Gospel Story Finder

After finishing my studies in technical administration, I worked with a young executive who later became my husband. What a marvelous time of my life it was! But one month after our wedding, as my husband and I were traveling from Bogotá, Colombia, where we lived, to visit my parents in Duitama, we were involved in an automobile accident. The accident took my husband’s life and left me with amnesia. I couldn’t remember anything of the previous six years, couldn’t walk, and couldn’t move my left arm.
After months of physical therapy, I was finally able to walk again and move my arm somewhat. Gradually, my memory returned to the point that six years after the accident I could recall the events of my life except for two years: the one preceding the accident and the one following it. Still, my previous capabilities were much diminished. I had trouble converting my thoughts into words, and I found it difficult to repeat something after hearing it. Because I easily forgot details, some people took advantage of my lapses.
Eventually, the doctors felt they had done all they could. I tried to appear happy and enthusiastic, but I often felt frustrated and angry. What was I to do with my life?
When I was at my lowest point, I read in the scriptures where the Lord promises that we will not be tried above that which we can bear (see 1 Cor. 10:13; D&C 64:20). I prayed for a testimony of this promise.
I finally returned to the company where I had worked before the accident. Since I could not handle my old job, I worked at less demanding assignments—but even these tasks proved difficult. Nevertheless, I didn’t give up. I fought to complete my six-month contract. As I did, a marvelous feeling of hope illuminated my spirit, inspiring me to keep trying to improve my capabilities.
By staying close to the Lord, I reestablished confidence in myself and could feel the influence of the Holy Ghost in my life. This influence soon led me to consider serving a mission. I know some people thought my desire foolish, but when I spoke with the branch president, he gave me the courage I needed. To prepare myself, I decided to read the Book of Mormon in its entirety—something I had not yet accomplished in my 12 years as a member.
However, my poor memory posed a real challenge. After starting with 1 Nephi at least 10 times and not being able to remember a thing I had read, I knew I needed a different approach. I prayed to find a solution, and soon a method entered my mind: I would write a summary of each chapter as I read it.
I bought a notebook and read the first chapter of 1 Nephi. Since I had only a vague idea of what I had just read, I read the chapter again. Only then was I able to summarize in my notebook the main ideas in that chapter.
Prayerfully, I moved on. After completing 1 Nephi, I found I no longer had to read each chapter twice; once was enough to write a good summary. I read the entire Book of Mormon this way. When I finished, I was left with a strong spiritual witness that the book is true, and I could also testify that the Lord strengthens us if we turn to Him.
I next completed the missionary health form, and I answered each question honestly, even though the answers could frustrate my desire to be a missionary. How great was my joy when I received a call to serve in the Colombia Cali Mission! There I discovered the truth of another of the Lord’s promises, found in 1 Nephi 3:7: “The Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save he shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which he commandeth them.”
After I returned from my mission, I came to live with my parents on a farm where we grow products to sell. I have also developed a talent for knitting, which allows me to earn money and leaves me time for spiritual growth. I live a happy and productive life.
Of course, I would have preferred not to have had the accident, but I recognize the tremendous growth I have experienced because of it. I’ve learned that we may lose our dreams and hopes, even our loved ones, and our talents, riches, and strength might disappear—but the Lord will always support us. He gives us new dreams to replace those we have lost. In spite of all the difficulties we encounter, the Lord can help us move forward. He compensates—and He always keeps His promises.

Thanks for helping me study for that science test. I passed, thanks to you.
No problem!
Umm … how come you’ve been so nice to me after some of us were so mean when you first got here?
Well, after you failed that first science test you looked like you needed some help.
And we had a lesson in our family home evening about being kind to others.
What’s family home evening?
Family home evening is where we get together and have lessons, and games, and treats.
My family doesn’t do anything like that.
Hey! Does your family want to come to our home evening next Monday night?
Sounds fun. I’ll ask my mom.
Mom, can I be in charge of family home evening on Monday? I invited Audrey. I hope that’s OK.
… I’ll make brownies and …
To be continued …

In 1976, as the quarterback of this powerful team, I began to receive national recognition and honors. In 1977 we started the season red-hot. We won the first three games impressively and were nationally ranked, leading the country in many categories for offense as we headed to Corvallis to play Oregon State. During the fourth quarter of the contest, I was hit hard in the left knee, and I heard a pop. I didn’t want to leave the field. How ironic that a few plays later the same knee was hit again, and I knew that something was seriously wrong.

Caught up in the emotion of the moment, I persevered to finish the drive, but we failed to score a touchdown when we needed it most. As I hobbled to the sidelines, my knee felt unstable, and I knew I was finished for the day. I was replaced, and, to make matters worse, we lost the game.

During the flight back to Utah, worries consumed me. I felt anxious and fearful as I wondered what my future might hold. One doubt I had was about the success of our team. We had worked hard together to build a nationally respected program. Would I be letting everyone down?

At the Salt Lake airport, I was met by my wife, Wendy, who was worried but extremely supportive. We made our way to BYU’s Smith Fieldhouse, where we met Coach Edwards, athletic ­director Glen Tuckett, trainer Marv Roberson, and Dr. Robert Metcalf, who examined my knee. The look on the doctor’s face said it all. My college football career was over. I needed immediate ­surgery to repair a detached ligament.

How quickly our lives can change. I was devastated.

Where do you turn when life gets hard? In my state of mild shock, I needed additional strength, and it was right in front of me. I asked for a priesthood blessing. Without hesitation, these four remarkable “loyal, strong, and true” leaders were ready and worthy to act in the name of the Savior. A feeling of peace came over me as my fear turned to faith.

The operation was a success! To this day, and even through six years of playing in the National Football League, I have never had another problem with my knee.

The priesthood is not to be taken casually or lightly. It is “the power and authority that God gives to man to act in all things necessary for the salvation of God’s children.”5

I was grateful for honorable men who were ready at a moment’s notice to bless me. When I woke up the next morning after surgery, I tackled my “new normal.” I opened my scriptures and reviewed a list of priorities I had written before the season began.

1. The Savior and our eternal family.
2. The Church and building the kingdom.
3. My education at this great university.
4. My football team and athletic goals.

As I looked at life from an eternal perspective, I realized that in reality, very little had changed.

In the weeks that followed, my good friend and fellow quarterback Marc Wilson led the team to one victory after another—breaking passing records and gaining even greater national attention. So much for the concern that my team couldn’t be successful without me. What a powerful lesson that was! Because of my respect and love for my team, it became a privilege to offer support from the sidelines—although I have to admit that it was difficult standing there using crutches and not being on the field.

I chose to arrange the next two family home evenings, focusing on faith. I started off by preparing the lessons and trying to learn the chords on the guitar for the songs we would sing.
The first lesson was on faith. I asked what we as a family could change to grow our faith. They replied, “Praying, studying scriptures, fasting, going to church,” and so on. We agreed that there are many things you can do to grow your faith, but the most important thing is to actually do them. It’s important that you act in order to strengthen your faith.
The second lesson was on spiritual gifts. We talked about what faith and spiritual gifts had to do with each other.
Our faith-themed family home evenings went really well. We improved some things in our family; we had fun and tried not to just get it over with. We felt the Spirit together as a family.
Riza S., age 16, Roskilde, Denmark

I’ve written to you before but for nothing like this. I am writing to thank you for your article “How to Find Safety and Peace” (Nov. 1997) because I don’t think you’ll ever know truly how much it has helped me. I have had my fair share of sins, and pornography is probably the worst of them all. I had four magazines hidden that I would look at. I would make excuses to myself, but it got to the point where I was wondering if I could get away with buying a pornographic movie. Well, when I read your article, it knocked me back into reality. As soon as I was done reading the article, I went into my room and threw the disgusting magazines away. Thank you.
Name WithheldWashington

We had a lesson in Primary about studying the scriptures and being a good example to our friends. I learned one reason why this is so important. I live in a small town where thousands of Latter-day Saints come to visit each year—Nauvoo, Illinois. My sister and I are the only LDS students in our school, St. Peter and Paul School. It is just a few blocks from the original Nauvoo Temple site. Ever since the reconstruction of the temple was announced by President Hinckley in April 1999, people have talked a lot about it and about the Church. All the kids in school know I’m LDS, and sometimes it is uncomfortable when we talk about religion in class. But we all believe in Jesus, so when my teacher asked us, “What is a missionary?” I raised my hand. “A missionary is someone who spends all his time teaching about Jesus and serving people,” I said. My teacher was impressed with my answer.
Later that week, we were talking about Jesus and she asked, “Who baptized Jesus and where was He baptized?” I knew from my scripture study that John the Baptist had baptized the Savior and that it took place in the River Jordan. I was happy to be able to raise my hand again and answer her question. I felt like a good example, and I know that my scripture study paid off.
Bryce Capener, age 7Nauvoo, Illinois

We were out on our ranch in Wyoming over the New Year’s holiday. It was bitter cold—the temperature stood between thirty and forty degrees below zero. As my brother-in-law was bundling up one morning to go out and feed the cattle, I thought, “What a terrible chore on such a cold day!” I reflected back to my childhood, when I would see the men with their pitchforks go up on top of the haystacks, throw the hay down on the hayrack, get on the hayrack, and drive out to throw the hay to the cattle—handling every forkful of hay twice. I thought how much better it was the last time I assisted in the process. I rode in the back of a pickup truck already loaded with bales that had been loaded in the truck from a conveyor system. As we rode along, we would cut a string and drop the bale off the back end of the truck. It was still hard work, but much easier than handling it with a pitchfork twice.

Then I watched my brother-in-law go out into the cold, climb into a heated tractor cab, turn on his stereo music, and drive over to pick up a whole haystack at one time with his machine. Then I watched him go out to the field, with his machinery throwing the hay out the back end to feed his very large herd as he drove in the comfort of his heated cab and listened to beautiful music. How conditions have changed!

“Two months after I was baptized, the students from Kiribati were asked if anyone was interested in going home to introduce the Church there. I gave them my name. But when they learned I was 17, they told me I was too young.” Six young men accepted the call to take the gospel to Kiribati. They began in late 1975.
“Before they left, I asked them to talk to my parents. They agreed. I also sent many letters to my family bearing my testimony. They accepted the gospel and were baptized.” His grandmother, Tebwebwenikai Ribauea Tune, was the first person in the family to join.

I read again the other day Parley P. Pratt’s account of his reading the Book of Mormon and coming into the Church. Said he:
“I opened it with eagerness, and read its title page. I then read the testimony of several witnesses in relation to the manner of its being found and translated. After this I commenced its contents by course. I read all day; eating was a burden, I had no desire for food; sleep was a burden when the night came, for I preferred reading to sleep.
“As I read, the spirit of the Lord was upon me, and I knew and comprehended that the book was true, as plainly and manifestly as a man comprehends and knows that he exists” (Autobiography of Parley P. Pratt [1985], 20).
The gift of faith touched his life. He could not do enough to repay the Lord for what had come to him. He spent the remainder of his days in missionary service. He died a martyr to this great work and kingdom.

As a young man, Elder Cook loved sports, helping his high school teams win statewide recognition in basketball and football. His interests also included debate and politics. As a 16-year-old, he was one of two young men elected to represent the state at a national event. There he had the opportunity to meet current and future U.S. presidents Dwight D. Eisenhower, John F. Kennedy, Lyndon B. Johnson, Richard M. Nixon, and Gerald R. Ford. Seeing them at work in the law-making process impressed him deeply and helped influence his decision to study law.

One morning my missionary companion and I decided to go tracting in a small community in our assigned area in the southern Philippines. While we were busy knocking on doors, a man approached us and asked what we were doing. We could tell that he had been drinking.
Thinking that he was not really interested in our message, we handed him a pamphlet about the purpose of life. We then told him that if he would read the pamphlet and not drink that evening, we would come to his home to explain the purpose of life. He nodded and said he would wait for us. We hurriedly went on our way to a scheduled teaching appointment.
We really had no intention of returning to teach him that night, but every day afterward as we passed his house, I felt an impression to stop. I would immediately disregard the feeling, however, and justify my decision by telling myself that he was probably too drunk to listen.
After a few days the prompting became so strong that I could no longer resist it. As we knocked on his door, we were met by a startled lady who asked us why we had not returned earlier, as we had promised. She said her husband had waited for us that night and that for the first time in their married life, he had not been drinking.
We were embarrassed and apologized profusely. We set an appointment to return that night to teach her and her husband. Soon afterward Brother Gumabay (name has been changed) repented of all his worldly vices, was baptized, and became a pillar in the community.
A few days after his baptism, I was transferred to another area and lost contact with the family. All I could do was hope and pray that they would stay active in the Church.
Later I learned that the small community where the Gumabay family lived had a branch and then a ward. Brother Gumabay was called to be the bishop of that ward. I also learned that most of his relatives had joined the Church.
When I eventually returned to visit my old missionary area, I learned that many people had joined the Church there because of the good example of Bishop Gumabay, who had put his life in the hands of the Lord and placed Him at the helm of his family and daily activities.
I am so grateful we listened to the promptings of the Spirit to visit the Gumabay home. Through this experience I came to comprehend what the Lord meant when He said, “They that be whole need not a physician, but they that are sick” (Matthew 9:12).

Examples of the enabling power are not found only in the scriptures. Daniel W. Jones was born in 1830 in Missouri, and he joined the Church in California in 1851. In 1856 he participated in the rescue of handcart companies that were stranded in Wyoming by severe snowstorms. After the rescue party had found the suffering Saints, provided what immediate comfort they could, and made arrangements for the sick and the feeble to be transported to Salt Lake City, Daniel and several other young men volunteered to remain with and safeguard the company’s possessions. The food and supplies left with Daniel and his colleagues were meager and rapidly expended. The following quote from Daniel Jones’s personal journal describes the events that followed.
“Game soon became so scarce that we could kill nothing. We ate all the poor meat; one would get hungry eating it. Finally that was all gone, nothing now but hides were left. We made a trial of them. A lot was cooked and eaten without any seasoning and it made the whole company sick. …
“Things looked dark, for nothing remained but the poor raw hides taken from starved cattle. We asked the Lord to direct us what to do. The brethren did not murmur, but felt to trust in God. … Finally I was impressed how to fix the stuff and gave the company advice, telling them how to cook it; for them to scorch and scrape the hair off; this had a tendency to kill and purify the bad taste that scalding gave it. After scraping, boil one hour in plenty of water, throwing the water away which had extracted all the glue, then wash and scrape the hide thoroughly, washing in cold water, then boil to a jelly and let it get cold, and then eat with a little sugar sprinkled on it. This was considerable trouble, but we had little else to do and it was better than starving.
“We asked the Lord to bless our stomachs and adapt them to this food. … On eating now all seemed to relish the feast. We were three days without eating before this second attempt was made. We enjoyed this sumptuous fare for about six weeks.”3
In those circumstances I probably would have prayed for something else to eat: “Heavenly Father, please send me a quail or a buffalo.” It likely would not have occurred to me to pray that my stomach would be strengthened and adapted to the food we had. What did Daniel W. Jones know? He knew about the enabling power of the Atonement of Jesus Christ. He did not pray that his circumstances would be changed. He prayed that he would be strengthened to deal with his circumstances. Just as Alma and his people, Amulek, and Nephi were strengthened, Daniel W. Jones had the spiritual insight to know what to ask for in that prayer.

I had a wonderful childhood growing up in Hilo. I was a fearless, determined tomboy. I was the kickball champ in my neighborhood, I climbed guava trees, burned rubbish in the backyard, and I climbed down the very steep banks to the Wailuku River and caught frogs and crayfish with my brothers. But there is one memory that is not a pleasant one.

When I was 13 years old, my father bought an old faded light blue Plymouth clunker for $50. No one used it and this car sat at the bottom of our long, sloping driveway for weeks. One day, I decided that I could learn to drive this car by myself. I got the key and started it up. I soon learned that the clutch needed to be stepped in to keep the car from jerking forward.

Soon I learned to reverse the car. Up and down the driveway I went, feeling so grown up and capable. Soon I had my little 6 year old sister and 5 neighbor children in the backseat squealing with delight. Up and down the driveway we went. Meanwhile, my mother discovered what I was doing and she ran out of the house and stood frantically on the porch by the kitchen door saying, "Sally, abunai! Dangerous! Stop! Please, stop!" Did I stop? No! It was too much fun and of course, I knew what I was doing.

I reversed the car up the hill again and this time, the clutch came out too fast and my right foot pressed on the gas pedal. The car quickly jerked backwards, went off the driveway and crashed into the dining room of our home. The glass windows cracked. The back of the car was in the dining room! The children were frightened. No one was hurt but it caused my mother such turmoil and it cost a lot to fix the house. Why did this happen? Because I did not keep the rules. I did not listen to the warnings and obey.

CHARLIE: I came home early from my mission about six months ago because I was experiencing extreme anxiety and doubt about the Church. I was struggling to find the foundational doctrines I once knew were true. I felt alone and distant from everything I had once loved.

I felt the only way to build up my faith was to work in the Temple. The first day working in the temple was especially difficult for me. I had never been in more pain than I was that morning. I was extremely nervous because I didn’t feel worthy to be inside the temple and I was so scared for what this day was going to bring.

I cannot describe the feelings of overwhelming love, peace, and joy that I felt as soon as I walked through the temple doors. I felt closer to Christ than I have ever felt before, and I discovered, in that life changing moment, that the Temple is the only place where I can completely forget my struggles and focus 100% on my love for the Lord. There is no place that I have ever felt the love of God more purely than walking into His temple that morning.

Four months later, I can see how it has changed my life every day. I know that as you start going to the temple regularly, you will begin to see the same everyday miracles I see and the temple will change your life the same way it has changed mine.

Illustrations by Bradley H. Clark
On January 12, 2010, Heavenly Father showed me His power after a four-story concrete building collapsed around and on me following a terrible earthquake that devastated Haiti.
While I was crying out under the weight of the rubble, a peaceful voice spoke to me: “Jimy, why don’t you pray instead of shout?”
I couldn’t stop shouting, however, because I was afraid I was going to die within a few minutes. The voice, which sounded like a good friend motivated by a great desire to help, spoke to me again: “Jimy, you must pray.”
The pain in my legs was becoming unbearable, and I was running out of oxygen in the darkness that surrounded me. The voice came one more time: “Jimy, you must pray.”
At that moment I stopped resisting. In a feeble voice I said: “Heavenly Father, Thou knowest my strength, and Thou knowest how long I can bear this pain. I ask Thee, please take this pain from me. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
Immediately after uttering this simple prayer, I fell asleep. I don’t remember what happened after that, but when I awoke from a profound sleep, the pain was gone. A short while later, rescuers found me as they searched for victims among the ruins of my office building.
Afterward I learned that of the five employees on the second floor of the Port-au-Prince building where I worked, I was the only one who came out of the debris alive. Because of my injuries, I lost one of my legs and spent several months in the hospital. But I know that the Holy Ghost prompted me to pray and that Heavenly Father answered that prayer.
I can testify that Heavenly Father answers our prayers in His own way and according to His own desires—wherever we are and whenever we pray.

Until I was in my thirties, I thought the Atonement was basically for sinners—meaning that it allowed us to repent. But then I suffered a heartbreaking personal loss and began to learn that there was so much more to this sublime doctrine.

My solution initially to my heartbreak was to exercise so much faith that the Lord would have to give me what I wanted—which was a husband. Believe me, if fasting and prayer and temple attendance automatically resulted in a husband, I’d have one.

Well, the Lord hasn’t even yet given me a husband; but He did heal my heart. And in doing so, He taught me that He not only paid the price for sin but compensated for all of the pain we experience in life. He taught me that because of His Atonement, we have access to His grace, or enabling power—power that frees us from sin; power to be healed emotionally, physically, and spiritually; power to “loose the bands of death” (Alma 7:12); power to turn weakness into strength (see Ether 12:27); and power to receive salvation through faith on His name (see Mosiah 3:19). It is because of the Atonement that, if we build our foundation on Christ, the devil can have no power over us (see Helaman 5:12).

Before leaving Nauvoo in the winter of 1846, President Brigham Young had a dream in which he saw an angel standing on a cone-shaped hill somewhere in the West pointing to a valley below. When he entered the Salt Lake Valley some 18 months later, he saw just above the location where we are now gathered the same hillside prominence he had seen in vision.
As has often been told from this pulpit, Brother Brigham led a handful of leaders to the summit of that hill and proclaimed it Ensign Peak, a name filled with religious meaning for these modern Israelites. Twenty-five hundred years earlier the prophet Isaiah had declared that in the last days “the mountain of the Lord’s house shall be established in the top of the mountains,” and there “he shall set up an ensign for the nations.”1
Seeing their moment in history as partial fulfillment of that prophecy, the Brethren wished to fly a banner of some kind to make the idea of “an ensign for the nations” literal. Elder Heber C. Kimball produced a yellow bandana. Brother Brigham tied it to a walking stick carried by Elder Willard Richards and then planted the makeshift flag, declaring the valley of the Great Salt Lake and the mountains surrounding it as that prophesied place from which the word of the Lord would go forth in the latter days.

When Elder Quentin L. Cook was 15 years old, he had a talk with his big brother, Joe. Joe was trying to decide if he should go to medical school instead of going on a mission. They talked long into the night. They talked about the gospel. They talked about testimonies. They talked about serving a mission.
Joe knew that going to medical school and becoming a doctor was a good way to help people. But he also knew that Jesus Christ truly lived, that Joseph Smith was really a prophet, and that the Book of Mormon was really true. So he knew that going on a mission first would be a better choice. Quentin learned that night that his brother Joe had a strong testimony.

Third, we can recount meaningful moments. Here is a brief story written by my father about a moment in his childhood. When he retired, instead of sitting on a rocking chair and watching TV, he learned to type, took college writing classes, and read his stories over the radio. He is now working on a series of novels. Notice how he tenderly picks up the voice of himself as a child in this story, and how the child, in his own tender way, comes to feel the concerns of his parents.
Mama told me not to go upstairs in that bedroom—the one across from mine. She told me that, but I was only three, and she didn’t tell me why. I wanted to see. I knew baby Carter was in that room, so why couldn’t I go see?
Dee and Beth were on the living room floor [looking] at toys in the Christmas catalog. They kept the book all for them because they were older and bigger. They made it so I couldn’t see, and I didn’t like them. I went to the end of the room to get away, and I sat where the stairs turn to go up, and I watched them. Cleo couldn’t see the pictures good either. She was bigger than me, but she cried more, and she went for Mama to hold her. Mama always had something to sew, but this time she was on a rocker chair, by the barrel stove, just to be warm and look at the wall across the room. Cleo wanted Mama to hold her and squeak the rocking chair, so that she could stop crying and suck her thumb. Papa got a chunk of coal and put it in the barrel stove to keep the fire going.
When no one looked, I sneaked up to the room. It was cold in the room. There was nothing there but a dresser at the side of the door, with a wood box that Papa made sitting on top of it. I pulled the drawers out to make steps to go up like a ladder, and I climbed my way up. I reached up and held on the edge of the box so I could stand on a drawer and be tall enough to reach in.
I put my hand way down in. And my fingers touched something like skin, but it was cold and I jerked back. I knew it was baby Carter. I was sure it was. There was no other place in the room for him to be. But he was cold. Why was he so cold? And why wasn’t he crying?
I climbed down fast. I almost fell over the drawers. I ran out the door and down the stairs, but I hung onto the rail so I wouldn’t fall. Then I went slow so they wouldn’t know I was gone. I sat on a step to look through the spindles at Papa and Mama, so I could think.
Why isn’t Carter crying? Carter didn’t cry all day. Why isn’t Papa playing with Carter? Papa always plays with Carter in the evening. Why doesn’t Mama get Carter and nurse him like before? Why doesn’t Mama get Carter and bring him down here where it’s warm, and hold him and kiss him?
Do they know he’s cold?

Many years ago my husband, Ken, and I moved to Provo, Utah, so he could attend Brigham Young University. Before our move, Ken had traveled there, bought a mobile home, and arranged for water, gas, and electricity to be turned on when we moved in.
We arrived in Provo on a cold December night. All our belongings were packed in the back of a rental truck. We were tired and tense from the long trip. Six months pregnant, I was feeling the effects of cleaning, packing, and traveling. Shawna, our 15-month-old daughter, was tired and crying.
As we opened the door to our home, a blast of cold air greeted us. The electricity and water had been turned on, but for some reason the gas had not. Too exhausted to do anything else, we put a mattress on the floor and plugged in an electric blanket to keep us warm. We tried to sleep with our daughter between us, but she cried most of the night. When morning came we were almost as tired as when we had gone to bed.
After we unloaded the truck, Ken left to return it, check with the gas company, and arrange for a phone to be installed. I dressed Shawna in her snowsuit. Then I placed her in her highchair to play with a few toys while I started to unpack the boxes.
When I unpacked our electric frying pan, I decided to heat water in it to wash out the cupboards. As I turned on the kitchen sink, the faucet came off and water shot up into the air. I tried to turn off the water valve under the sink but could not get it to turn. Frantically, I searched for the water shutoff valve for the house. By the time I found it, the kitchen and living room were flooded.
As I desperately started moving boxes out of the water, Shawna sensed panic and began to scream. Carrying her with one of my arms, I continued trying to lift boxes with the other arm.
At that moment I started into premature labor. Now I was truly panicked. I didn’t know anyone in the neighborhood, and I didn’t have a phone to call for help. Desperately I prayed, “Heavenly Father, please help me!”
I’ll never forget the knock that came at the door minutes later. The woman standing there was shivering, with soapsuds up to her elbows. She introduced herself as Amalia Van Tassel, the branch Relief Society president, and told me the Spirit had sent her.
I would later learn that Amalia had been standing at her sink washing dishes when she felt prompted to check on the new family who had just moved in. Sensing that it was urgent, she called to her oldest daughter to watch her other children and, without even stopping to dry her hands or grab her coat, ran to my door.
Amalia had me lie down, comforted Shawna, cleaned up all she could, and invited our family to dinner. She brought light, safety, and comfort into that dark December day. Rest stopped my premature labor, Ken fixed the sink, the gas man turned the gas on, and portable electric heaters dried the soaked carpet.
I have always been grateful to Heavenly Father for answering my prayer that day and for the loving Relief Society president who quickly followed the promptings of the Holy Spirit.