raised the phone to her ear.
“Hello?” Mackenzie asked.
A quiet voice answered, “Hi.”
Mackenzie took another deep breath. “My name’s Mackenzie. What’s yours?”
“Hannah,” the girl said after a short pause. “Do you like books?”
Mackenzie smiled. “I love books. Do you like superheroes?”
“Superheroes are my favorite!” Hannah’s voice sounded excited. “What about princesses?”
“Definitely!” Mackenzie said with a grin.
Before they knew it, Mackenzie and Hannah were talking about all kinds of things. They could have talked forever, but Brother Bryce had to leave. And his phone battery was about to die!
“I can’t wait for you to get here!” Mackenzie said.
“Me too!” Hannah said. “You’re really cool!”
That night, Mackenzie knelt beside her bed with a huge smile. “Thank you, Heavenly Father,” she prayed, “for helping me find a brand-new friend.”
Mackenzie and Hannah have been best friends for 15 years. They grew up and went to college together. They’re still best friends today!

My own childhood is a testament of the powerful influence a Christian adult can have on the life of a child. My mother died when I was four years old, and my grandmother helped care for me and my siblings. She belonged to the Salvation Army church, and she taught us to pray, love our enemies, and treat others kindly. Her guidance during those few critical years laid the foundation for my future choices.

When enemies of the Church saw this increase in temple activity, they renewed their efforts to drive the Mormons away. They obtained a warrant for the arrest of Brigham Young and eight other Apostles. On 23 December, officials went to the temple to arrest Brigham Young. Knowing they were coming, Brigham asked the Lord for guidance and protection so that he could “live to prove advantageous to the Saints.”

Soon afterward he noticed William Miller in the hall. He proposed a plan to Brother Miller, who fortunately was about the same height as President Young. Brother Miller put on President Young’s cloak and left the temple in his carriage. The waiting marshals thought he was Brigham Young and arrested him. He was taken to Carthage and held until someone who knew Brigham told them they had the wrong man. In the meantime, Brigham Young and the others had gone safely into hiding.

The main physical goal I’ve had over the past few years has been to run in a mountain race near Colorado Springs. It is called the Pikes Peak Ascent and is a 13.32-mile race up the Pikes Peak mountain trail. The elevation gain is 7,815 feet and the finish is at approximately 14,050 feet, with the average grade being 11 percent. I love this race and have competed in it 13 of the past 16 years. I give credit to Jim Lamph, who encouraged me repeatedly to try it, and to Shane Cole for running it with me.

The first year I didn’t know what to expect, so I trained hard, running on dirt roads around Rexburg and on treadmills at a steep incline for hours each week. My focus was to be able to finish the race and to put my whole heart into it. It seemed to be on my mind every day as I made decisions on the best way to train and how to be healthy. My eating habits improved as did my sleep patterns. I trained the best way I knew how up until the week of the race. When we finally arrived in Manitou Springs and I looked up at the mountain from the starting line, it was hard to fathom that the next morning we would be running up the trail, all the way to the summit. This picture shows the starting line with me and Shane getting ready to run. Five minutes before the gun start, they had a performer sing “America the Beautiful,” and as I listened I imagined the view from the top that had inspired Katharine Lee to pen the words to the song. About four hours later I finished the race and took in the fabulous view. I was thrilled and happy and completely satisfied with my best efforts, even though I had walked some of the steeper parts and was far behind the overall winner.

I remember a young couple just out of college. One parent gave them a home; the other parent gave them furnishings and a new car. They had everything in the world given to them. Within three years they were divorced. They hadn’t worked and sacrificed. They had leaned on each other and on their parents as a crutch, had crippled themselves, and hadn’t grown. They hadn’t learned the hard part. They hadn’t worried about making their marriage work. Make sure you sacrifice, share, and grow together.

The other experience is the loss of his firstborn, a little daughter by the name of Mercy Josephine, whom he affectionately referred to as “Dodo.” Little Dodo, the eldest sister of President Joseph Fielding Smith, died when she was three. After watching over her night after night, holding her, and encouraging her, her father grieved when one entire night she went sleepless. The next morning when she said, “I’ll sleep tonight, papa,” the words “shot through my heart.” Shortly thereafter, she died. The sorrow of his heart can only be adequately expressed in the words of a letter written at that time to his wife Edna.
“I scarcely dare to trust myself to write, even now my heart aches, and my mind is all chaos; if I should murmur, may God forgive me, my soul has been and is tried with poignant grief, my heart is bruised and wrenched almost asunder. I am desolate, my home seems desolate and almost dreary … my own sweet Dodo is gone! I can scarcely believe it and my heart asks, can it be? I look in vain, I listen, no sound, I wander through the rooms, all are vacant, lonely, desolate, deserted. I look down the garden walk, peer around the house, look here and there for a glimpse of a little golden, sunny head and rosy cheeks, but no, alas, no pattering little footsteps. No beaming little black eyes sparkling with love for papa; no sweet little enquiring voice … no soft dimpled hands clasping me around the neck, no sweet rosy lips returning in childish innocence my fond embrace and kisses, but a vacant little chair. Her little toys are concealed, her clothes put by, and only the one desolate thought forcing its crushing leaden weight upon my heart—she is not here, she is gone! … I am almost wild, and O God only knows how much I loved my girl, and she the light and joy of my heart.”
Forty-six years later, just two years before his own death, President Smith wrote in his journal, “This is the 49th anniversary of the birth of my firstborn child, Mercy Josephine. A most beautiful and intelligent little girl. She died June 6, 1870, nearly three years old, leaving but the memory of the sweetest, happiest, loveliest three years of my whole life up to that time. O how I loved and cherished that little angel of love and light.”

Some time ago I went through a period in which I was plagued with many personal problems and felt that I had nobody to help me solve them. I was attending church regularly but had not been successful in finding solutions to my difficulties. Fear often overcame me, especially during the night. I was very unhappy.
One day when I was feeling particularly distraught, I tried to get in touch with the mission president. On another day I had a strong desire to reach the President of the Church. I thought if I could just speak with or write to him, he would give me the answers I sought.
While in this troubled state of mind, I attended a session of district conference in Cúcuta, Colombia. I found the answer I needed during a talk by the mission president. When President Canals asked, “When is the last time you had a spiritual experience?” I realized that I had been so preoccupied with trying to find someone to help me solve my problems that I had forgotten the Savior’s call to draw near unto Him (see D&C 88:63). In my rush to find a solution, I had forgotten the Being who had power to give me peace in my afflictions and to answer my prayers.
That very day I started the process of drawing nearer to my Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ. I told Heavenly Father of my fear and anguish, and I prayed in the name of Jesus Christ that I might have His Spirit to be with me. I dropped all of my burdens at the Savior’s feet, remembering His promise: “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28).
I still don’t have all the answers to my personal problems, but I have received strength and comfort. I have also received impressions that if I live a righteous life, keep the commandments, and serve the Lord with all my heart, He will help me solve my problems or give me strength to endure them (see Mosiah 24:14).