Gospel Story Finder

A few months after I received my endowment, I was driving in a blazing hot car with a friend when he pointed out that the shorts I was wearing were really long.
“Aren’t you hot?” he asked.
“I sure am,” I answered cheerfully.
We both laughed.
“But knowing you, you wouldn’t wear shorter shorts even if you weren’t wearing garments now. You’ve always been super modest,” he said teasingly.
I considered that statement.
“You’re correct,” I said, laughing.
But truthfully, I found his statement a bit unsettling. What did he mean by “super” modest? Had I been taking modesty to an extreme? Did he think I was weird?
And beneath that question were more questions that I had been considering for a while but had been too afraid to ask: Why was I so committed to dressing modestly? Did it really help me become a better disciple of Christ? Did it even matter?
Some of us may have questions about modesty, especially about what it has to do with our discipleship. But as we seek guidance through the Spirit, we can begin to understand the why behind this commandment.
When I had questions about modesty and was feeling pressure from the world to lower my standards, I took my questions to Heavenly Father. Little by little, I remembered many instances where choosing to be modest—in both appearance and behavior—blessed my life immensely.
Here are just a few of the blessings that I have experienced from embracing the principle of modesty.
Our bodies are sacred vessels for our spiritual selves and serve as tangible reminders of how perfectly we are loved by our Heavenly Father. It is a true privilege to have a body, as it allows us to become like Him. When we consider that miraculous and incomprehensible truth, why wouldn’t we be confident in who we are?
If you take a moment to look around, you’ll notice that, because of the adversary, the world showcases bodies differently than Heavenly Father intended. They are criticized and compared, and immodesty is often glorified. The world wants to convince us that behaving and dressing a certain way will help us fit in and feel more self-assured than ever before. But the confidence that stems from this is fleeting.
Lasting confidence comes from understanding our divine identities—realizing that our bodies are sacred instruments through which we get to experience life, not ornaments to be adorned by the world.1
In Doctrine and Covenants 121:45, the Lord teaches, “Let virtue garnish thy thoughts unceasingly; then shall thy confidence wax strong in the presence of God.”
And it’s true! When we have modest, virtuous thoughts, they are reflected in our behavior, language, and appearance, and we can experience true self-assurance.
At times, my temporal desires have been at odds with modesty, like wanting to wear certain clothes to feel attractive or longing to fit in by acting a certain way. But as I came to truly comprehend my divine identity, I wanted to represent that truth, and behaving and dressing modestly eventually became second nature to me. And my self-confidence grew as well—after all, true confidence has little to do with our appearance and more to do with living in a way that reflects our divine identity.
When seen as rules, the commandments of the gospel can seem restricting. But when we focus on Heavenly Father’s eternal perspective and love for us, we can build our testimony on the truth that His commandments are meant to protect and bless us. They stem from His perfect love.2
In pondering how modesty had blessed my life, I once considered the question President M. Russell Ballard, Acting President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, asked regarding our love for God versus the things of the world. He said, “How would we answer the question ‘Lovest thou me more than these?’”3
I realized that the world may be filled with temptations, but when I consider what Heavenly Father and the Savior have done for me out of love, choosing to be modest is one thing I can do to show Them love in return. Modesty is a reflection of my inner commitment to Them, and as I continue to show my devotion, I feel myself deepening my relationship with Them, which is a blessing on its own.
Elder D. Todd Christofferson of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles taught: “His commandments are not grievous—just the opposite. They mark the path of healing, happiness, peace, and joy. … And in obeying Their commandments, we feel Their perfect love more fully and more profoundly.”4
And we read in 1 Nephi that God’s love is “most joyous to the soul” (1 Nephi 11:23; see also verse 22). When we choose to follow the commandments, including modesty, we are able to feel His love and partake of the fruits of the gospel of Jesus Christ, which is the source of true joy.
Dressing or behaving like the majority of the world might allow me to feel happiness for a moment, and I’ve felt that temptation at times. But I am most joyful when I strive to keep the commandments and my covenants, because doing so allows me to feel Heavenly Father’s perfect love.
During that conversation with my friend, I assumed he thought I was a bit of a prude. But several years later, this friend actually became my husband, and he explained that he always appreciated how my commitment to Christ was reflected in my appearance, language, and actions.
Choosing modesty won’t always be easy, because “the voices and pressures of the world are engaging and numerous.”5 But I know the blessings and joy I receive when I embrace modesty are worth so much more than anything the world can offer me.
If you have questions about modesty, I invite you to seek personal revelation and consider how it has blessed your life. And remember, let’s not judge others’ worthiness according to their choices regarding modesty. As we choose to embrace modesty, let’s offer compassion to others—the same compassion the Savior offers us.
Modesty is one of the greatest ways we can learn to treasure our true identities, come closer to Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ, and feel joy in our lives. It has been for me, and I know it can be for you too.

As part of his redeeming power, Jesus can remove the sting of death or restore the spiritual health of a struggling soul. The scriptures are filled with examples, but a young Korean sister indelibly taught me this lesson. In early 1994, while attending a stake conference in Seoul, Korea, I met Kim Young Hee, a young woman in her twenties. I noticed her beautiful countenance as she sat in a wheelchair on the stand waiting to speak. When her turn came, a brother pushed her chair to the front of the stand but off to the side of the pulpit so she could see and be seen. He gave her a microphone, and she told us her story.

As a young woman, she was healthy, had an excellent job, and was content with life. She was not a Christian. In 1987 she was in a terrible car accident that left her paralyzed from the waist down. Following her recovery in a hospital, she returned to her parents’ home wondering what life held for her. She was despondent and empty. One day a knock came at the door. Her mother answered, and two American women asked to share a message about Jesus Christ. The mother was hesitant, but the daughter heard the voices and invited them in. They were missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Kim Young Hee accepted the invitation to receive the missionary lessons. She read the Book of Mormon, prayed about its truthfulness, attended church, and received a witness of the divinity of the Restoration. She was baptized.

As she bore her testimony in stake conference, she said: “I know that Heavenly Father does not look on the outward appearance but on the heart. I also know that the true miracle is the healing within, the change of heart, the loss of pride. Although my physical body may not be healed in mortality, my spirit has felt the healing power of the Holy Ghost. And in the Resurrection, a fully restored, perfect physical body will again house my spirit, and I will receive a fulness of joy.”

Question #3, What are you most grateful for as you contemplate your growing up?
This question requires many answers. First I am grateful for a father who adored my mother. He showed it in a hundred ways. We children knew that we would bring down on our heads father's wrath if we ever spoke disrespectfully to our mother. In this present so-called liberated generation, most men do not grow up knowing how to treat a woman. I watched from an early age how a father should behave in a home and how a man should love his wife.

Mom was a public person. She was a Merrilee Webb kind of woman, immensely talented in teaching children how to sing, putting on productions, operettas, concerts. One evening I came home late from school to find my father still in his service station uniform doing the supper dishes. Mom was out at a practice somewhere. I complained to dad and said, "Daddy, why don't you make Mom do her own dishes. That's her job." Those were not sarcastic words. I had a genuine appreciation of how long and hard my father worked. I felt pity for him. Somehow it seemed unmanly that he should do housework too. He looked at me and said, "Listen, Sonny, I know how to do dishes, but I can't teach children how to sing. Let your mother bless the community with her talent and you come and help me with these dishes."

This was graphically brought to my mind through an experience of my 16-year-old niece. Teriann was going through a stage. She hated Sunday School. She said her teacher was deadly dull. She didn’t like seminary. Sacrament meeting was boring, and she couldn’t stand family home evening because she had two brothers who were several years younger and had interests different than hers.
Teriann became really obnoxious. She was totally disruptive on Monday nights and it just kept getting worse. Teriann said, “Why can’t I just stop going to Church things? I’m not getting anything out of them anyway.”
After considerable discussion, her parents finally agreed that Teriann could stay home from her meetings for a certain trial period. Her father and mother felt that perhaps the release of the pressure of having to go would give her a chance to reflect on the real blessings of the gospel. One Sunday came and went, the most peaceful Sunday they had had for weeks. Monday night Teriann studied while the family met.
By Tuesday, however, while her father was praying about this problem, he had a distinct witness of the Spirit. Although he didn’t know what the solution should be, he knew that what he was doing was not the answer. Teriann’s father discussed these deep-seated feelings with his wife, who respected them. They decided to tell Teriann.
Teriann felt betrayed and wronged. She said, “You made an agreement and already you’re changing your mind—it hasn’t even been a week yet. How can you do this to me?”
What do you think her parents could say to her? A very wise mother said, “Teriann, the Lord must love you very much in order to not let us go even one week in the wrong direction.” This impressed her. She became quiet and her defensiveness was gone.
Then her dad said, “I don’t know the direction we should go. I only know that what we are doing is wrong. If we will fast and pray about this, then we will know what to do.” Teriann joined her parents in a special fast.
They were then able to discuss the situation realistically, and her parents made an agreement that Teriann could leave sacrament meeting after the sacrament had been passed, if the speaker was boring. Teriann only left sacrament meeting once after that. She found out she really didn’t hate seminary, and a change in the format of family home evening took care of Monday evenings.
This experience helped Teriann appreciate the real blessing of the gospel, and to know that the Lord loved her as an individual. A knowledge of God’s love for us is a blessing far above the benefits of the world’s royalty. Know that the Lord loves you too, very much.

Recently I visited with Relief Society leaders who have many single women in their stake. The Relief Society president began our conversation by saying, “Sister Jack, our single women are a real problem for us.” What I noticed immediately was the labeling of all single women as a problem. But this good president did not realize what she had said. She continued, “I feel our singles bring so many of their problems on themselves.”
I asked, “Have you talked with any of your sisters who are single about their problems?”
She said, “Well, no. Not formally. But the ward presidents bring me reports, and I never feel very warm or good when I speak to them. I don’t think they want to speak with me.”
“When have you spoken to these single sisters? Are any of them your friends?” I queried.
“Not really. I do speak to singles at stake conference or at stake leadership meeting. But, as I said, that’s always so unsatisfying,” she responded.
I asked further, “Have you invited any of the singles in leadership positions to discuss their points of view in your meetings so all the sisters might get better acquainted with them?”
“I have never thought of doing anything like that,” she responded.
My friends, do you get the point? This very conscientious president does not know these sisters as individuals. It’s no wonder she calls these sisters “them.” Not one of them is her friend. Not one has been asked to participate in a meeting.

by Kim R. Burningham
When the teenagers of the Bountiful 29th Ward speak of their grandparents, the listener could get confused. True, they might be referring to their mother’s parents or their father’s parents, but they might also be talking about their “adopted” grandparents.
The bishopric youth committee of the ward decided to embark on what has turned out to be an exciting service project. Near the ward are two care centers where a large number of aging patients reside. Some of the patients have no family, or if they do, the family lives some distance away from the care center and is unable to visit often. It was decided that if every young person in the ward were to adopt one of the patients as a “grandparent,” the young people could provide some much-needed companionship for the lonely patients.
Youth in the ward try to visit their “grandparents” at least once a week. Sometimes they play chess with them or read to them. Often they just talk. The grandparents love to reminisce, and they are happy for the new friends. When Kim Bailey and Julie Bradford were visiting with Billy, a semiretarded patient at the care center, he looked up at them and said simply, “Do you mind if I like you?” Julie and Kim found that it was easy to be friends.
Members of the Beehive class and several of the other girls have quilted lap blankets for their grandparents. Shelley Moss took the quilt to her grandmother for a Christmas present. “When she received it we all cried, and it made the whole adopt-a-grandparent program worthwhile. Now every time I go to Della, my quilt is folded nicely on the edge of the bed.”
Kathleen Kirkham, president of the Mia Maid class, explained that “many of our class members are at the point where they don’t have to go to visit their grandparents, but they want to go.”
Tuevo Jones, a priest, said that “although it may seem a bit of a bother, I always walk out of the care center with a better feeling than when I went in.”

A personal bump in the road for me was when an employer for whom I had worked for several years, made a decision to select an outside candidate for an executive position for which I was a prime candidate. This news devastated me and the results of that decision and how I chose to deal with it reverberated through our family and resulted in unanticipated changes in our lives. An interesting comment I received from the consultants, whom I recommended we hire for this engagement, as we discussed the decision was, "Organizations Survive, People Don't" . Had my long term goals been tied only to achieving this position and the benefits associated with it, I would have taken this disappointment even harder. However, with my understanding who I was and the bigger picture, I fought through this and moved on.

Some years ago in our meetinghouse in Darmstadt, Germany, a group of brethren was asked to move a grand piano from the chapel to the adjoining cultural hall, where it was needed for a musical event. None were professional movers, and the task of getting that gravity-friendly instrument through the chapel and into the cultural hall seemed nearly impossible. Everybody knew that this task required not only physical strength but also careful coordination. There were plenty of ideas, but not one could keep the piano balanced correctly. They repositioned the brethren by strength, height, and age over and over again—nothing worked.
As they stood around the piano, uncertain of what to do next, a good friend of mine, Brother Hanno Luschin, spoke up. He said, “Brethren, stand close together and lift where you stand.”
It seemed too simple. Nevertheless, each lifted where he stood, and the piano rose from the ground and moved into the cultural hall as if on its own power. That was the answer to the challenge. They merely needed to stand close together and lift where they stood.

Illustration by Brad Teare
Isabel set the table with special plates and napkins. The smell of her favorite rolls filled the house. But she didn’t feel hungry. She wished she could skip dinner and play with her two chameleons, Flicker and Blink, instead. Or at least play with Flicker. Blink wouldn’t come out from under the leaves in her cage. She was shy.
Isabel felt shy today too. She’d never met anyone from Russia, and now three people from Russia were coming to dinner! What if she couldn’t understand them? Isabel wished she could hide like Blink.
Isabel’s older sister, Amelia, set out the cups. “Are you excited to meet my friend Natalia?” Amelia asked.
“No,” said Isabel. “How am I going to talk to her?”
Amelia raised her eyebrows. “The same way you talk to me.”
“But Natalia speaks Russian.”
“Natalia speaks our language too,” said Amelia. “So does her dad. Her mom only knows a few words, but she’s learning.”
Isabel decided she would stay away from Natalia’s mom.
The doorbell rang, and Amelia ran to answer it. Isabel could see Natalia and her parents waiting on the porch. Natalia’s dad held a bowl of salad. Her mom had a big, friendly smile.
Isabel spent dinner hunched in her seat so only her head poked over the edge of the table. She didn’t know what to say, so she didn’t say anything.
Natalia’s mom didn’t say anything either, but she smiled and nodded. Sometimes Natalia translated for her.
After dinner Isabel slipped away and wandered over to Flicker and Blink’s cage. To her surprise, Natalia and her mom followed. Inside the cage, Blink scuttled under her leaf again.
“Can I see?” said Natalia, pointing to the cage. Isabel nodded. She reached into the cage and Flicker climbed onto her hand. She handed him to Natalia.
Flicker licked Natalia’s hand. Isabel laughed. So did Natalia’s mom.
Isabel reached in the cage again, but Blink wouldn’t come out. “Come on, Blink,” Isabel said. “You’re missing all the fun.”
Natalia’s mom said something to Natalia in Russian.
“She wants to help you get the lizard,” Natalia said to Isabel.
Natalia’s mom placed her hand out flat. It looked like she was asking Isabel to move her hand next to Blink’s hiding spot. Isabel thought about how Blink was missing out by hiding.
I’m not going to be like Blink, Isabel thought. She looked at Natalia’s mom and then held out her hand. Natalia’s mom placed a drop of water and some of Blink’s food on Isabel’s hand.
Blink turned her big eyes toward the food. Her tiny green leg stretched onto Isabel’s open palm. “Good,” said Natalia’s mom. Blink’s tail curled in a loop, and her tiny feet tickled Isabel’s arm.
When it was time for Natalia’s family to go home, Natalia’s mom waved at Isabel and smiled. “Poka,” she said.
“That’s Russian for ‘bye,’” whispered Amelia.
It didn’t matter if Natalia’s family didn’t speak the same language she did. They could still understand each other. And maybe she could learn some Russian for the next time they came to dinner.
Isabel grinned and waved back at Natalia’s mom. “Poka!”

I began my college studies at a university about 100 miles (160 km) from home. It was an exciting time for all the freshman students. Many were living away from home for the first time and were eager to express their newfound freedom from parental oversight.
I was on the university basketball team, and it quickly became known that I was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. During the first weeks of the semester, one of my teammates invited me to a Saturday night party for new students to be held in the desert outside the city. I asked if the party would include alcohol and was assured that it would not. I felt uncomfortable with this response but decided to attend nonetheless. A blind date was arranged for me with the assurance that she had the same standards I had. My teammate explained that we would use his car.
That Saturday night we drove some distance into the desert and found the party. To my great disappointment, drinking alcohol was the principal activity, notwithstanding the fact that the legal drinking age in the state was three years above the age of most of the freshman students. My date couldn’t wait to begin drinking, along with my teammate and his date. When I voiced disappointment, they said I needed to “grow up and live a little” and that they would help me. I told them that I had never drunk alcohol and that I was not going to start then. They soon left me so they could join the others.
I sat alone, apart from the drinking and boisterous laughter, without transportation to leave, wondering why I had gotten myself into this mess. Later in the night, I saw a line of car headlights coming through the desert toward the party. The cars encircled the group, and then, as if on signal, lights began flashing on the top of what I then recognized as police cars. Many students attempted to run into the desert but were quickly apprehended. I remained where I was, perplexed by the developments.
The police began checking identification to determine the ages of the students, giving breath tests to those below the legal drinking age to determine if they had been drinking. When they came to me, I told an officer that I had not drunk alcohol that night or ever. He laughed at me, but when I firmly stated that he could believe me, his countenance changed. He told me that I did not have to take the test and directed me to drive my teammate’s car back to the university. Those who were underage and drinking were cited and required to pay fines. Some were taken to jail.
I, however, left with no police record and arrived home at about 3:00 a.m. on Sunday morning. Priesthood meeting in my ward began at 7:00 a.m. My alarm sounded at 6:45 a.m. I turned it off and rolled over, thinking for a few moments of all the reasons not to attend that morning. But spiritually, I couldn’t rest. I arose, dressed in my Sunday clothes, and walked to the chapel, arriving about 10 minutes after the meeting had begun.
As I walked into the chapel, my heart leaped as I recognized the back of my father’s head. He had come to visit me, unannounced. I slipped in beside him and sat down. He looked at me and smiled. Then, putting his hand firmly on my knee, he leaned over and whispered a message with meaning far beyond words: “I knew I would find you here, Son.” Simultaneously, Heavenly Father whispered the same message to my soul. I can’t adequately describe the love and joy I felt at that moment.
A few months later I was on my mission. A few months after that, I received word that my father had died unexpectedly. The message I received from him and through him that Sunday, however, has never left me.
When my teammate misrepresented the party’s activities, I felt a spiritual unrest that I did not heed. When confronted with that reality, I was more disappointed with myself than with my teammate. But keeping myself apart from the crowd brought spiritual comfort and later temporal benefit when the police allowed me to return home.
However, the greatest blessing of liberty came when, in the privacy of my dormitory room early Sunday morning, I chose to be where I should be, not knowing beforehand the treasure that awaited me there. Such experiences, accompanied by the ministration of the Spirit, foreshadow the liberty associated with the blessing of eternal life.

President Spencer W. Kimball was a friend of the Savior. When he was in the hospital ready to undergo open-heart surgery, his bed was being wheeled down the hall and into the operating room by a young hospital attendant. The young man accidentally smashed his finger in the door frame. He was in pain, and he took the name of the Savior in vain. President Kimball, although already sedated, opened his eyes and gently rebuked the attendant: “Young man, don’t say that; He’s my best friend!”

A grouchy neighbor became a friend to one family who chose to serve him rather than take offense. “We felt prompted to go over as a family and offer Mr. Sloan some service,” says the father. “We took him some homemade bread and washed his outside windows because they were hard for him to reach.
“The children claimed they had never seen him smile before. But they’ve seen that smile a lot since that day. Bobby, seven, collects Mr. Sloan’s mail for him every day after school. Susie, twelve, walks Mr. Sloan’s dog on a leash around the block. And Peter, fifteen, mows his lawn.
“Serving Mr. Sloan has taught our family to love him, and we think he has learned to love us.”

The Saints in Johannesburg reach out to each other and to those around them. For example, when the house of Ross’s friend Tumi flooded, many friends from church helped clean up the water and cheer up the family. “This was a turning point for Tumi’s mom, who wasn’t a member,” explains Ross. “She started seeing the missionaries, and today she is a member and a Relief Society teacher.” Such loving watchcare is fairly typical, as the South African members see each other as brothers and sisters. “We involve ourselves as though it was our problem,” Ross says.

It was around this time that Leonie joined the Church. Her growing faith and love of the gospel sustained her through even greater difficulties.
Only a few years after her baptism, she found herself a single parent with four children still at home and a mother-in-law in her care. For the first time since her wedding almost 30 years earlier, Leonie needed to find work.
All the while, Leonie’s testimony of Heavenly Father and the Saviour increased. She was a dedicated disciple of Jesus Christ and His restored gospel; and had faith in priesthood power and the wonderful blessings it brought to her and to her family.
In 1976, Leonie moved her family to Adelaide to be near her oldest (married) daughter, where Lisa said, “we were supported by a wonderful ward, a loving bishop and great home teachers.” Leonie accepted a calling there as the Relief Society president, which initially intimidated her. But “she exercised her faith and did a wonderful job,” recalled Lisa. Leonie’s testimony of the gospel was continually strengthened as she served many other callings in the ward before she was called as a temple worker at the Adelaide Australia Temple. Through the faith she had, Leonie was able to remember all she needed to remember for that sacred role. “She loved her years of working at the temple,” says Lisa, and her mum especially enjoyed when family members attended while she was serving.
Some of Leonie’s greatest successes were at home with her family. She set a wonderful example of daily prayer and scripture reading, and she kept a journal since 1981. Leonie delighted in witnessing her children and grandchildren serve missions, get sealed to their spouses in the temple, have their own children, and participate in the work of the Lord through various leadership callings. This reflected her favourite scripture, found in 3 John 1:4 “I have no greater joy than to hear that my children walk in truth.”
In her 50s she moved in with her daughter’s family, and Leonie faithfully continued to serve and to love. As one grandson remembers, “There was never a Christmas, an Easter or a birthday when all of the grandchildren [didn’t] received something from Nana. She never forgot . . . we all knew through her kindness and actions that she loved each and every one of us.”
In a final act of motherly devotion, just before she died, Leonie wrote special, personal letters to each of her five children and their families. The discovery of these letters after Leonie passed away was a wonderful and profound surprise that touched their hearts at a very tender time.
She was known by many names throughout her life: Leonie, Mum, Nana, Sister Bennallack . . . but perhaps her greatest triumph as a mother is that “her children [continue to] arise up and call her blessed.” (Proverbs 31:28)

Ryan and His Rescue When our youngest son, Ryan, was almost 12 years old, I had surgery on my back. Unfortunately, the surgery went wrong and I was worse off than before. I was told I would need a second surgery to remove some disc fragments in my spine. The pain in my back and leg was terrific and I was bed ridden for some time. Just when I was feeling my worst and anticipating anxiously a second surgery, Ryan came home from school with a serious pain in his abdomen.

Ross had been sharing time with my mother in caring for the children after work and also taking care of my needs. In the evening, Ryan’s abdominal pain became worse and Ross thought he might be having an attack of appendicitis. Reluctantly, he left me alone and took Ryan to the hospital emergency room.

They tested Ryan’s blood to see if his white cell count was elevated—a typical check for appendicitis. Strangely, the white count was almost normal. The doctor was puzzled because the pain in his abdomen seemed so characteristic of appendicitis. The doctor and Ross agreed that Ryan should go to surgery and remove the appendix. Ross waited alone in the surgical waiting room for a long time, occasionally calling me on the phone and reporting what was happening (or not happening, as the case may be). After an unusually long period of time, the doctor came to Ross. He carried a sponge with some of the tissue he had removed from Ryan in his hand. He told Ross: “well, this is the appendix and it is normal but I see in this boy a much more serious problem. It looks to me like there is necrosis in the large intestine.” He told Ross to consult a specialist as soon as possible.

I was beside myself. I was bedridden and unable to move. I could not even go to see Ryan in the Hospital. The prospect of a more serious disease in Ryan was much more troubling than my own condition. I prayed intensely that the Lord would rescue Ryan. Ross stayed at the hospital all night with Ryan and I laid awake in the dark—stuck in my bed.

The next day, a specialist was consulted and she came to Ryan’s room only to find him curled up in fetal position with pain and virtually unable to move. She performed some testing and examinations and after some hours, she told Ross that she thought Ryan had Crones Disease. She sat on the bed next to Ryan and explained that his condition was not curable and would be life-altering for Ryan. He could expect to have a rigidly restricted diet; have limits placed on his activities at school and that he could expect to have a colon resection several times in the next few years. She said that she would return the next day with the results of the tests on his tissue samples and would then recommend surgery to remove some of his colon immediately. Medications and therapy would follow.

When the doctor left, Ryan just cried. He said: “Dad, I don’t want this!” “What can we do?” As Ross repeated the doctor’s report to me, I anguished. I felt so helpless.

After an all night vigil, Ross gave Ryan a priesthood blessing. I was not there to hear the blessing but I know it was given by the spirit. When the doctor arrived the next morning to schedule the surgery, Ryan was standing on the bed and jumping up and down trying to catch some balloons some of his sweet primary friends had brought to him. The doctor watched him for a few minutes, astonished. At last she said: “Well, I don’t know what this kid had, but it obviously isn’t Crones Disease.” He was released to his home and to this day, he is healthy and has brought us 5 of our grandchildren.

I have often mused at the terrible confluence of events that occurred at that time. Why when I am, myself sick and bedridden was Ryan brought to this crisis? Both Ross and I anguished beyond measure as we felt so helpless in the face of a catastrophic illness in our young son’s life. Yet later, when we looked back on the circumstances, we learned this was a defining moment in our lives. When all the efforts of loving parents are exhausted and when the best medical care available is not effective, what do we do? We turned our whole hearts and soul to our Savior and placed it all in His hands. Whatever is His will, from that time forward, we know is acceptable to us.

How many times since have we faced extremely difficult challenges with our loved ones only to then remember this important event and know that as long as we are steadfast in our covenants, the Lord will do for us what is best for us. In that we have absolute confidence.

I learned this, perhaps the hard way, when I received my mission call. I hoped to be called to a mission in Germany. My dad went to Germany. My older brother went to Germany. My sister’s boyfriend—her future husband—went to Germany. I was going to Germany.

But when my call came, it read, “Dear Elder Rasband, you are hereby called to serve as a missionary for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints”—wait for it—“in the Eastern States Mission.”

I was shaken, and I knelt by my bed in prayer. I needed a testimony that I was going to the mission Heavenly Father had planned for me. Then I randomly opened my scriptures and found myself in section 100 of the Doctrine and Covenants, where I read the following verses:

Behold, and lo, I have much people in this place, in the regions round about; and an effectual door shall be opened in the regions round about in this eastern land. [That got my attention.]

Therefore, I, the Lord, have suffered you to come unto this place; for thus it was expedient in me for the salvation of souls.33

The Lord knew what He was doing. The Eastern States Mission was the perfect mission for me. I grew in the gospel on my mission. I set my sights on eternity. And, wonderfully, Sister Rasband and I returned years later as the mission leaders in that same area.

So, when you think the Lord is taking you off your track, calling you back to the bench, reordering the what and where of your life—when you think to say, “Really?” know this: We are the children of a Father in Heaven who has a place in His plan just for us. “Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding . . . , and he shall direct thy paths”34 all the way home to eternity.

Marci dropped her sleeping bag on the kitchen floor. “I was trapped!” she wailed to her mother. “Just trapped. What else could I do?”
“You really had no choice,” said Mother. “Anyway, I agree with Hoa and her parents. If you had Hoa spend the night with you, then you should be willing to spend a night with her.”
“But, Mom,” groaned Marci. “That’s different. They live in a one-bedroom apartment. Hoa, her little sister, and I will be sleeping in the front room. And that’s part of the kitchen!”
Marci didn’t expect an answer. She could hear the car in the driveway and knew Dad was waiting. Sighing, she picked up her sleeping bag. “Well, I guess I have to go. Hoa would be very hurt if I didn’t.”
As Marci entered the apartment where her friend Hoa lived, Hoa’s mother turned from the stove. “We are most glad you came, Marci. We thank you.”
Marci smiled and put her sleeping bag under the kitchen table. Hoa was pouring rice into a pot. “What are you doing,” Marci asked.
“I always fix the rice for dinner,” answered Hoa. A small face peeked from behind her legs. “This is my little sister, Truc.”
Marci knelt down and touched the little girl on the arm. “Hello, Truc,” she said. “I’ve wanted to meet you.”
Truc waved a few fingers at Marci, and Marci reached for her hand.
“She’s cute,” said Marci. “I would baby-sit her any day.”
Hoa’s mother turned around and asked, “What is ‘baby-sit?’”
“I would watch Truc for you,” answered Marci.
The mother smiled. “No need,” she said. “Where I go, Truc goes or Hoa watches her.”
“Vietnamese do not use baby-sitters,” explained Hoa. She winked at Marci. “But you baby-sit me. I always have to ask you what to do.”
Marci laughed. That was true. She had been explaining different things to her new friend for six months now, ever since Hoa had come to her school.
When the father came home, they sat down for dinner. Marci thought it was very quiet, not like dinner at her house. Everyone spoke softly, and Marci could feel her voice become quieter.
“Does your name have a meaning, Marci?” asked Hoa’s father.
“I don’t understand,” said Marci.
“Vietnamese names have another meaning,” explained Hoa. “Mine means flower. Truc means bamboo.”
Marci studied Hoa. She does look like a flower. Marci looked at Truc. She wasn’t sure she resembled bamboo. “I wish my name did have another meaning, but I don’t think the names of many people in the United States do.”
After dinner, Hoa’s mother began cooking again.
“What are you making, Mother?” asked Hoa.
“For Marci I would like to make pho,” she replied. “We will eat it in the morning.”
“Oh, good!” Hoa smiled and turned to Marci. “Pho is like a soup. It is made with beef and egg noodles. You will like it.”
Marci nodded. She was sitting on the floor and Truc was on her lap. Marci looked around the room. There were no toys. A small television set was perched on a low table, but no one seemed interested in turning it on.
“Truc, have you ever heard the story of Peter Rabbit?” asked Marci.
Truc shook her head, and Marci began the story. Then she told her the story of Cinderella. After that, she related some tales about Daniel Boone and Paul Revere. Hoa and her parents listened too. They had never heard the stories either. When Truc fell asleep, Marci looked at her watch. It was ten o’clock! Hoa’s mother took Truc away to get her ready for bed.
Hoa’s father stood up and bowed. “You are most welcome, Marci. We liked the stories. I hope you have a good time here. Goodnight.”
Marci stood up and made a slight bow back to Hoa’s father. “This is one of the best times I have ever had,” she said.
Hoa yawned and brought out a mat to spread on the floor. Marci pulled her sleeping bag from under the table and put it next to Hoa’s mat. After the girls were ready for bed, Marci crawled into her sleeping bag and looked at Hoa. The warm smell of pho filled the room. “Thank you for asking me,” she whispered. “I’m really glad I came.”

A friend—we will call him John—shared what can happen when we see another’s less visible need: “A sister in my ward attempted suicide. After two months, I discovered no one in my quorum had approached her husband to address this traumatic experience. Sadly, I had not acted either. Finally, I asked the husband to lunch. He was a shy man, often reserved. And yet when I said, ‘Your wife attempted suicide. That must be overwhelming for you. Do you want to talk about it?’ he openly wept. We had a tender and intimate conversation and developed a remarkable closeness and trust within minutes.”
John added, “I think our tendency is just to bring brownies rather than figure out how to walk into that moment with honesty and love.”

When Marie married Tony, a nonmember, she was sure that he would not long resist the beauty and grace of the church that contained the full gospel of Jesus Christ. She loved the gospel, she loved him—surely the two would naturally come together. But, as the years went by, and even after six children, Tony was no closer to becoming a member of the Church.
All this time, Marie suffered the dilemma that many active Latter-day Saint members married to less-active or nonmember spouses share. She had two loves that she couldn’t bring together.
The gospel grew to be more precious as Marie became a wife and then a mother. More than anything, she wanted to share the gospel message with her husband. At times, she wanted to shake the earth with her testimony so that he, her best friend and confidant, would suddenly understand. Her existence, as well as that of her children and husband, had been enriched by the Church’s teachings and standards. Couldn’t he see that?
Although she wanted Tony to understand her regard for the Church, she recognized that using the Church as a wedge would split, rather than solidify, her marriage. She had seen it happen before when husbands and wives tried to force the Church into their relationships, only to have anger and rebellion result.
Marie determined not to have to force a choice between the Church and her husband, making the Church her husband’s enemy. If anything, the gospel was an ally, teaching her how to love, and understand, and forgive.
She felt that, aside from one’s own personal relationship with God, a good marriage relationship was the most sacred concern of a husband and wife. She decided that converting Tony to the Church ought not be her primary goal, nor should the marriage be sacrificed to that end. “After ten years of disappointment,” she says, “I decided to stop putting pressure on Tony to join the Church. Before we were married, my parents were upset about our engagement. They tried hard to discourage us, but, from the moment we married, they ceased their opposition and gave us 100 percent of their love and support. I should have followed their good example years earlier.
“So one day I said to Tony, ‘You are more important to me than anything else, regardless of whether you join the Church.’ Since then, we have been happier, and I have felt more peaceful.
“Tony treats me well; he has good values, and he is honest. But I had been feeling sorry for myself because he wasn’t a Church member. I decided to stop complaining and start being grateful. The Church doesn’t make marriage work—love, acceptance, and trust do that. The Church is a guide, not a guarantee.”

Of all the New Eras I’ve read, I was never so happy to see one as I was last week. Here we were, sitting in our flat, my companion sick with German measles, both of us feeling like “dead fish” missionaries, when we received our first New Eras since the 19-week-old mail strike here in the Emerald Isle. And boy did they cheer us up! Especially the article “Your Life Has a Purpose.” We really felt guilty about complaining. Cheerio!
Elders Egan and ElliottIreland Dublin Mission