Gospel Story Finder

A young man approached Socrates and asked him to be his tutor and to teach him what he knew. Socrates took the young man to the seaside and out into the water. Then he pushed his head under the water for almost too long. The young man struggled, came up gasping for air, and demanded the meaning of such an unwarranted action. The great Socrates responded, “When you want to learn as badly as you want a breath of air, only then can I teach you what you want to know.” To understand the gospel of Jesus Christ, one must first have a strong desire to learn and a willingness to study.

Some years ago, I was traveling in the Democratic Republic of the Congo with other Church leaders. We had been driving in complete wilderness when we suddenly hit a big bump in the road. Our driver struggled to steady the truck, but it landed on its side.
After we pulled ourselves from the wrecked truck, we said a prayer of gratefulness that no one was seriously injured. Then we set out on foot to find help. We came to a small village and explained our predicament. The villagers told us that sometimes it was possible to make a call on a cell phone by climbing one of the tall anthills nearby.
We climbed one of the anthills, but there was no signal. We tried again with the same result. Finally, on the eighth or ninth anthill, we were able to detect a small signal by raising the cell phone high in the air. We were able to get help.

“Circle up!”
The wagon master signaled the wagon train of Danish immigrants to form their evening circle. It was a bit early to make camp, and it was sunny there in the valley, but black clouds had been pouring their wet fury on the Rocky Mountain range rising grandly before them, for a good while. It would be miserable to make camp in the rain, so everyone quickly began their assigned duties.
Maren dropped her last armful of limbs onto the pile of firewood. As she brushed at the bits of bark clinging to her dress, she heard happy peals of laughter, then an impatient exclamation from her mother. Turning, Maren felt like laughing, too, as her mother tried to brush away the dust that made a squirming little boy look more like a coal miner after work than her four-year-old brother.
“Maren,” Mother pleaded, “please take Rasmus down to the stream and clean him off as best you can.”
Wearily Mother turned back to her cooking, only to see her six-year-old poking a handful of dry grass into the fire. Too late, the curious boy dropped the flaming grass and shook a burned finger in the air.
“Mor (Mother),” Maren quickly said, “let me take Jens down to the stream, too, while you finish supper. I’ll watch them there, and you can call us when it’s ready.”
Mother’s face softened. “Thank you, dear. It shouldn’t be more than an hour or so.”
On her way across the circle of covered wagons, Maren saw Annie sitting on an overturned bucket, idly scratching lines in the dirt with a stick. Maren had been thrilled to find another eleven-year-old girl in the company of covered wagons. Together they shared their dreams of what they thought Zion would be like, and they had become close friends despite being very different. Maybe Annie would like to go down to the stream too.
“Ya, Annie may go with you,” Sister Christensen said, eyeing the dust-covered Rasmus Maren clutched by the hand. “It looks as if you could use some help, anyway. Be sure to stay together, and don’t be late for dinner.”
The climb down the high bank of the ravine was steep. Years of spring flooding from the great mountains beyond had slowly cut deeper and deeper into the rolling plain, carrying the dirt far away to some distant river valley. But it was midsummer now, and only a thin trail of water wandered down the streambed. The ravine would probably be completely dry by fall.
“Surely there’s deeper water than this!” Annie made a face at the shallow stream. “Maybe there’s a pool around that bend.” She headed downstream. Whooping, Jens slapped his make-believe horse and galloped out of sight behind her.
“Wait for us!” Maren shouted. She hoisted little Rasmus up onto her hip and struggled along as fast as she could. But her brother and her friend weren’t just around the bend when she got there. They weren’t around the next one, either.
When Maren finally found them, Annie was joyfully wading through a lovely pool. Jens was staring at frog eggs he’d found clinging to the grass at the edge of the water.
Annie splashed water at Maren and laughed. “Come on, slowpokes. There’s even a sandy bottom.”
In no time at all, there was not a sign of a grimy child. Rasmus’s cheeks were pink from the scrubbing, and his hair was shiny in the sun.
Contented, the two girls sat in the soothing quiet and watched the boys toss pebbles into the pool, making ripples that rocked leaf boats across the crystal surface. If it hadn’t been so quiet, they never would have heard the whistle. It drifted ever so faintly down to them—two shorts and a long.
Annie looked up curiously. “What kind of bird was that?”
At once alert, Maren stood up. “It sounds like Far (Father). In Denmark that was his signal for me to herd the cows back to the farm. We’d better go back now.”
“But it hasn’t been near an hour since we left camp,” Annie protested. “Just think how long it’s been since we’ve been able to enjoy water like this!” Annie’s pretty mouth was beginning to pout.
The whistle came again—two shorts and one long.
Maren searched the top of the ravine. She put her fingers to her lips and blew a piercing whistle in reply. “I’m sure that’s Far. We need to go and find out what he wants. Come on, Rasmus,” she coaxed. “You, too, Jens. Far must have some reason for us to come now.”
Annie’s face was as dark and cloudy as the western sky. “No!” she protested again. “You go if you want. I’ll stay here a while longer. Your far has work for you to do, not me.”
“But your mor said we must stay together. I can’t leave you here alone. We must go. Please come, Annie. Please?” Maren’s kind eyes begged Annie.
They heard the whistle once more. It was closer now.
Annie could not resist Maren’s worried expression. “Very well,” she finally said with a sigh. “You’re probably right. You usually are. Let’s go.”
With a relieved smile, Maren led the way to the wall of the ravine. With some difficulty the four children scrambled up the steep bank. At the top, they could see three men running toward them along the lip of the ravine.
As the children paused to catch their breath, even above their own puffing, they could hear a grating roar. Frightened, they looked everywhere but could not tell where the terrifying sound was coming from. Seeing that two of the three men hurrying toward them were their fathers, they ran to meet them.
Then they saw what was making the strange noise.
Rushing and crashing down the ravine was a ten-foot-high wall of water! The heavy rain of the mountain thunderstorm had funneled into the ravine and tumbled trees and boulders before it as if they were feathers. Ripping out sagebrush and whole chunks of earth from the steep banks that normally confined the stream, the raging torrent swept up everything in its path, roaring past the seven immigrants and around the bend to where the cool, quiet pool lay with leaf boats floating on its glassy surface.
Far knelt to gather his shivering children into his strong arms. “I thought we’d never find you,” he choked, blinking his eyes to clear the wetness.
Annie tearfully hugged her own father closely and whispered, “It was Maren who saved us. She heard and obeyed.”

I am a space nut. I love the intricate formations of stars and planets. Last year, I entered a scholarship competition and won a week’s stay at a space academy in Huntsville, Alabama. I was thrilled! I would be part of a team of other young people from all over the country.
As I began making plans for the trip, a thought occurred to me: Why not try to plant some gospel seeds at the space academy? I had been taught that I could pray for missionary opportunities, and I was aching to share the gospel with others. So for days before my trip to Alabama, I prayed for “seed planting” opportunities. It was the first time I had ever asked for a missionary experience.
On the second day in Alabama I received the opportunity I had been praying for. I had set my scriptures on my bed, and one of my new friends read the title out loud as though it were a foreign language. I couldn’t believe it! My friend, Sophia, had never heard of a Mormon and didn’t know what LDS meant. I explained to her what the Book of Mormon is and what LDS stands for.
When it was time to climb into bed, we continued our conversation. The topic changed as four other girls in our room joined the discussion, and eventually we were discussing … can you guess? Boys. I casually said that I wasn’t going to date until I was 16.
As the week progressed, almost every night we’d discuss some of the Church’s standards and beliefs. We talked about language, fashion, boys, and a little about the temple, sealings, and baptisms for the dead. We talked about charity, the theory of evolution, and the big bang theory.
Now that I’m back from the space academy, I reflect on my time spent there and the friendships I developed. The most important things I learned at the space academy were not about science and space. I learned that missionary experiences are everywhere. If you open your heart and mind and listen to the Spirit, you can spread the gospel wherever you go.

Outside it was foggy and drizzly. But Juliana J. of Hatchet Lake, Nova Scotia, Canada, didn’t mind. She was feeling very warm inside as she and her family walked around the Halifax Nova Scotia Temple. She had just finished doing baptisms for the dead for her first time.
Going to the temple was actually the main reason Juliana had been excited to turn 12. Her older sisters and brother had been telling her about it for a long time, and she couldn’t wait to feel the Spirit there for herself.
But when her 12th birthday came, Juliana and her family were on vacation. When they stopped to see the Salt Lake Temple, she didn’t have her recommend yet, so she couldn’t go inside. Big disappointment!
On her first Sunday back home, Juliana made sure she had her recommend interview with her bishop. Then she had to wait a few more weeks until it was her ward’s Mutual temple visit.
Finally, the special day came. Juliana got dressed in her Sunday clothes. Her oldest sister helped by braiding Juliana’s long hair. Juliana’s family went with her to the temple. “She was so excited, she was vibrating!” her mom said.
Afterward, Juliana and her family walked around the temple together taking pictures. That’s a family tradition, come rain or snow. It’s a tradition that Juliana looks forward to repeating many more times.

The meaning of church to most people is a little different than what it is to me. Where I live, church consists of the two LDS families in Sand Point (an island town on the Aleutian Chain in Alaska) meeting for an hour to partake of the sacrament and participate in talks, prayers, and questions. My dad is the branch president. Our branch has no meetinghouse, so my family and the other member family take turns hosting the Sunday meeting.
At first I didn’t like “going” to church, and I really don’t know why. Maybe it was because I was the only teenage girl on the island who attended. I know it wasn’t because my friends teased me about church as much as it was the questions they asked. I really didn’t understand the Church and I had doubts about it. Was the Church true? Did God care? And most of all, What would happen to me when I died?
For a while, I’d read the Book of Mormon and never seemed to get anywhere. Satan seemed to be doing all he could to keep me from gaining a testimony.
One day, my feelings began to change. After a very difficult day, I came home from school very upset. I’d forgotten my lunch, had an unfriendly run-in with a hockey puck, and my best friend and I had had an argument. When I returned home, I ran upstairs, dumped my books on a chair, flopped onto my bed, and started crying.
As my tears ceased, I noticed I had left my triple combination on my desk. As I walked over to put it away, it fell open to a page marked by a card. The verses marked in ink caught my eye. I read in Doctrine and Covenants 18:10–11 [D&C 18:10–11]: “Remember the worth of souls is great in the sight of God; For, behold, the Lord your Redeemer suffered death in the flesh; wherefore he suffered the pain of all men, that all men might repent and come unto him.”
Suddenly I realized that Christ loved me and I wanted to know him better. I had expected my testimony to be handed to me. I assumed it would be easy. I know now that I have to search, ponder, and pray. I’m not going to get my testimony from my parents or grandparents, or my brothers and sisters. If I have faith my Savior will help me, and together we will find my testimony.
That night I decided to start reading the Book of Mormon again. This time, I was committed to finishing it.

“My mother was only five feet two inches tall. A very capable individual, she had been a schoolteacher before I was born, and she was an elocutionist (one who excels in public speaking). Before I started school, she taught me all the things that are taught in the first, second, and third grades. When my two brothers and two sisters came along, she didn’t have as much time to spend teaching me, and then I was just ordinary in school.

“During the Depression, my grandfather came to live with us. He had crossed the plains eighteen times, bringing people to Utah from Missouri. He would get an assignment to do this just as you might be assigned to work on the welfare farm. I sat at his feet and listened to his stories about hauling rocks for the temple, crossing the plains, and hunting bears. He was a good hunter—he had to be to survive.

“This grandfather was a stake clerk, and he would go around the stake to audit the books. He would travel in a horse and buggy maybe forty miles to a town where a ward was, audit the books, stay overnight, then go twenty-five miles to another town. One time when he was in Oak City, he had a feeling that he should return home that night. He hitched up his horse and buggy and drove twenty-six miles to his home, getting there just as the sun was coming up. He hurried into the house and asked his wife what was wrong. She told him that their youngest daughter was near death. He blessed the little girl, and she was made well.

“My mother’s mother really made an impression on me. When I was nine, she had a stroke and could no longer speak. I remember her lying on a bed in my aunt’s home. The doctor thought that she should have a stimulant, so he had some coffee prepared to give to her. She had never drunk coffee, and I can still see the fire in her eyes as she let the doctor know that she wasn’t going to drink any then, either! He got the message, and she didn’t get the coffee.

“My other grandmother, my dad’s mother, was a visiting teacher to a family during a flu epidemic after World War I. The whole family was sick with the flu; three of them had already died. My grandmother went into their home and took care of them and even dressed the bodies of the dead members in preparation for their funeral. I have always been impressed with what a faithful visiting teacher she was.

“I myself came down with smallpox, a deadly disease in those days. I was isolated in the granary, which had a stove. Pillows were tied on my hands so that I couldn’t scratch the big pox that covered my body. The Lord blessed me so that today I don’t have any pockmarks. I also had diphtheria, another deadly disease, and the Lord spared my life then too.

“I loved school and had some wonderful teachers. One of them was ElRay L. Christiansen, who later became a General Authority. He would tell us about different pieces of music and make them live for us. I still have a great love for opera and classical music.”

The idea of getting a newspaper job came to me because I wanted to help my family. I learned very early in my life that work was an important and essential part of a happy life. My father died when I was a baby, and my mother raised me and my six older brothers and sisters on her own. With her father’s help, she bought some rental units near downtown Salt Lake City, and that’s how she earned enough money to provide for our family.
We all helped with the maintenance and upkeep of those apartments; they were our family project. We worked together and played together while we cleaned the buildings, painted and wallpapered, and took care of the yards. Even though I was the youngest, I did my part—I weeded, picked up trash, painted, cleaned, anything I could. We all understood that we were working together so that we could have money for food and clothes and other things we needed.
The newspaper job was another way I could help Mother. That summer I earned almost one hundred dollars for my family. I felt a deep love and loyalty to my mother and tried very hard to do things that would make her happy. I learned much from following her example. Although she was a widow and had a large family, she served in many callings in our ward, including Relief Society president for several years.
Mother took me to many of her meetings. I felt like the ward “mascot.” All the sisters in the ward took good care of me and made me feel very special. I loved Primary, too, because the teachers were so kind. As I look back on it, I think that they probably treated all the children in their classes with great love and patience, but they made me feel very loved. Because of them, my memories of Primary always stir wonderful and warm feelings within my heart.
My family also strengthened my ability to live the gospel. We prayed as a family every day. I can’t remember missing a single day of family prayer. That is a great legacy that I appreciate today. After I married, my wife and I continued that tradition in our own family. We also read the scriptures together as a family.
One of my favorite scriptures is Romans 1:16: “For I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ: for it is the power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth.” This scripture reminds me to not be ashamed of the gospel and to be true to my knowledge of Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. Sometimes I see people, both adults and youth, who seem almost apologetic or embarrassed by their membership in the Church and their belief in Jesus Christ. This should not be! The gospel is a precious treasure, and we are very blessed to have it in our lives. We should be grateful for what we know and believe, live the gospel as fully as we can, and look for opportunities to share it with others. Many people are looking for something to make them happy, and I know that the gospel of Jesus Christ can bring happiness to those who are obedient and faithful.
I am grateful to my mother for teaching me about the gospel and for setting a worthy example that I could follow. I sensed even as a young boy that she was sacrificing a great deal to raise my brothers and sisters and me and to teach us what was right. I knew that she loved us deeply and wanted us to be happy. Because of her wonderful example and great love, I never wanted to do anything to disappoint or hurt her. Many times in my life, when I was trying to make a right and good choice, I would ask myself what Mother would want me to do. That was always a great guideline for me to use.
At a young age, I also realized that Heavenly Father loved me just as much as, or more than, Mother did. He, too, wanted me to be happy. He loves each one of us and wants us to be happy. Whenever you have a choice to make, ask yourself what Heavenly Father would want you to do. Ask yourself what would please Him. When you use that as your guideline, you will make choices that will bring you joy and happiness, choices that will draw you closer to Him.

Stonehenge—one of history’s mysteries. Every year millions of people travel to Salisbury Plain, England, to visit this ancient monument. What most people don’t know, however, is that, tucked away nearby in the remote village of Kingston Deverill, lives the Ralph family, whose history is as rich as Stonehenge and whose acts of charity are as monumental.
Meet Edwin, 17, Emmanuel, 16, Martha, 13, and Sophia, 8, descendants of King Alfred the Great. Their daily schedules are as busy as most young people their age, with school, church, and sports; but their household responsibilities are unusual. They, along with their parents and grandparents, live in Kingston House, where they care for five mentally challenged men. The five residents are between ages 33 and 71. They have multiple learning disabilities with their mental ages ranging from two to five years. They need constant supervision. With the extended Ralph family, each child plays an important role in the running of this unusual home where service and charity are taught and learned daily.
Early each morning, Sophia scrambles out of bed, wakes her father, then helps him make breakfast for the family of 11. Later on Martha washes up, Emmanuel vacuums, and Edwin supervises bathing sessions. As the Ralph children interact with their less able “brothers,” their love for these men radiates. “They bring a lot of laughter into our lives,” smiles Edwin, a priest in the Yeovil Branch, Bristol England Stake. “You learn to develop patience and a sense of humor.”
He relates a story of one man who came to their home after living in an institution for most of his life. “The first thing he did was to vacuum the toilet. He had learned to vacuum and did it very well. When he arrived, he asked us if he could use the vacuum cleaner, which we thought was great—until it went up in smoke.”
There’s never a dull moment at Kingston House. Caring for the men is a full-time job, which the family happily shares among them.
Emmanuel explains the feelings he has towards the men whom he sees as brothers. “I know they’re special people, and it’s my responsibility to help them. They have boys’ spirits in men’s bodies, and it is refreshing to be around them.”
Emmanuel dreams of being a professional cricket player one day. He shares this dream with the residents by playing cricket with them on a regular basis. In fact, all the Ralphs are cricket fans and will challenge anyone to a match in their backyard. The sport enables the disabled men and non-LDS friends and neighbors to come together. Once the game begins, barriers vanish, and the participants lose themselves in fun.
Martha, who plays for Dorset Girls Cricket Team, enjoys watching her friends overcome their fear of the patients. “At first they’re a bit scared,” she says. “We forget at times that they are mentally disabled until we see the reaction of other people to them. After a while they get to know the men and see them in a different light. We all have a great time.”
As a Beehive in Young Women, Martha realizes that the time she spends with the residents has helped her learn to view others less judgmentally. “Because of the experience I’ve had with our residents, I realize that other people need help too. It’s not good to hold prejudices. Christ never did.”
The gospel gives Edwin a clearer perspective. “It’s nice to know they are spirits just like me, and there is a purpose for their disability here. I want to help them live the best lives they can. It will be brilliant to see them in the Resurrection. I look forward to meeting them in the next life when their bodies are perfect.”
One of the residents, Roy, was 46 when Sophia was age two. Because Roy’s mental age was the same as Sophia’s, they became best friends. Brother Ralph describes how they played together and followed each other around. “Now Sophia is eight, and Roy looks up to her as his big sister. Mentally he’s still a two-year-old.” It’s touching to watch them walk hand in hand down the lane to the lambing fields. When it’s spring, Sophia takes Roy to see the newborn lambs, an outing they both cherish.
Brother Ralph serves on the high council of the Bristol Stake. He’s pleased with the spirit of charity the residents have brought into his home. “The children feel it’s quite natural for them to help the disabled men. Giving them attention and time is not a burden; it’s a benefit. There’s no question in my mind that we’ve been blessed.”
Where there are obstacles, there are also talents. The family believes that the men have been blessed with unique gifts despite their limitations. One has a great memory and always knows where everything is. Another is shy until he gets involved in sports, when he forgets himself and his skills come out. Yet another is an artist, even though he is partially blind and deaf. And another is a natural clown. He is a genius at remembering names and voices.
Another source of enjoyment for the Ralphs is missionary work. The Yeovil Branch which they attend is 28 miles away with an average attendance of 75 members. Eleven years ago, when Edwin and Emmanuel were six and five, they helped to convert their grandparents. “It was exciting to teach my parents,” says Brother Ralph. “The children are not afraid to share the gospel with others, and this has made the world of difference in our lives.”
The Ralphs’ missionary work also extends to family history. When they traced their family lines, they discovered they were descendants of King Alfred the Great. It also happens that the standing stones mentioned in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, King Alfred’s meeting place with his troops in 878 A.D. where he made plans to battle the Danes, are on the Ralphs’ land. These two five-foot stones form part of their family shield. The wooden coat of arms also displays the motto “Honor, Truth, and Excellence.” These qualities reflect in their lives as a family as they serve those in need.

President Smith, in the same Tabernacle talk, also honored a little-known non-LDS woman who likewise helped the Church. Evidently when General Lucas, out of fear of General Doniphan, sent Joseph Smith to jail rather than execute him, he delivered Joseph into the charge of a General Moses Wilson. General Wilson, on the way to Liberty Jail, housed Joseph at his own home, in chains, where Mrs. Wilson developed deep sympathy for the unfairly treated Mormon leader. When the Wilsons moved to Texas, the general one day planned to raise a mob to punish Mormon elders preaching in the area. When Mrs. Wilson heard this, although an aged lady, she mounted her horse and rode 30 miles to warn the elders. Years later one of her sons told President George A. Smith that his mother “deeply deprecated the difficulties with the Mormons, and did all she could to prevent them.”13

Last summer the youth in our ward were challenged to read the entire Book of Mormon. Eventually the summer came to an end, and I finished the Book of Mormon. As I kneeled to pray and asked if the book was true, I remember thinking that this was it—I would finally have the experience that everyone seems to talk about where they are overcome by the Spirit.
The truth is, when I prayed, I didn’t feel that way. At first I was a little upset. Why hadn’t I received such a witness? Was I not worthy? But I soon realized that though many people might feel the Spirit confirming truth to them very strongly when they pray about the Book of Mormon, there are many others who don’t have that same experience. Just because you may not receive an extremely strong confirmation does not mean the Book of Mormon isn’t true or that your testimony is not as strong as someone else’s. It simply means that the Spirit can speak to people in different ways and at different times.
For me, this experience taught me that we don’t always receive answers in the way we expect. I thought I would feel an overpowering spiritual impression after I prayed about the Book of Mormon—but I didn’t. Honestly, I believe I already knew it was true.
Though I may not have felt the Spirit very strongly at that time, I knew I had felt it while reading about Alma’s conversion and about Ammon and his brothers bringing thousands of Lamanites to the gospel, and about Christ teaching the Nephites after His Resurrection. I realized that feeling the Spirit while reading different parts of the Book of Mormon also confirmed to me that the entire book was true.

When Elders Ricks, Seeley, Ogden, and Zanetti were called to the Italy Rome Mission, they had no idea they would become broadcasters. But it’s all in a day’s work for these missionaries now. These elders, who are serving in the city of Ascoli Piceno, transmit a weekly program in which they discuss basic gospel principles and the Book of Mormon. The Church has not been in Ascoli Piceno for long, and these elders have a lot of ground to cover to get the gospel message out. By using the airwaves, their work goes a little faster, and is a lot of fun as well.

As he grew older, however, Hal discovered a major difference between himself and his father.
Henry Eyring encouraged his sons to study physics and to prepare for a career in the sciences. Hal dutifully majored in physics at the University of Utah, but one day when he asked his father for help with a complex mathematical problem, it became apparent to Henry that Hal did not share his passion.
“My father was at a blackboard we kept in the basement,” President Eyring recalls. “Suddenly he stopped. ‘Hal,’ he said, ‘we were working at this same kind of problem a week ago. You don’t seem to understand it any better now than you did then. Haven’t you been working on it?’ ”
Hal said he had not. He then admitted to his father that physics was not something he constantly thought about. His father paused a moment and then, in tender words that released his son to pursue his own professional passion, he said, “You ought to find something that you love so much that when you don’t have to think about anything, that’s what you think about.”

Si is not tied to his mother, but somebody, usually his mother, Anita Begieneman, always accompanies him because he has been almost totally paralyzed since March 1,1975, when he fell from a gymnastics high bar. He can only see, hear, think, mouth words, and smile.
Prior to his accident, Si had been a fairly typical Latter-day Saint teenager. Almost 17, the oldest of six children, he loved all sports; didn’t mind school too much; played the piano; and teased his brothers, his sisters, and his mother. His one big goal was to go on a mission as soon as he turned 19.
In one instant Si went from full healthy activity to total paralysis. He lost all movement. He could not breathe, speak, or eat. He was on a life-supporting respirator 24 hours a day.
Usually when people are suddenly handicapped they experience denial, anger, resentment, and even bitterness before they finally accept their condition. Si’s medical team was amazed because he did not experience anger, depression, or a sense of hopelessness and panic.
He did get pneumonia, however, and his mother called Si’s former bishop and good friend, Robert S. Patterson, to give Si a blessing. Brother Patterson said, “Your accident has a definite and important purpose. You are to become an instrument in Heavenly Father’s hand to help bring many people who do not presently believe in God to a knowledge of him. This is to be your mission. You agreed to it before you came to the earth, and if you fulfill it well, you will thank your Heavenly Father for it every day throughout eternity.”
Si’s mother also received a witness of the Lord’s love. Si remembers, “Mom asked me what I would do if I could never again walk, talk, play the piano, or participate in sports. It was something that I had thought about a lot. I said, ‘It’s okay, Mom, I did those things the best I could when I could do them, and now I’ll learn to do something else.’
“She told me that the day after my accident she had gone down to my room, sat on the bed, and cried, ‘Heavenly Father, why? Why did this happen to my son?’ In answer, thoughts flooded into her mind. She realized that it was the Holy Ghost, so she grabbed a pencil and paper off my desk and recorded what came to her: ‘This life is a training ground for godhood. How we meet the trials that come and how we let them affect our lives are very important. We must see them as instruments of growth. All things can be for our good if we but let them. This life is the time to prepare to live again with our Heavenly Father, to grow in spirit and character and strength to meet the challenges and tremendous responsibilities of the celestial kingdom. This time of Si’s life will be exciting and challenging as new experiences come to him. None of the talents he has developed will be lost. They are just temporarily set aside while he develops others.’”
As the months passed, Si learned that he did not have to live a passive life simply because he could not move. There was still much he could give. He even learned that one way of giving was to accept help from others with love and gratitude. And he has received from many, many people.
To mention a few: His mother visits his hospital room each day and spends many hours with him. Other family members also show their love and support. Doctors and nurses at the hospital provide constant care. The Primary children of his stake raised $2,000 to buy a hydraulic lift to raise his wheelchair into his van. The Edmonton Singles Ward produced a musical comedy, and his four talented stepsisters presented a musical program to raise funds for a personal computer.
Brother Bob Layton, a news reporter for a local radio station, produced a two-part documentary on Si. It is the station’s policy to never play a documentary more than once, but the listener response to the Si Peterson story was so overwhelming, that they had to repeat it many times. Eventually the soundtrack from the documentary was combined with a series of photographic slides to form a sight and sound presentation. Brother Layton has, on request, taken this presentation to firesides, schools, and community organizations many times. The letters of response, many from school children, are evidence that Si has truly been an instrument of bringing people to God. One girl wrote, “Your faith and your acceptance of your accident help me to believe too.”
Some gifts Si has received were not altogether welcome at first. One day in 1977 a young man named Duane Simpson walked into Si’s hospital room, turned off the television set, and demanded, “What are you doing with your life, Si? Why are you wasting your time watching television? There’s nothing wrong with your brain—Why aren’t you using it?”
Si was amazed. His mother was very angry. But Duane continued, “Si, I’m here to help you any way I can.” He explained that he had been assigned to Si as a tutor.
Beginning then, Si’s life changed dramatically. “I guess I needed Duane to help me change my attitude. I wasn’t doing anything because I never really thought there was anything I could do.”
Since then Si has worked toward completing his high school education. He now aims to enroll in a university and obtain a degree in social work.
How does someone in his condition study? He listens to cassette tapes and his tutor. The tutor then reads him the questions. Si gives the answers “orally”. But because Si cannot make any sounds, his tutor has to read his lips, write down the answers, and send them to the correspondence school to be graded. It is a slow, tedious way to study, but Si jokes, “I’m getting better marks than I ever did before.”
While Si has learned to receive graciously, he has also learned to give unselfishly. He has counseled with many depressed and troubled people who are struggling to face their own handicaps and difficulties, and all have gone away lifted in spirit.
His deep empathy for the feelings and problems of others has also helped him reach out and bring people into the Church or back into activity.
One of them, a nurse in the hospital where Si lives remembers, “I first heard about the Church during my 3 A.M. discussions with Si. He gave definition to many basic feelings I’d had all my life. Then he asked me if I’d be willing to listen to the missionaries, and I did. I was baptized in August 1983.”
David McTavish is another of the many whose lives Si has touched. “Coming back from inactivity, at first I felt uncomfortable with Si. But the example of his acceptance of the Church and his faith, plus my many discussions with him, have helped me to handle the obstacles between me and the Church. He has also given me a freedom not to be afraid of the kind of person I am.”
Mrs. G. Von Busse, a tall, blonde grandmother, is Si’s physiotherapist and good friend. “I have watched Si grow from a teenager to the very fine young man he is today. With Si I have a friend. Nobody really knows me at the hospital but Si. We talk about everything—my youth, music, finances, politics, my family—everything. And when I go to Germany to visit my family there, they ask, ‘How is Si?’ And when I come back, Si has my favorite record playing. He is a very good person, highly intelligent and healthy—only that he is paralyzed, that’s all.”
If you were to stop by Si’s room unannounced, you would probably find him working on his computer or with his earphones on, listening to one of his many cassette tapes: the standard works (he’s listened to them all at least four times), conference talks, recorded books, school lessons, or music ranging from the Tabernacle Choir to classics to popular.
Si’s independence was greatly increased by the electronic control unit which the Alberta Rehabilitation Council installed for him in 1978. By touching the control lever with his lower lip, he can turn on or off everything that is connected to the system. He can even call a nurse with it. Now he has a modified personal computer that can be merged with the unit and allows him, for the first time in ten years, to write his own messages. “This opens up lots of things that have been closed to me,” he says. “I can use it to work on my education. Then I’ll write a book about my life. Also, after more training, maybe I’ll compose some music.”
Undoubtably much of Si’s strength comes from the gospel. He has been an elder since November, 1977. And on June 22, 1982, he traveled more than 300 miles to the Alberta Temple to receive his endowments. Temple President Vi A. Wood, who years before had given Si his patriarchal blessing, helped him through the endowment session.
Si calmly accepts his paralysis, but it is not easy to live as he does. Aside from the obvious discomforts and limitations, he also endures the side effects of it all. For example, because he is constantly on the respirator, his blood gasses get out of balance, causing him severe hallucinations. He has had many, many near-fatal moments when his respirator has failed. He has suffered cardiac arrest, pneumonia again and again, kidney stones, stomach ulcers, and strokes. But his faith in his Heavenly Father is unshaken.
So is his sense of humor. There is usually a smile on Si’s face, and he loves a good practical joke. When his mother went to the hospital once for her daily visit, she was in for a shock. Two hospital orderlies with very serious faces were sitting near Si’s room, and his door was closed. She opened the door and went in.
Si’s room was darkened, and he was covered with a white sheet. Anita’s heart faltered. She walked over and pulled back the sheet. Si was laughing! Then the orderlies came in, and they were laughing too.
Si is an inspiration to his whole family. His youngest sister, Barbie, reflects, “I was only five years old when the accident happened, so to me having Si like this is just a part of our way of life. It’s not a burden for us. I guess it would be if Si made a big fuss about it, but he doesn’t, so neither do I. Sometimes I wish I could make him better, but then I think no, because he’s blessed so many people’s lives. I do hope that sometime he’ll be well again. He’s really a great guy.”
Si’s father, Dr. Frank Peterson, concludes, “It’s unfortunate that he’s immobilized, but everything else about this has been positive. I’m proud of him.”
Si has a firm testimony, and he bears it frequently. His mother reads his lips and then gives voice to his feelings to the accompaniment of the rhythmic hum of his respirator.
“One of the main purposes of this earth life is to be tried, to prove ourselves worthy to return to our Heavenly Father, and so trials that come to us are an important part of our lives. Every one of us will be tried in one way or another. The important thing is how we accept our trials and grow from them. They can be stumbling blocks or stepping stones.
“I am grateful for my membership in the true and living Church, and I am grateful for the priesthood that I hold. I am grateful for my family who loves and supports me, and for the many others who help me so much. I know that my Heavenly Father lives and that he hears and answers my prayers. I am grateful for my Savior, Jesus Christ, and for his sacrifice for me. I know that my accident had a special purpose in my Heavenly Father’s plan for me.
“I feel fortunate that the trial I have been given is so obvious that I receive a lot of encouragement and help from many people. Your trials may be just as difficult as mine, but perhaps not as obvious, and so I pray that you will be able to accept them and have the strength to endure and grow from them.”
This thought is typical of Si Peterson. Trapped inside the prison of his own motionless body, with every possible excuse to turn his thoughts bitterly inward, his mind reaches out to others in prayer and service. Even lying flat on his back, he is a giant. Si Peterson—a typical young Latter-day Saint and a unique human being.

Jody felt sad as he worked alone in the flower garden. He wished that Grandpa was here to help him. Hoeing weeds wasn’t much fun alone.
Mother came out the back door and crossed the yard to the garden. “Jody, I’m going to the hospital this afternoon to see Grandpa,” she said. “Do you want to come along?”
Jody kicked at a clump of dirt with his toe. “I don’t know,” he said.
“If you don’t want to go, you can stay with Mrs. Knight while I’m gone.”
“I want to see Grandpa,” Jody said slowly, “but, Mother, he just doesn’t seem like Grandpa anymore.”
His mother smoothed back the damp wisps of hair on Jody’s forehead. “I know, Jody. When Grandpa had his stroke, it affected his brain so that it doesn’t work the same anymore, and he can’t do very much. But Grandpa is still Grandpa.”
Jody sighed. He wanted Grandpa to be the way he was before his stroke.
Mother smiled at him gravely. “It’s the way things are, Jody. When you were a tiny baby, all you did was sleep and cry. Someone fed you and dressed you then—the nurses do that for Grandpa now—but today you can run and sing and do things for yourself. You’re different from what you were, but you’re still Jody.”
Jody thought about that for a while. Finally he said, “I guess I’ll go see Grandpa with you.”
“Good! We’ll go right after lunch.”
Jody began hoeing weeds again. If Grandpa is still Grandpa, he thought, then he must miss his flower garden. Grandpa always spent a lot of time in his garden and looking through the seed catalogs for new flowers to plant.
His thoughts gave Jody an idea. He went to the small shed where the garden supplies were kept and hung up the hoe the way Grandpa had taught him so that no one could step on it and get hurt. Then he chose a clay flower pot from a row of pots on the shelf.
Carrying the pot, he went back to the garden and looked at the bright clusters of flowers. The pansies were just beginning to bloom. Pansies were Grandpa’s favorite flower.
Jody chose the sturdiest pansy plant and dug around the roots carefully with a trowel. He lifted the plant gently, making sure that there was still plenty of soil around the roots, the way Grandpa had taught him. He put the plant into the pot, filled it with more soil, and watered it.
When Jody and his mother went into Grandpa’s room at the hospital, Grandpa was sitting in a wheelchair. Before, when he’d been here, Grandpa had seemed like a stranger and Jody had held back, a little frightened. Now he went directly up to Grandpa, kissed him, and put the flowerpot on the bedside stand beside him. “I brought you a plant, Grandpa,” he said.
Grandpa looked at the plant, then at Jody—he was smiling. He could only smile with one side of his mouth, but it was a real smile.
Jody slid his hand into Grandpa’s and smiled back. Grandpa isn’t a stranger, he thought. He’s still Grandpa.

An elder from Germany told how he had always known that he did not know the truth. He described how he sometimes prayed to God to find it. After leaving the military service, he was employed in Switzerland. One day, living alone and feeling lonely, he prayed again, “Please God, send me the truth.” A few days later when he was walking down the street, a stranger approached him and said, “Young man, I am supposed to talk with you, but I don’t know why.” In this missionary’s words, “I looked into his face and knew he had the Spirit of God. His face was beautiful.” The stranger was a Church member who had been walking down the same street and felt inspired to speak to an unknown young man on a busy street in Switzerland. This elder spoke of his mission as a privilege.

It was Christmastime, and I was 17 years old. My parents had divorced, and I had many stresses that I was trying to deal with. Each day it seemed harder to deal with the simple tasks of everyday life. At this time, when hope seemed lost, I found myself at the seminary building. I explained my frustrations to my Father in Heaven on my knees in an empty classroom.
As I spoke to my Heavenly Father in tears, I felt impressed to thank Him for the beauty of the day and even for the struggles I was facing. I also talked with a caring seminary teacher and asked for a priesthood blessing from my bishop. I began to study the scriptures more thoroughly and read other good literature by our modern-day prophets.
Finally, as I was putting up a humble, two-foot-tall Christmas tree in my room, I placed on top of it a shining silver star that my mother had given me. As I placed it there, I looked and saw a Mormonad poster with a picture of the Savior that simply said, “Now There Is Hope.” I looked from the star and then back to the painting of the Savior. It suddenly made sense to me. Because of what happened on that first Christmas, because of my Savior and Redeemer, Jesus Christ, there was now hope.
I began thinking of all the gifts Heavenly Father had given me, and joy began to fill my heart. I was grateful and began thanking Him for my trials. I began to view my struggles as gifts given to me to strengthen me, and I thanked Heavenly Father for trusting me enough to give me these trials to overcome.
As I listened to the song “Joy to the World,” I let my mind dwell upon the line “Let earth receive her King!” (Hymns, no. 201).
I finally started to understand and receive in my heart the gift of Jesus Christ, the Savior, who paid the ultimate price. This is the gift I received that Christmas.

When I was young, my friends and I often played ball in an alley behind our home. A woman named Mrs. Shinas rented a tiny house nearby, and she used to watch us play from her window. She rarely came out of her house, and when she did, she never smiled. We all thought that she was mean. She had a big dog, an English setter, and whenever one of our baseballs rolled in its direction—which happened often—Mrs. Shinas would send the dog to fetch it. We wouldn’t see the ball again. Soon we ran out of baseballs.

In those days, we didn’t have lawn sprinklers, and so each day I watered our lawn by hand with a hose. One day as I stood watering our little stretch of grass, I noticed that Mrs. Shinas’s lawn looked a little shabby. It took only a few more minutes to water it, too, and soon I was watering her lawn each day.

When autumn came that year, one of my tasks was to clear our yard of leaves. I sprayed the ground with a hose, pushing the leaves into a pile with the force of the water. I decided to gather up the leaves on Mrs. Shinas’s yard as well, and as I was doing this one day, she came to her door and beckoned for me to come inside. I turned off the hose and went into her house.

She invited me to sit in her living room, and she gave me a cookie and a glass of milk. As I sat there eating my cookie, she showed me her collection of little china dogs. I could tell that they were her most prized possession. Then she thanked me for taking care of her lawn. It was the first conversation I had ever had with her.

Mrs. Shinas then went into her kitchen and returned with a box. In it were all the baseballs that her dog had taken. She handed me the box, said thank you—and smiled! It was the first time I’d ever seen her smile.

The after-school job. It can range from scooping ice cream to mowing lawns, and at one time or another, most people have one to earn spending money, or save for a mission or college education. But two teenagers in Logan, Utah, have found that monetary gain is not the only reward for working hard.
Using the local community center in Logan, Lynette and Nicole Sieger teach dance lessons to nearly 80 students each week—at no cost. That’s right, Lynette and Nicole put in long hours every week teaching, choreographing, and explaining for free.
“This job takes lots of patience, but I love it,” says 16-year-old Nicole, who teaches three or four ballet classes each afternoon. “I absolutely love dance,” she says.
Thirteen-year-old Lynette echoes those sentiments by saying, “I really love little kids. They’re just a lot of fun to be around.”
Both sisters also teach love and affection while they instruct their students on the finer points of tap and ballet. While one gives help and instruction, the other is never far away, holding a child on her lap or whispering words of encouragement.
The sisters learned to dance in Texas, where they lived until just a few years ago. When they moved to Logan, they taught the free classes as an audition for a teaching job at another dancing school. When the job fell through, the sisters decided to continue teaching their classes anyway, at no cost to the students.
“I think you really have to be disciplined to do it,” says Lynette. “But it really is worth it to pass along something to people who may not otherwise get the chance.”
Nicole sums up her feelings by saying, “I couldn’t do this if I didn’t think it was important. Helping others create something of beauty is one of the most important things I can do.”

Each summer eleven-year-old Blazer Scouts, like Jason Stewart and David Mathews of Las Vegas, Nevada, look forward to sleeping in tents and cooking outdoors with other troop members.
One morning last summer David and Jason got up at 5:00 A.M. and met with other Scouts at the meetinghouse for the ride to the mountains. By eight o’clock boys from all over East Stake were waiting at the trailhead for the mile-and-a-half hike into camp. The hike was a skill award requirement. Before camp was over, the boys would earn the major part of five skill awards.
Stake President Kendall Jones greeted the boys and presented each one with a hiking stave. He showed how he had carved his own stave with special designs. Jason and David were anxious to do the same, but for the moment, they were grateful to have even plain staves to help them with the climb.
The boys were to hike in to the Mt. Potosi (Poe-TOE-see) Scout Camp, each carrying a fully inspected pack, sleeping bag, and canteen. Patrol leaders, like David, would also carry the troop flag.
Arriving at the camp an hour later, Jason and David gladly dropped their gear and stood at attention while the Leadership Corps (chosen from last year’s Blazers) welcomed them. After a flag-raising ceremony, each troop gave a rousing patrol yell and displayed its flag.
The real work of the camp began as the boys moved to five different stations for in-depth skill award training. David looked over Jason’s shoulder while President Gary Stewart demonstrated knot-tying techniques. The boys practiced several kinds of knots until they learned them by heart.
At the map-and-compass station, Brother Arden Sampson taught Jason how to locate his position using a compass. After instruction in map skills and pacing, the Blazer Scouts were given a compass course to follow. Those who did it successfully found a hidden treasure.
Lunchtime provided another opportunity for the Scouts to fulfill a skill award requirement. Each boy prepared lunch without using utensils. Then it was on to more skill award stations. At the lashings station, President Jones gave David pointers on how to make a square lashing.
At last it was time to play! David and Jason had been watching through the trees while Scout Troops 160 and 370 spent the day lashing together a huge tower. Now they found out what it was for. Boys ran eagerly to line up for rides down the cable strung three hundred feet across the road to the hill opposite. Once on the lashed tower, they slipped a knotted rope between their legs and jumped off. Down they rode on their own “Mt. Potosi Tramway.”
After dinner David and Jason helped clean up camp; then they set up tents. As the sun set, they headed for an amphitheater to attend a special campfire program. The Scouts sang songs, put on skits, then settled down to listen as Brother Stephen Stoney gave a Scoutmaster’s Minute. Afterward they roasted marshmallows and baked apples.
Early the next morning David grabbed his stave and canteen, wondering how he’d manage the five-mile hike over the rugged terrain. Along the way, the Leadership Corps had established rest points, where the boys reviewed the things that they had learned at the skill award stations.
Back from the hike, the boys ate their final camp meal, took down tents, and met one last time at the flagpole. A game was started, and David, sitting at the end of the line, pulled the other boys down over him in a funny sit-down race. Finally, each boy received a specialized award, watched the lowering of the flag, and prepared to leave.
Tired and dirty, the boys shouldered their packs again for the hike out. When they reached the road, they had completed the hiking skill award begun the day before. Except for a few requirements to complete in their troop meetings, the boys had earned their five skill awards. Whooping at the sight of the waiting trucks, they piled in for the ride home.