Gospel Story Finder

Zoe took a bite of her cookie. “Yummm.”
“These are just like Grandma’s famous cookies,” Zoe’s older brother Zach said. “She made the best cookies ever!”
Dad’s parents had died before Zoe was born. Her older brothers and sisters and cousins talked about Grandma and Grandpa all the time.
“Your grandma was a great cook,” Dad said as he picked up another cookie. “I miss those dinners she and Grandpa had every Sunday. They always invited the whole family.”
What would it have been like to know Grandma and Grandpa? Zoe wondered.
Zoe listened to her family tell more stories about her grandparents. She loved hearing about them, but she felt a little left out too. She didn’t have any memories to share.
A few days later she was at her older cousin Lily’s house. On Lily’s bed was a cloth doll.
“She’s so pretty!” Zoe said. She softly touched the doll’s dress.
“Grandma gave her to me,” Lily said. “She always did nice things like that. I really miss her.”
“I miss her too,” Zoe said. Then she frowned. How could she miss someone she’d never met?
Over the next week Zoe kept thinking about her grandparents. Every time someone talked about them, she felt an empty place in her heart.
“I never even met Grandma and Grandpa,” Zoe told Dad one night. “Why am I so sad that they’re gone?”
Dad smiled. He let out a soft sigh. “Your grandparents loved their family more than anything.” His voice got kind of scratchy. “I know that didn’t change after they died. They love you very much. And they’re cheering for you as you grow up.”
Dad snapped his fingers. “Hey, I have an idea. Maybe we should have a special family lesson to help you get to know your grandparents better.”
“That sounds nice,” Zoe said.
Dad smiled again. “You can learn all sorts of fun things, like how Grandma used to write silly songs for her grandchildren.”
Zoe wished she had a song written by her grandma.
The next night, the family gathered to share more favorite stories about Grandma and Grandpa. They even shared some of the silly songs Grandma wrote!
At the end of the lesson, Mom turned to Zoe. “I know you’ve been thinking a lot about your grandparents,” she said. “Someday you’ll get to meet them. Until then, Dad and I thought this might help you feel closer to them.” Dad handed Zoe a picture of Grandma and Grandpa.
Zoe felt happy as she looked at the picture of her grandparents. Someday she would finally get to meet them!

Reflecting on her blessings helps Stefanie Egly of Hesse, Germany, trust in Heavenly Father’s plan and in His timeline.
Stefanie began writing down her blessings after a relationship with a good friend didn’t work out. “Though we hadn’t been dating, I had always hoped our relationship would develop into something more. My hope was destroyed when he told me he had a girlfriend.”
Heartbroken, Stefanie found comfort after reading an article on gratitude in the Liahona. She felt impressed to write down how she had been blessed—specifically how being single had been a blessing.
Her list helped her recognize that just because she hadn’t had the opportunity to get married, it did not mean she had been denied blessings. Stefanie recognizes that the Lord has blessed her with the chance to become an elementary school teacher and work with children. She has traveled, attended general conference, and participated as a counselor in the Especially for Youth program. Some of her dearest friendships developed through young single adult conferences that she has attended.
But the biggest blessing, she says, was being able to spend time with her grandmother shortly before she passed away, something that her siblings and cousins were not able to do because they lived far away or had families to care for.
Five years have passed since Stefanie started documenting her blessings. She still waits for the time when she will have the opportunity to marry in the temple. She says, “I don’t know when I will meet my eternal companion, but I trust the time will come. Until then, I know I will continue to have experiences that will help me learn and grow.” Heavenly Father has blessed her immensely, and she knows He will continue to do so if she is faithful.

I could go on and tell of similar experiences with other General Authorities. Just before a recent general conference, we attended a luncheon at the Hotel Utah. Elder LeGrand Richards had recently undergone an operation and was walking with his cane. Elder Packer gave him his arm to steady him going down the steps and along the walk to the Church Office Building, matching his steps to those of Elder Richards in a show of affection. As we passed them, Elder Franklin Richards said, “Take good care of him, Elder Packer.” He replied, “I surely will. He’s precious.” And he is.

Jennette Evans McKay, mother of our ninth prophet, David Oman McKay, had sacrificed a great deal to make it possible for her husband to go on a mission. When the mission call arrived in the mail, Jennette and David had three living children, and a fourth—Annie—was to be born very soon. They owned a large farm that required a lot of work, and they had just saved up enough money to remodel their home and add on more bedrooms.
David was hesitant to leave his wife with so much responsibility, but Jennette said, “Of course you will go! David O. and I will manage quite nicely.”
After her husband left for Scotland, Jennette McKay had the ward priesthood quorums do her spring planting, and she spent a lot of time teaching her young children how to run the farm. They milked the cows, fed the chickens, gathered the eggs, and helped harvest their precious crops. And after swearing everyone who knew about it to secrecy, Jennette had their home remodeled without telling her husband in any of her letters to him. She made the kitchen and dining room larger and added several new bedrooms. She was especially proud of the new indoor staircase, which led to the children’s bedrooms upstairs. Now she would no longer have to wrap up warmly on cold winter nights, go outside, climb a ladder, and crawl through a window to tuck her children in bed at night.
When Jennette’s husband returned from his mission, he could not believe his eyes as he toured the home and saw the many improvements. The farm, the home, and, of course, the children had been well taken care of by Jennette McKay.

There is a little village called Mistolar on the Paraguayan desert. All of its residents are members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Despite their distance from the Church’s Paraguayan headquarters in the capital city of Asunción, these humble people of Indian ancestry follow the programs and principles of the restored gospel and are an example of faithfulness to the world.
Mistolar had its beginnings in 1977. At that time, the Paraguayan mission president, Merle Bair, saw Walter Flores, a man from the deserts of the Chico in Paraguay, on a television program in Asunción. President Bair felt impressed to find the man and share the gospel with him. In 1980, the missionaries located Flores. He was very receptive to the gospel message, and was soon baptized. Brother Flores’ testimony was so profound and clear, he knew he had to share the gospel with his fellow Indians. Several hundred joined the Church.
One group of some 214 Nivaclé Saints (formerly Chulupi), wanted to be free from worldly influences and settled a large piece of land in an uninhabited, remote area of Paraguay. They named their settlement Mistolar. At first, they were totally self-sufficient in their gardening, hunting and fishing, and had little communication with other people.
But the massive Pilcomayo River, between Mistolar and the northern border of Argentina, challenged their self-sufficiency and their faith.
One year, as the snows of the Andes Mountains melted, the swollen Pilcomayo overflowed its banks and flooded Mistolar. The Saints were forced to move and they relocated ten kilometers away from the river’s edge. But even there, they were not safe. Another disastrous flood left their land more than knee-deep in water for a month. They lost the beautiful chapel they had built, their homes, their gardens, their clothing—almost everything they owned. But, as I was to discover, they still had their faith.

Even so, Kate faces some hard situations when it comes to the party atmosphere that accompanies sports. It seems that drinking can become a stumbling point, especially when the team goes to Europe to compete. “After races, it’s party time. Everyone I met would drink. At first, I felt like the loner in the hotel. But I got over that feeling. My teammates knew better than to ask me to drink with them. After I won the worlds, my competitors would say, ‘Kate, you have to drink tonight.’ But I’d say no. My teammates would say, ‘No, she doesn’t drink. Don’t even ask.’”

It seems that people are indeed watching Kate and what she chooses to do. At the end of the season, two of her teammates said they had stopped drinking because of her. “It was the biggest reward I have ever received,” says Kate.

It was shortly after noon on Sunday, 6 April 1952. The morning session of the 122nd Annual General Conference had just concluded. With no premonition or forewarning, Bishop Richards received word from President Henry D. Moyle, Counselor to President David O. McKay, that the President wished to see him at his office. When Bishop Richards arrived there, President McKay told him he had been chosen to fill the vacancy in the Quorum of the Twelve occasioned by the death of Elder Joseph F. Merrill on February 3. Recounting the experience, Elder Richards said, “I wept and the President wept, and we hugged each other, and then we went over to the afternoon meeting.”

Whenever he was in New England, Brigham was anxious to visit and teach his many relatives there. In October, after he had returned to Kirtland, his cousin Willard Richards, who had read the Book of Mormon, visited him:
“I invited him to make his home at my house, which he did, and investigated thoroughly the principles and doctrines set forth by the Prophet and Elders of the Church. Dec. 31st, he requested baptism at my hands, which ordinance I administered to him in the presence of Elder Heber C. Kimball and others, who had spent the afternoon in cutting the ice to prepare for the ceremony.”16

In the summertime Scott can usually be found in water somewhere. Last year he earned the swimming merit badge. One of the badge requirements is to jump into the water fully dressed, remove your pants, and inflate them so that they can be used as a life preserver. His own pant legs were too short to tie around his neck after they were inflated, so he borrowed a pair of jeans from a friend with longer legs. Scott has found that with a little creativity he can do just about anything that he’d like to do.

When I was 16, most of my friends at school weren’t members, but they knew that I was a member of the Church. They started to smoke and do other things I wouldn’t do. So things began to change between us; our types of conversation were very different, and our thinking and activities weren’t compatible.
One day my father asked me, “Why aren’t you thinking about your friends’ effect on you?” He counseled me to be careful and think about the necessity of changing my friends.
When I started at the university, I became very busy and didn’t spend a lot of time with my friends, but one time when we were together, they decided to do something bad. We were in a car, and they drove really fast. A policeman pulled us over, and I was scared. I remembered the words of my father about taking care of the future. That experience helped me make a decision about the kinds of friends I wanted to have.
I became very involved in Church activities. Attending Mutual was wonderful because I decided to have those kinds of friends. I learned that my father was right—that I should take care of my relationship with good friends. I needed friends who would help me prepare for a mission.

Answer: I struggled as a child. I had a wonderful family and didn’t go through any obvious tragedies, but I always seemed to feel angry at myself and those around me. I would take these feelings out on my siblings. The more I mistreated them, the worse I felt. And yet I couldn’t seem to stop. This behavior drove a wedge between me and my family members. When I was 12 years old, I thought I was an evil, rotten, worthless person. I thought everyone would be better off without me.
Answer: I remember one time at the doctor’s office, the pediatrician asked Mom if she had ever heard her children say, “I wish I’d never been born.” And Mom answered, “No, all of the kids are fine.” I was surprised that Mom didn’t know I had thought about killing myself. So I tried to tell her what I was going through. But she acted so shocked that it made me never want to talk about it again. I pretended that I hadn’t really meant it.
Answer: Yes, but I didn’t really understand what a testimony was. I always knew deep down that there was a God, but Satan was working hard to convince me to doubt everything else. So I started wondering if the entire Church was wrong. Fortunately, I had some great Young Women leaders who were inspired to help me and show me a lot of love. One of them in particular helped me start feeling better about myself.
Answer: A bright spot was my Young Women class. I had a teacher who taught right at my level. She’s since moved away, and I wish I could tell her what she meant to me. I don’t remember what she taught exactly, but I remember feeling like I belonged there.
Another thing that really helped were temple trips. Even though I often felt worthless and didn’t think anyone cared about me, I enjoyed the spark of light and goodness of the temple. I often felt the Spirit there. One trip in particular made a difference. It started out bad because one of the older girls said something hurtful to me. But later that day, she apologized and gave me a hug. And I learned that I really liked hugs! After that, I asked her for a hug every Sunday. One Sunday I sat down in sacrament meeting without getting a hug from her. And she came up to me and said, “Where’s my hug?” with a smile. I felt so surprised and special that she sought me out and showed me love. She and I became closer and closer friends. I know hugs don’t help everyone, but they helped me.
Answer: Sure! She was the craziest, most energetic person I have ever known. She seemed to have never-ending amounts of happiness to share. She greeted me with so much enthusiasm and love every Sunday and gave me a hug. Her dose of goodness seemed to be just what I needed. I would carry it with me during the week. Over time, I began to accept that what she said was true. The Spirit was working on me. This is when my behavior finally started to improve in a lasting way. And my suicidal thoughts, which I’d had about a year, went away, though I still had to work on how I felt about myself.
Answer: Another turning point was when I began to volunteer at a nonprofit organization each week with my older brother and my mom. I was sometimes the only volunteer on my team who showed up regularly, so my supervisor counted on me. I found I really liked that. For example, one time we were cleaning up together, and she got called away to do something else. I kept sweeping and working hard. When she came back, she said that I had really good initiative and gave me so many compliments. And it felt so good. I realized that working hard and doing a good job was fun. Helping was fun! So I began to try my hardest to be the best volunteer that I could be. I gained enough experience to train other volunteers. I developed a passion for this organization and made friends.
Photograph from Getty Images
During this time, my behavior continued to change in positive ways as I felt the Spirit increase in my life. Over the next couple of years, I made friends again with my family members. I started feeling like a good person instead of a bad person. I became a happier person. People even commented on how much I smiled. And my happiness no longer depended on having a leader saying good things at church. My testimony of Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ was growing, and I could feel Their love for me.
Answer: My testimony keeps growing stronger. I know now that Heavenly Father loves every one of us—including me. I know the Book of Mormon is the word of God. I know that no matter what mistakes we have made, we can come back to goodness. We can repent through the Atonement of Jesus Christ. Anyone can return to Him again.
Answer: Please, if you are experiencing low self-worth, or depression, or want to die, or any other feelings like that, reach out for help. Go to a parent, a youth leader, a former Primary teacher, a bishop, even a friend—anyone you feel you can trust. I promise you that Heavenly Father does not want you to die. He wants you to live and feel joy. He wants you to feel His love. Turn to Jesus Christ. He can help you throughout your trials. He knows everything you are going through. Meanwhile, Satan is the one who tells you lies about yourself. Ignore him. He wants you to fail. Heavenly Father wants you to succeed.
Answer: Honestly, I still have a hard time accepting compliments or believing good things about myself sometimes. And I think insults hurt me more than they hurt most people, even if they’re just a joke. I still sometimes have a hard time believing that people love me until I feel convinced. But overall, I like myself and who I am becoming. It is a glorious feeling!

Another example of the hand of the Lord in this work occurred before Thanksgiving in 2018. Diann Ross felt prompted to go to the grocery store. While there, she noticed an African family struggling with the ATM machine. The Rusimuka and Lwakihugo families had recently immigrated from a refugee camp in Burundi. Sister Ross helped the families with their groceries and invited them to Thanksgiving dinner. The Rosses, the Lwakihugos, and the Rusimukas soon became close friends.

And this is what he told me.
The greatest day of my life, up to that point, was the day I received my mission call. Not even being accepted for the all-state basketball team or even achieving Eagle Scout could compare. Dad and I were home alone, because Mother and the girls were spending two months in Phoenix with Grandma. I had just finished telephoning Mom to tell her the good news.
“Wow, Dad!” I said as I hung up the telephone. “I still am very surprised! Mom thinks it’s great, too. She says to tell you Grandma’s feeling a little better, by the way. Wow! I am very surprised,” and I leaped to catch hold of the top of the door frame, executing a quick little swing.
“How would you like to start your mission right away?” Dad asked quietly.
“You bet! I wish it were tomorrow! I can’t wait to get into the LTM and then take a plane for—”
“No. I mean it, Rich. How would you like to begin your mission now?”
“Now? But Dad, the letter says, ‘You will enter the missionary home in Salt Lake City on the 20th of March.’ I don’t think they let you go in early. I think you have to—”
“I don’t mean start it in the Missionary Home. I mean start it here.” He was still sitting quietly in his big chair, looking at me very steadily. Something in his expression caused me to become thoughtful. I sat on the footstool near the fireplace and just waited.
“I don’t want to make any speeches, Rich. You’re ready for your mission; we all know that. You’ve done all the right things to prepare. By the way, in case I haven’t said it lately, I’m proud of you.”
For some reason, I became emotional and tried to hide my tears by pretending to tie my shoelace.
“But a mission’s hard on the best of young people. That early adjustment brings frustration and problems most kids your age haven’t had to deal with. And I guess a certain amount of frustration is good for the soul. It makes you grow up. But sometimes, if a fellow isn’t able to tolerate those frustrations, it can really interfere with his mission, and mix him up; it can—”
“But Dad, you said I was prepared.”
“In all the big things, yes. You’ve honored your priesthood, worked hard in your quorums, done well at seminary and in the institute this past year.”
“Well then?”
“I’m talking about the little things. Your mother and I have tried to teach you a lot about personal responsibility, and I think you are a mature person—well, most of the time!” he laughed. “But you know your mother likes to spoil you a little—”
“Aw, Dad!”
“Well, she does! And I guess that is her privilege. All I’m saying is this: there are lots of little surprises in store for the missionary. If you and I begin working on them now, then your adjustment should be easier. With the two of us living alone for the rest of the summer, we could operate on the missionary companion basis and see what we can learn.” Now he sat back and waited.
“I don’t quite understand, Dad. You mean, like you’re the senior companion and I’m the junior? Great! But then what? What will we do? Go tracting? I can see us at Sister Bigelow’s door—or Brother Young’s!” I grinned as I thought of the startled looks that would appear on our neighbor’s faces if my father and I donned dark suits and went around knocking on their doors.
“No, no tracting. You’ll see what I have in mind tomorrow. Right now, I think it’s time for us to go to sleep.” He got up and stretched.
“Okay, Dad. Pretty soon. I just want to catch a little bit of the late show, and then I’ll—”
“No late show. It’s time for bed, Elder.” And something about the look he gave me made me wonder about this new senior companion of mine.
“Rise and shine!” The call came loud and clear.
I bounded out of bed, startled. Dad usually tip-toed past my room, especially in the summer. Then I saw the clock. Six A.M.! I sunk back into the bed with a laugh.
“Stop joking, Dad!” I called as I rolled over.
The door banged open.
“Out of the bed, Elder! And make it up as soon as you’ve finished praying. You’re due in the kitchen in 20 minutes.” The door shut again, this time quietly. I stared at it in amazement.
When I finally made it to the kitchen, the table was set, but Dad had done nothing else about breakfast. He sat reading the scriptures in Mom’s rocker by the window, where the sun streamed in through her white curtains and over the African violets.
“You’re on breakfast detail, today,” he said, smiling. And, as I reached into the cupboard for a box of cold cereal, he said, “Sorry, You can’t do a missionary’s work on that. Now listen carefully; I’ll only say this once.” He held up the four fingers of his right hand.
“Basic four. Remember that from health? Every meal. Milk or milk products, meat or protein, fruits and vegetables, cereals and grains. Every meal. Basic four. Now get going.”
As I searched wildly in the refrigerator, glancing back over my shoulder at Dad from time to time, I wondered what had happened to my quiet, easy-going Father.
Without tears, but with plenty of sweat and a drop or two of blood (cut myself on the fruit knife), I managed to put a basic-four breakfast on the table by 7:00 A.M. I felt pretty proud. Dad said nothing, just knelt beside his chair and talked to the Lord as he had every morning of the world since I’d been in it, and before.
Later we cleared the table together and did the dishes. Then Dad said, “Study time Elder. Let’s sit right here.”
“Now I know you’re working mornings at the supermarket. But that gives you the afternoons free. I’ve talked with the bishop, and he was delighted with my plan. He’s changed our home teaching assignments; here’s the new list.”
I took one look at it.
“Good night, Dad! This list must contain every inactive member in the ward!”
“No, not all of them. But they’ll keep us busy. This afternoon I want you to go over the list. Think about the people, the families. Think about what we can do to help them, how we can reach them. Think especially about the Marlins—we’re going there tonight and you’re giving the lesson. Well, Son, time for me to go. See you a little before five. I’ll fix dinner tonight; since you’ll be working on the lesson.” And with that he was gone.
I guess my mind has kind of confused that first meeting with the Marlins. But I know that I did everything wrong. Preached to them instead of talking. Started coughing—not on purpose, I promise—when Brother Marlin lit a cigarette (trying to catch me off guard, I was sure). I asked Linda Marlin how school was, completely forgetting that she’d dropped out.
The next morning, Dad moved into phase two. Instead of getting me up at six, he opened the door at 5:30, dressed in his jogging outfit. Seems he thought I might have gotten out of shape since basketball season.
“Missionaries do a lot of walking—especially where you’re going. Need to be in good shape,” he said as we strode briskly into the foothills north of our house. “Now then—”
Now then? I thought. What could be next? Here we were jogging in the darkness, with not even the sun to keep us company. What could be “now then”?
“Brothers and Sisters,” he began, puffing only slightly between phrases, “Today we’re happy to welcome Elder Richard Ericson, who is new to our branch. We’d like to have Elder Ericson say a few words to us. Perhaps Elder Ericson would like to talk briefly on faith.”
“Elder Ericson,” slightly short of breath, rolled his eyes and began to mumble a pretty standard two-and-a-half minute talk on faith. At the conclusion of this wonderful woodland sermon, Elder Ericson, Senior, said, “Tomorrow, brothers and sisters, Elder Ericson will give us a real talk on faith.”
That evening, one tired junior companion spent the evening hours with a triple combination, concordance, and a copy of Joseph Smith’s, Lectures on Faith. But the next morning, I felt pretty good about the talk.
Soon we were jogging every morning; I was making a basic-four breakfast every other day and a basic four dinner on the days in between; we were making regular evening visits to our home teaching families; and I was spending the evenings memorizing scriptures and preparing for the talks I was “assigned” to give while jogging. I was also doing my own laundry, cleaning my room, and budgeting every cent I earned. I can’t say as I was crazy about the hours we were keeping—up at 5:30 and in bed before 11:00—but I really felt I was building myself into a missionary. So naturally, that was time for me to get humble.

One such pioneer in Ghana is Joseph W. B. Johnson. Brother Johnson was converted after prayerfully reading the Book of Mormon in 1964. He relates that following his conversion “one early morning, while about to prepare for my daily work, I saw the heavens open and angels with trumpets singing songs of praise unto God. I heard my name mentioned thrice: ‘Johnson, Johnson, Johnson. If you will take up my work as I will command you, I will bless you and bless your land.’ Trembling and in tears, I replied, ‘Lord, with thy help, I will do whatever you will command me.’ From that day onward, I was constrained by the Spirit to go from street to street to deliver the message that we had read from the Book of Mormon.”

When the missionaries arrived fourteen years later, there were already many unbaptized congregations that Brother Johnson had organized, identifying themselves with the Church. Some of these early converts later rejected official membership in the Church, but many accepted it. A foundation had been established upon which later missionary work would build with increasing success.

The zeal of the Korean Saints for missionary work also played a great role in the growth of the Church. One great member missionary was Lee Sung Man of the Jamsil Ward, who joined the Church in his 50s. He had many ups and downs in his life; however, he always had a positive attitude in his religious life. A shoe repairman, he piled up copies of the Book of Mormon in his shop and invited customers to take one for free if they would read it. Over 50 people, including his relatives, joined the Church because of him. He read the standard works dozens of times. They were found beside him when he died.8

Remember when the Prophet Joseph Smith went to John E. Page and said to him, “Brother Page, you have been called on a mission to Canada.”
Brother Page, struggling for an excuse, said, “Brother Joseph, I can’t go to Canada. I don’t have a coat to wear.”
The Prophet took off his own coat, handed it to John Page, and said, “Wear this,and the Lord will bless you.”
John Page went on his mission to Canada. In two years he walked something like 8,000 kilometers and baptized 600 converts.2 He was successful because he responded to an opportunity to serve his God.

Growing up on a ranch in southern Utah taught me a lot about working with animals and how dangerous they can be. We ran a herd of Hereford cows, including several bulls. I truly enjoyed working the cattle from the back of a horse and generally living a ranch life.
My family was active in the Church, and when we were living on the ranch, we always made the 30-mile trip on a gravel road to town for Sunday meetings. My parents taught me to pray, and throughout my life prayer has helped me through some difficult circumstances.
One day I learned to respond to the promptings of the Spirit quickly, and I believe it saved my life. At least it kept me from serious injury.
I was 14, and I was working not far away from the ranch house one summer day. I finished my work and was headed back through the corral that was enclosed by a very solid pole fence made of juniper posts and poles. Inside the corral was a herd of about 30 range cows, including our prime Hereford bull, Charlie, who weighed 2,000 pounds or more. My dad liked to have what he called “ton bulls,” and that certainly described Charlie.
I was walking along the pole fence, and Charlie was in my way, so I smacked him on his hip with my hand, and he scampered out of the way. I continued on past Charlie a few feet, with my back to him, when I heard what sounded like cows scuffling. I had heard that scuffling sound often and would have thought nothing of it, but something else went through my mind.
Quicker than I could even think about it, I knew I had to leap for my life. I lunged for the top pole of the fence, grabbed it, and yanked myself headfirst over onto the rocks and weeds on the other side. As I was about halfway across I had time to wonder if I had overreacted. I briefly even felt a bit embarrassed. Upon landing, I immediately looked back through the bottom poles to see what had happened, and there was Charlie’s massive head and horns, his nose about six inches from mine, staring at me through the fence with those empty, black eyes. It came to me forcefully that if I had questioned that instantaneous prompting for even the briefest moment, Charlie would have crushed me against the fence.
I learned two things from that experience. First was to never be on foot around a range herd. They don’t know you’re the boss unless you’re on a horse. Second, listen to the promptings of the Spirit without question—without hesitation. Satan is the one who tells you that you are overreacting. Living worthily (keeping the commandments, saying daily prayers, attending church, studying the scriptures) helped qualify me for spiritual gifts, especially a lightning-fast prompting to leap for my life.
I have not yet finished thanking my Heavenly Father for that blessing even though it’s been more than 50 years.

David and Jean had lived frugally and saved money. When they retired, they planned to travel, go on missions, and still leave their children an inheritance. At age 70, Jean died suddenly following a short illness.
David never imagined Jean would pass away so young before they could live their dream life. Traveling wasn’t appealing anymore. Leaving an inheritance for the children became a lower priority as they were all living comfortably.
David began to find purpose by volunteering and donating as he could to worthy causes. He continued to pray for heavenly help in his new circumstances. Inspiration followed. He felt impressed to involve the grandchildren in his volunteer efforts.
As the grandchildren grew older, he gave each of them a modest “Grandma Jean Allowance” to donate, after careful research, to a charitable cause of their choice. They bonded in their quest to bless others in memory of Grandma Jean.

The next day the girls left their backpacks behind, carrying with them only canteens and crackers and cheese for lunch, and mounted the assault on the peak. As the elevation increased, forests gave way to scattered trees, trees gave place to shrubbery, and finally, there was nothing to climb but barren, broken rock.
“For safety’s sake, we have a system—we keep talking to each other and keep each other aware of where we are,” Sister Visker said. “That way, if loose rocks fall, we’re able to give warning and get out of the way.”
“It was hard climbing,” said 16-year-old RaLene Neal. “Sometimes we were on our hands and knees.”
“But we had our fun, too,” 17-year-old Shelly Michelsen wrote in her journal. “We took turns sliding down a glacier and had a super time. Then we pushed on along the ridge until we reached our goal. I sat down as close to the edge as I dared and, like the others, looked in all directions. A cool breeze was blowing around my hot face, but I felt calm and restful. We were so filled with the beauty of our surroundings—the rippling lakes, the pine forests, mountains in all directions, even out into Wyoming. I felt very in tune with my Father. I thought of how he must have felt when he looked over all he created and saw that it was good.”
“One of the men in the ward told us before we left that it couldn’t be done, that we couldn’t climb to the top of Mount Watson,” Becky Palmer, 15, said. “So when we got there we felt like we had achieved the impossible.”
“I thought,” Shelly continued, “that even though we’re not always up in the mountains, we can still have the same feeling, the same reverence for God’s work. I think life with its hardships is a big mountain, but if we keep at it, there’s a time when we’ll reach the top and look down at what we’ve done, and we’ll know that it’s good, too.”
Maria Lecon, 15, said she was “most impressed with the spirit we felt up there. I knew that the Lo.”
For Edie Coats, 17, it was a time of gratitude. “We just moved here from Virginia, and I was a little bit scared. But the first Sunday, everyone was so friendly to me. They were coming on this trip the next Saturday, and they wanted me along! I think by coming on the trip, I really got to know the girls in my ward.”
Most of the girls kept journals of their experiences and feelings, and there on the mountaintop, the group paused and wrote poems. “I felt like every poem was sort of a journal in itself,” Shelly said, “because it came from the heart and described a special time in our lives.” At a morning meeting the next day, the young ladies read their verses to each other.
Of course, the slide down the snowbanks left a pleasant memory, too. “We used the same garbage sacks we had used before in the rain as ’sleds,’” said Rachel Palmer, 17. “The glacier was less slick at the bottom—it looked steeper than it was. But a couple of times we did have to use our feet for brakes.”
Dinner that night and breakfast the following morning were cooked and served in number 10 cans, the main “pan” carried on the excursion. “We did bring utensils and a skillet or two, but the large cans really helped keep weight in the packs to a minimum,” Sister Visker explained. Around the campfire the girls each shared one positive thing they had learned about someone else since the trip began and also drew names to see who they would be the “wood elf” for. Wood elves do mysterious, anonymous kind deeds for someone else in a camping group.
The next day was to have been spent “puddle jumping” (visiting one lake after another). “But when we got to the first one, Wall Lake,” said Marlene Neal, 15, “we liked it so well that we stayed.” Activities at the lake included cliff diving, fishing, and swimming.
“We had to check it out and make sure it was safe before we started cliff diving,” Marlene explained. “We had to make sure there were no rocks on the bottom and that the water was deep enough. And an adult supervisor trained in lifeguarding and first aid had to be there all the time, too.”
At first, the divers were scaring the fish away, so the swimmers moved to another location. Then one of those fishing scared the fish away! “Sister Visker helped me get a little fake fly way out away from the shore,” Maria said. “As soon as it landed in the water, a big fish came along. It scared me, so I threw a rock at it.”
Marlene also had her problems fishing: “I’d hook the grass at the bottom and all my lures and sinkers would get torn off. But it was still fun.”
The various activities of the day left the girls tired, but not too worn out to express their feelings during a testimony meeting. They read their favorite scriptures to each other, spoke again of their love for nature, for the gospel, and for the Lord, and talked about the lessons they had learned on their trip: lessons of perseverance, sacrifice, relaxation, and sharing the load.
“It’s unbelievable the feeling you get on top of a mountain,” said Sandy Kay, 17. “If you have an open mind and a humble heart, it can really help straighten out your priorities and help you see the reason why we’re here.”
The next morning the girls had loaded up their gear and they were on the trail home. But they weren’t rushing away. Somehow they wanted to linger just a bit longer, savoring the strength of the hills they had learned to love.

A few weeks ago, I was hurried and frazzled, with too many to-dos on my list. I had hoped to go to the temple that day but felt I was just too busy. As soon as that thought of being too busy for temple service crossed my mind, it awakened me to what I most needed to do. I left my office to walk over to the Salt Lake Temple, wondering when I was going to recapture the time I was losing. Thankfully, the Lord is patient and merciful and taught me a beautiful lesson that day.
As I sat down in the session room, a young sister leaned over and reverently whispered, “I’m really nervous. This is only my second time in the temple. Could you please help me?” How could she ever have known that those words were exactly what I needed to hear? She didn’t know, but Heavenly Father knew. He had observed my greatest need. I needed to serve. He prompted this humble young sister to serve me by inviting me to serve her. I assure you that I was the one who benefited most.