Gospel Story Finder

Deanna’s CTR B teacher held up a picture. “Does anyone know what this is?”
Deanna raised her hand. “The temple.”
Sister Dench smiled. “That’s right. Do you know which temple it is, Deanna?”
“The Denver Temple.” Deanna knew because her mother had hung a picture of it in their home.
“Why do you think Heavenly Father wants us to have temples?”
Mark raised his hand. “So that we can do baptisms for the dead.”
Danny said, “Families can be sealed there.”
“Those are both good reasons,” Sister Dench said. “What can you do now to prepare to go to the temple?”
“Pay our tithing.”
“Go to church.”
“Be honest.”
Sister Dench nodded after each answer. “During the week, I’d like each of you to think of other ways you can prepare to go to the temple.”
Deanna thought a lot about her Primary lesson that afternoon. She wanted to go to the temple someday. On the last Friday of each month, her parents drove to Denver to attend it. When they came home, they always seemed extra happy. They smiled at each other in a special way that made Deanna feel happy too.
She was imagining her own temple wedding, when five-year-old Robbie asked, “Can I use your crayons? I want to draw a picture for Grandma.”
Deanna frowned. “You broke one the last time I let you use them.”
“I didn’t mean to.”
“I don’t care. You can’t use them.”
Robbie turned away, but not before Deanna saw a tear roll down his cheek. She tried to ignore the stab of guilt she felt.
As she helped set the table for dinner that evening, Deanna told her mother about her Primary lesson. “How else can I prepare to go to the temple?” she asked, glancing at the picture of it on the dining room wall.
Her mother placed a casserole dish on the table. She didn’t answer Deanna’s question but asked, instead, “Do you know why Robbie was crying this afternoon?”
Deanna was surprised. Usually her mother wanted to talk about her Primary lesson. “I wouldn’t let him borrow my crayons,” she said reluctantly. “The last time he used them, he broke one.”
“He’s still learning how to color,” her mother said. “You could help him.”
“Are you going to make me share?”
“No, but I hope that someday you’ll want to. One thing we learn in the temple is how important families are.”
Deanna thought about that the rest of the evening. After school the next day, she noticed that three-year-old Kevin had messed up the jigsaw puzzle she’d been putting together. It had five hundred pieces, and it had taken her a long time to do as much as she had.
She started to yell at him, then remembered her Primary lesson. “It’s all right, Kevin,” she said. “I know you just wanted to help me with it.” She went to his room and found a simple wooden puzzle. “Here, I’ll show you how to work this one.” She spent an hour helping Kevin fit the pieces of his puzzle together over and over again.
After dinner, she took her box of crayons to Robbie’s room. “Do you still want to use these?”
He nodded eagerly. She sat down beside him and helped him with his picture.
For the rest of the week, she tried hard to help her brothers. Sometimes they still annoyed her, but they also made her smile—like when Kevin planted a big kiss on her cheek, and when Robbie threw his arms around her and said, “You’re the bestest big sister in the world!”
“How many of you remember what we talked about last week?” Sister Dench asked on Sunday.
Everyone raised his hand.
“What are some ways you thought of that we can prepare now to go to the temple?” she asked.
“Obey the Word of Wisdom,” Danny said.
“Keep the Sabbath Day holy,” Janet volunteered.
“Those are both good ways,” Sister Dench agreed. “Does anyone else have any other ideas?”
Deanna raised her hand. “Be nice to my brothers.” Someone snickered, and she ducked her head in embarrassment.
When she raised her head, she saw that Sister Dench was smiling. “Thank you, Deanna. That’s one of the most important things we can do to prepare to go to the temple.”
“Why is it so important?” Danny asked.
“The temple is about families. How do you think Jesus feels when we can’t get along with our brothers and sisters?”
“He probably feels sad,” Danny said.
“I think you’re right. Jesus wants us to treat our families here the way we’ll treat them in heaven.”
Deanna remembered Robbie’s hug and Kevin’s kiss. She could hardly wait for Primary to be over so that she could tell them how much she loved them.

When I was a new mom, I felt stifled in the daily routine of childcare. It was hard to watch my husband and others pursue exciting new paths while I was stuck in our tiny apartment all day caring for two small children. I wanted to love being a mother, but I was struggling. So I turned to Heavenly Father in prayer. I asked Him to help me know how to change my outlook and myself. The answers I received are simple yet powerful:
Count your blessings. When I concentrate on the good things in my life instead of the negative things, I feel grateful and happy.
Find the beauty and joy in the everyday. I noticed how often my kids laughed and made me laugh. I loved being able to watch them grow every day. I began to delight in accomplishing household tasks, even those I had to do several times a day. This is a blessing of the Spirit that I gained through prayer and effort.
Play with your kids. Taking the time to play with my kids has been a huge blessing. It helps me prioritize my time and minimize my distractions, and it gives my kids less time for watching TV, getting into mischief, and pestering each other! When I play with my kids, they’re happy, and when they’re happy, so am I. Joining in their play helps me develop a stronger relationship with them and allows me to see the world through their eyes. It reminds me why the frustrations of parenthood are worth it.
Look outside yourself. When I focus on others, I don’t dwell on my own problems. This frees me from feeling frustrated, sad, or discouraged and helps me replace those feelings with the pure love of Christ. I know this to be true, but I have to relearn it now and then. I don’t do everything I do for myself; I do it for the precious souls God has placed in my charge. I grow to be more like Him as I teach them to be more like Him.
Maintain a long-term perspective. When I get frustrated with the seemingly endless tasks before me, I remind myself how precious and crucial this time of life is. My kids will be with me for just a short time, and I cherish the time I have to help them learn and watch them grow into the amazing people Heavenly Father wants them to be.
Following these promptings has completely changed my perspective on motherhood. Before, I felt like I was missing out on life’s grand adventures. But now I know that my kids are a grand adventure. The excitement and purpose I was looking for was right in front of me the whole time. I’m not just a maid; I’m a teacher, a counselor, a confidant. Motherhood is both a great blessing and a great challenge, and I’m grateful for the ways in which it stretches me, teaches me, and refines me to become the person Heavenly Father knows I can be.

The Taylors heard the restored gospel as a result of some unusual circumstances. In 1836, Parley P. Pratt was sent to Toronto by revelation to preach the gospel. Concerning Elder Pratt’s mission to Canada, Elder Heber C. Kimball had prophesied, “From the things growing out of this mission, shall the fullness of the gospel spread into England.” (See Roberts, page 35.) Elder Pratt received from a stranger a letter of introduction to a John Taylor in Toronto. But when he called at the Taylors’ home, his reception there was polite but not exactly cordial. Later, after presenting his message to the ministers in the city, Elder Pratt prepared to leave. Valise in hand, he was saying good-bye to John Taylor when a neighbor—a member of the Taylors’ religious study group—came in, offered her home for Elder Pratt to preach in, and proposed to lodge and feed him. As a result, John and Leonora Taylor heard Elder Pratt preach. This was John’s response to his group of friends:

“We are here, ostensibly in search of the truth. Hitherto we have fully investigated other creeds and doctrines and proven them false. Why should we fear to investigate Mormonism? This gentleman, Mr. Pratt, has brought to us many doctrines that correspond with our own views. … We have prayed to God to send us a messenger, if He has a true Church on earth. … I desire to investigate his doctrines and claims to authority, and shall be very glad if some of my friends will unite with me in this investigation. But if no one will unite with me, be assured I shall make the investigation alone. If I find his religion true, I shall accept it, no matter what the consequences may be; but if false, then I shall expose it.” (See Roberts, pages 38–39.)

For three weeks, John Taylor followed Elder Pratt from place to place, copying down sermons as Elder Pratt delivered them—and then privately comparing them with the scriptures. Satisfied that the missionary was teaching the truth, John and Leonora Taylor joined the Church. Twenty-eight-year-old John was ordained an elder and was placed in charge of the Church in Canada when the missionaries returned to their homes.

Sometimes we are faced with keeping our covenants when there seems to be no logical reason to do so. I listened to a single sister tell of her experience of “coming to trust the Lord completely.” Her life had not worked out as she had expected. Sound familiar? This period of soul-searching was marked by changing jobs, new financial pressures, tugs from worldly philosophies. Now listen to what she did. She sat down with other sisters in her ward and found that they too were searching to find the peace the gospel brings. She asked for a priesthood blessing. She valiantly carried forward in her calling. She studied and tried to more fully commit her love, appreciation, and conviction to Jesus. She prayed. “I cried to the Lord,” she said, “and told Him I would do whatever He would ask of me.” She did all this despite those difficulties. And do you know what happened? No, her eternal companion did not appear on her doorstep. But peace made its way into her heart, and life got better.

I hold in sacred memory two priesthood bearers who had qualified for the Spirit of God to go with them on the errand to which the Lord called them. They had found the restored gospel themselves in America. They were the Lord’s servants who first spoke of that gospel to two of my European ancestors.

One of those ancestors was a young girl living on a small farm in Switzerland. Another was a young man, an orphan and an immigrant to the United States from Germany, living in St. Louis, Missouri.

Both of them heard a priesthood holder testify of the restored gospel—for the girl by the fireplace of her little home in Switzerland, and for the boy it was sitting in the balcony of a rented hall in America. Both of them knew by the Spirit that the message those elders brought to them was true.

The boy and the girl chose to be baptized. The two of them met for the first time on the dusty trail years later, walking hundreds of miles to the mountains of western America. They talked as they walked. What they talked about was the miraculous blessing that in all the world, the servants of God had found them and even more miraculous, that they knew their message was true.

They fell in love and were married. And because of a testimony of the Spirit, which began as they heard the words of priesthood holders under the influence of the Holy Ghost, they were sealed for eternity by priesthood power. I am among the tens of thousands of descendants of that boy and that girl who bless the names of two priesthood holders who brought the ministrations of the Spirit of God with them as they climbed the hill in Switzerland and rose to speak in that meeting in St. Louis.

Some folks just enjoy being together. They’d rather be with each other than with anybody else. They have things in common. They know when to listen and when to talk. They laugh and joke. Sometimes they’re silly. They also understand when there’s a need to be silent. In short, they respect, admire, and accommodate each other.
Now, imagine that same kind of relationship existing, not just between people, but between two wards. That’s the way you’d feel if you lived in Lawrenceburg or Columbia, two towns in Tennessee.
Go on a hayride in Columbia, and a lot of the teenagers from Lawrenceburg will be there, too. When there’s a picnic at the Davy Crockett State Park, just outside Lawrenceburg, you can be sure some kids from Columbia will be there, carrying a watermelon or two to make sure there are enough refreshments.
“We’re real close,” explained Misti McDow, 13, of the Lawrenceburg Ward. “Maybe it’s because we’re nearly all kin of some sort, and the ones that aren’t seem to get adopted in. We share our feelings; we talk about nearly everything. We’re just good friends.”
“Lawrenceburg and Columbia are so close together,” said Paul McDow, 16, also from Lawrenceburg. “When one ward has an activity, it seems natural to invite the other one. That way about 40 people come. We’ve had roller skating parties, firesides, and dances together. The kids from Columbia are a lot of fun.”
Paul is the youth council chairman of the Franklin Tennessee Stake, as well as an active participant in Future Farmers of America and 4-H, where his success in raising livestock has won him quite a few awards. He also serves as studentbody president of his high school. “School activities keep me busy, and it seems like there’s always plenty of work to do. But besides my family, the Church comes first. And I’m so close to people in the Church that they seem like family.”
Jason Sawyer, 14, of the Columbia Ward, agreed. “Most of my friends are sons of somebody in the ward. My dad’s the bishop, and I spend a lot of time with his counselor’s sons.”
“I spend a lot of time with my cousins, Tre, Joe, and Becky Pennington,” said Brian Greene, 15, the teachers quorum president of the Columbia Ward. “They live nearby and we do everything together—swimming, fishing, basketball, baseball. I’m running up and down the road to their house a lot. And we always go to church meetings together.”
The Greene’s home is a stone block building that for many years served as a meetinghouse for the Saints living in the hills around Columbia. “Now it’s our house,” Brian’s brother Jason, the 13-year-old deacons quorum president, explained. “But we still have ward activities here sometimes.”
It’s a peaceful location, shaded by trees, just on the flat where Catheys Creek bends. “Sometimes if there’s a lot of rain we have to sandbag,” Jason said. “But it’s still nice.”
It was especially nice the night Columbia Ward hosted a hayride there. The creek chilled the watermelons just right. Big fires scorched the hot dogs, but ketchup and mustard made the charcoal flavor blend in perfectly. In the fading light, some of the young men threw a basketball through a hoop.
“It’s neat when the whole ward comes to your own backyard,” Jason said. “I like them to come here. I have lots to show them. And you don’t worry about being late for a meeting in your own yard.”
After the hot dog roast, when the fire had burned down, Brother Collin McKennon spoke briefly about effective use of time.
“It’s a precious commodity,” he said. “But all hours are not alike in value. How valuable your time is depends in part on what you decide to do with it.”
Brother McKennon, the activities committee chairman, is the kind of guy who can put an arm on your shoulder, maybe tease you a little, and let you know the world’s okay. The teenagers like him, and they listen when he talks.
Just the same, there was a lot of background noise. But it wasn’t kids whispering to each other. It was frogs. Hundreds of them. Croaking, chirping almost. A thousand rusty springs in a chorus of constant squeaking. Perhaps they were warning each other about the catch-and-release frog hunt later that night.
Out on the dirt road, Brian and Jason’s father, Dale Greene, fired up the tractor he’d borrowed from a neighbor. Everyone jumped on the two trailers behind it, and it roared on up Love Branch Road. The night was clear. Stars were bright as they are only when you’re way outside, away from haze and street lamps.
The tractor noise nearly drowned out conversation, but everybody sang songs and told stories anyway. And threw hay. The youth from the Columbia Ward talked about their plans to get up the next morning at 3:00 A.M. to work in the bishops’ regional storehouse and cannery in Nashville.
“The work area is steamy, and you get wet, and you’re sleepy ’cause you get up so early,” said Melissa McKennon, 14, the Mia Maid president. “We work a long, long time. But we enjoy working together, kids with other kids, adults with the kids. It’s good to see everybody working together on something.”
“It makes me feel good to know I’m helping people less fortunate than I am,” said Stephanie Rawlins, 14.
“We usually aren’t doing anything early Saturday morning anyway,” said Deron Sawyer, 18. “Why waste a day when you can be helping somebody instead?”
“I figure every can you put in there feeds somebody. And who knows? Someday it could be you or me,” Brian Greene said.
Like several other Scouts in the area, Brian is doing an Eagle Scout service project at the cannery. Scouts have built concrete ramps, painted yellow lines, and helped organize schedules for canning and warehouse cleaning.
The tractor pulled into the woods, the engine still whining. The road became a snake, winding corner after corner through the dense woods. Every once in a while, at a clearing or up on a hillside, house lights would appear and all the youth would shout hello. Folks on the porch would wave and shout their greetings in return. In the hills, everybody knows everybody.
Another stretch of dirt road took the hayriders beneath an overpass, along a stretch of the Natchez Trace (an early trade route of trappers and Indians), then back to Catheys Creek and the Greene’s house.
Some attempt was made to stage the frog hunt. A few of the hardier souls, armed with flashlights and gunnysacks, did roll up their pant legs and wander in the shallow stream, but mostly the frogs got away.
“We don’t go frog hunting very often,” Melissa explained. “We just wanted to show you what they look like.”
The next morning, the Columbia Ward did go on the welfare assignment and spent the whole morning canning green beans. “We had done 1,050 cans when I lost count,” said Tre Pennington.
It was a lot of work. It left you feeling like you never wanted to see anything green again. But it did give everyone a chance to work together. And while they worked, they answered questions about life as a Latter-day Saint, about life in the Church.
“When the missionaries were teaching me, I knew right away that it was true. I didn’t have any doubt. My dad got baptized; then I got baptized the next Saturday,” said Stephanie Rawlins. “I enjoy being in the church I know is true. Friends I have who aren’t members can’t talk the same way. They don’t understand. With my friends in the Church I can open up; I can talk about things that are really important.”
“I’ve thought many times about what it means to have the priesthood,” said David Dawson, 16. “It means I’m more than just somebody on the street. I know where I can be in the eternities. Holding the priesthood is like being with God every day. It’s a great feeling if you live right.”
“Most of my nonmember friends go to their own churches,” Jason Sawyer said. “If you talk about religion to them, they look at you funny. But when I tell them our religion says we have the right to hold an office in the priesthood, they think that’s quite an honor.”
Jason also talked a little bit about what it’s like to be the stepson of a bishop who makes doughnuts for a living. “He gets up early to start baking, then sleeps in the middle of the day. A lot of times he’s gone doing church work. But he loves us, and he tries to be there when we need him. Besides, we always have plenty of refreshments!”
“That does it!” Melissa said, setting the last can of beans in a cardboard box. “I’m tired, but I’m not so tired that I couldn’t eat breakfast. Where’s a McDonald’s?”
By noon, the Columbia Ward was headed back from Nashville. But instead of going straight home, they took a detour to Lawrenceburg. The youth there wanted to return the favor of being invited to the hayride, so they had invited Columbia to a late afternoon picnic. While everyone was gathering at the chapel, the Lawrenceburg youth shared some of their thoughts about being a Latter-day Saint in Tennessee.
Paula McGuire, 15, talked about the closeness she feels in her ward and between the two wards.
“I love to be with the youth of the Church,” she said. “Other kids at school see us and think we’re strange to be so close. But in the Church you do seem closer. We really are like brothers and sisters.”
Regina Luker, 16, the Laurel president, told about her efforts to tell an atheist friend about the gospel. “It’s hard to get her to believe in the Lord,” she said. “But I obey the commandments, and I try to be a good example. We need to show we can be trusted.”
And Paul McDow spoke again, this time about teaching a lesson about the Church in his history class at school, about reading the scriptures, about saving money for a mission, and about living in the hills of Tennessee.
“I love it,” he said. “I couldn’t live anywhere else. The only thing that would make it better would be if there were more Church members.”
The youth from Lawrenceburg took the youth from Columbia on a quick tour of their town, then over to Davy Crockett State Park, where they ate fruit, sandwiches, and cookies. There was a short program, featuring Paul dressed up like a frog, “Davy Croak-it”; and by the time the sun set, the two groups went their separate ways, promising to get together again soon.
If you’re ever in middle Tennessee, stop in Columbia. You can go in to Park’s Feed Store, on the main square. Ask the men shucking lima beans to describe their home town. They’ll tell you “it’s the mule capital of the world.” There’s even a Mule Days celebration once a year. The men will tell you that U.S. president James K. Polk was born here. They’ll tell you about the big Civil War battle fought near Columbia in “18 and 65,” how you can still find sabers and shells out in the hills.
Then go to Lawrenceburg and ask the people there about their city. They’ll tell you that Davy Crockett lived here while he was a Congressman, after his explorations and before he died at the Alamo. They’ll show you his statue in the town square. They’ll even walk down the street with you to the plaque that marks the spot where his house once stood.
But ask Latter-day Saint youth in either city what it’s like to live in Tennessee, and you’re likely to hear a description, not only of the town their ward’s in, but of their neighboring ward as well. Of the people, the service, and the fun. Of the joy and the spiritual growth that can come through the influence of good friends and fellow Saints.
Because when you live in either ward down here, you live in both.

Certainly Sister Sylvia Rosen has learned the power of faithful patience. Sylvia is a young single mother from Utah with four children, one of whom is affected by a severe developmental disorder resembling autism. At a time of already great challenge in her life, she was diagnosed with advanced cancer. With renewed faith in our Heavenly Father, she let go of some activities and devoted herself to her top priorities: taking care of her family and pursuing medical treatment for her condition.

Today she continues to struggle with life’s challenges, but all her activities are mediated by a beautiful spirit of waiting on the Lord. As her health permits, she makes gifts for friends and delivers meals to neighbors in need of comfort. The more she gives to others, the more peaceful becomes her countenance. “I need all my faith and patience,” she says. “I am fighting for my life.”

Sister Rosen has learned the truth of Isaiah’s promise: “They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles” (Isa. 40:31).

Thus, the Fourth principle is that God prepares us to face our trials. I want to share with you how I learned and can testify of the goodness of God and the reality of our Savior's great atoning sacrifice on our behalf and how this carried me through a very difficult time in my life. It is really easy to be obedient when things are going well in the calm between the storms that represent the trials in our lives.

I distinctly recall one such moment of calm. It was a beautiful sunny fall afternoon and I was driving past our local golf course on the way to the grocery store. Our last child had recently been born, a daughter after four very active sons. At that moment I felt the love of Heaven so profoundly and felt blessed beyond description. It seemed nothing could go wrong; life was very, very good. As I reflect on that moment today I am grateful for the tender mercy of that moment and the pause it gave me to appreciate the goodness of a loving Heavenly Father. And the strength it gave me to face the approaching storm.

From the very beginning our four sons have given us a run for our money. They were and are as active and adventurous as you can imagine, it is all I have known and I have loved every minute of it. However; active and adventurous, for our family, go hand in hand with emergency rooms and urgent care centers, sometimes including a trip to each on the same day with the same son. A tetanus shot and glue in the afternoon at the urgent care center for laceration and surgery to repair a digital nerve at the emergency room in the evening. It was an interesting moment when the nurse asked when this son had received his last tetanus shot and I responded; four hours ago.

When the urgent care opened in our community I may have been the only one thinking how much it would save us in emergency room costs. During, what we call our ER phase, we kept a running tally on how many days, weeks and finally months we were ER free. Before we stopped keeping track, the longest time between visits was four months. During this time we accumulated countless stitches, staples, broken arms, skull fractures, surgeries, hospitalizations, disease diagnoses, ambulance rides, and life flights.

Going to the ER became so routine that I knew when superglue could be used at home in lieu of stitches. In addition, as it turns out, being on a first name basis with the ER nurses and doctors can be valuable. To this day, my husband and I employ a sophisticated system to determine who "gets" to take the injured child to the emergency room. It is called Rock, Paper, Scissors. Loser goes. I can tell you that I win more than I lose.

Because of these experiences we learned to navigate traumatic situations with our children, listen to the promptings of the spirit, witness miracles through the power of the priesthood, and embrace the life we have with our children.I tell you this because these experiences helped form my foundation for what was to come. On February 15, 2005, around 4:00 in the afternoon I received a phone call from a dear friend. She said to me; Kristie, I hate to be the bearer of bad news; your husband and boys have been in an accident by our home. You need to come right away. I immediately prayed for the safety of my husband Eric, and our sons Jake and Tyson, who were all in the car. At that time Jake was 15, Tyson 12, Cody 9, Kade 7, and our daughter, Katelyn, was 5 months old.

Prior to the phone call, I had taken our youngest son to a friend's house and our daughter was still in her car seat asleep. I put her in the car along with our 9 year-old son and drove the 2 short miles from our home to the scene of the accident.

As you drive south on this country road there is a small hill that blocks your view of the upcoming intersection. As we came over the hill we saw numerous emergency vehicles. I was quickly diverted to the ambulance that had our son, Tyson, in it. He, I was told, was the most critical. As soon as I got in the ambulance, I saw that our good friend, a paramedic, was working on him. I was relieved because of my confidence in his abilities. I knew Tyson needed a priesthood blessing and made arrangements for a family member to meet us at the hospital. I was allowed to ride in the ambulance with Tyson, and dear friends stepped in to care for our younger children. It's interesting what you remember at times like this; I remember being handed things from Tyson's pockets, notes from friends, his watch, and thinking these are such ordinary things for a time like this, but I needed them with me.

When we arrived at the hospital, as you can imagine it was a scene of ordered chaos; I was again relieved to see doctors I knew from previous visits and that I had confidence in working on Eric, Jake, and Tyson. At some point in this chaos they were each given a priesthood blessing. Jake had been unconscious but was awake and concerned about Tyson and Eric. He sustained a broken bone on the top of his foot and a concussion. Eric was concerned about Jake and Tyson, but had significant injures that included three crushed vertebrae, a broken clavicle, a sternum that was cracked in six places, and a hip contusion. The injuries to his chest and back caused him a great deal of pain and impaired his breathing.

Tyson's injuries were critical. He was intubated on arrival at the hospital, and rushed for a CT scan. During the CT scan he coded. Our good friend, the same paramedic, started CPR and was able to get his heart beating again. I was grateful to be able to be by his side while other family members attended to Eric and Jake.

The CT showed that Tyson had sustained a shattered spleen, multiple liver lacerations, and bone fractures. He was immediately taken into surgery. His spleen was removed and his liver was packed in an attempt to stop the bleeding. It was determined he should be life-flighted to Primary Children's Hospital in Salt Lake City, Utah. A priesthood blessing was administered before Tyson left. Arrangements were made and we were soon in Salt Lake City. Again, he was immediately taken into surgery. During the second surgery he coded multiple times and was resuscitated. I was able to be with him when he was brought into the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit. Tyson was given a priesthood blessing and had the best medical care that was available; including IV's, blood transfusions, platelets and clotting factors. None of this was able to stop the bleeding. His internal bleeding was so severe that it was impossible for the medical team to replace the blood he was losing.

My husband was not able to accompany me to Salt Lake because his injuries were so significant. It was very difficult for him and for me to be separated. A family member stayed with him during the night and I will be forever grateful that they were there with him when I called to tell him that Tyson had died in the early morning hours; eleven hours and two surgeries after the accident.

I can tell you that this is not what I prayed for. As I was en route to Salt Lake City I remember thinking everything would be alright but I didn't know what side of "alright" I was going to be on. I of course, prayed for Tyson to be healed. I really wanted him to be able to show his friends the super cool scars he would have from the surgeries.

Elder Oaks taught, "We do all that we can for the healing of a loved one, and then we trust in the Lord for the outcome." Our faith must be in the Lord and submit to His will and not what we think the outcome should be.

I do not have the eternal perspective that our Father has; however, I trust him. There is great comfort in the words of Mormon found in Mormon chapter 5 verse 23, "know ye not that ye are in the hands of God?" and Doctrine and Covenants section 42 verse 48 "he that hath faith in me to be healed, and is not appointed unto death, shall be healed". We do not know why Tyson's life on this earth was a short 12 and a half years but if we trust in God, we do not need to know everything.

I was amazed out how quickly friends and family responded when they heard about the accident. In the Kimball Building on the second floor there is a plaque with a quote from President Kimball. It reads, "God does notice us, and he watches over us. But it is usually through another person that he meets our needs." I testify that this is true.

God poured out many tender mercies upon me and my family in preparing us for this trial; I had experience with hospitals, doctors, and paramedics. I knew Tyson had received excellent medical care. I was able to talk to Tyson in the ambulance before he lost consciousness, family and friends quickly surrounded us, my younger brother was in medical school at the University of Utah; he along with other family members and friends were with Tyson when he arrived. His medical knowledge was a great comfort to me. Family and friends took care of Eric, Jake, Cody and Kade while I rushed to be with Tyson. Arrangements were made so I could fly to Salt Lake and be with Tyson and arrive shortly after he died.

After Tyson died, kindness was again extended to our family when this same individual arranged for my husband and sons to fly to Salt Lake to be with me and Katelyn. Looking back I am still humbled by the sacrifices family, friends, and others made on our behalf.

I pursued an education, both undergraduate and a law degree. I was married midway through my legal education. I had my first son the year after I passed the bar. I had babies, and my husband and I loved and nurtured them while we were both working. It was busy, sometimes hectic; we were stretched and sometimes tired. I supported him, and he supported me. Family was, and still is, our top priority. My husband and I sought inspiration in these choices and in the timing. It was what we felt impressed to do. We were trying to let God prevail.
From a financial and professional perspective, it would have made sense to put off having children until I was more established in my career. But in letting the Lord author our stories, we sometimes do things that the world can’t make sense of. I juggled pregnancy, birthing babies, nurturing children, carpools, little league, Church responsibilities, being a supportive spouse, and my professional pursuits. It was a joyful juggle I wouldn’t change. We felt confident in our course because we were letting God prevail.

Eric stood in the darkened living room, looking out the window at the lighted spires of the temple on the hill. It was wonderful to have the temple so near.
Now that his family had moved, the temple was within walking distance, instead of several hundred miles away. In fact, his mother had walked there tonight.
Eric’s father came into the room. “Time for bed, son.” He glanced out the window, then quickly pulled the curtains shut.
“I was looking at the temple,” Eric said. “It’s beautiful when it’s all lit up. Don’t you think so?”
“Sure,” Dad answered gruffly. “Now head up to bed.”
Eric went upstairs to his room and began to undress. He was worried about his father. Several years ago, Dad had been an active member of the Church and had gone with Mom to the temple often. Now he never went to church with his family, and Mom attended the temple alone.
Eric finished putting on his pajamas and knelt beside his bed. “Heavenly Father,” he prayed, “please help us find a way to help Dad go back to church.”
It was the same thing Eric had prayed about since he was seven years old. Now, even after three years, he hadn’t given up.
When Eric finished his prayer, he climbed into bed. He stared at the dark ceiling, thinking. After a while, he heard Mom come upstairs. She poked her head into his room. “Are you still awake?”
“Yes—I can’t go to sleep.”
Mom walked in and sat down on the bed. “What’s bothering you?”
“Why did Dad stop going to church?”
Mom took a deep breath. “One of the ward members said something that offended him. He’s never been able to forgive that person.”
“Do you think he’ll ever decide to go back to church?”
“I don’t know. I pray for him all the time.”
“I pray for him too.” Tears began to well up in Eric’s eyes, and he brushed them away. He could see that his mother was crying too. She put her arms around him.
“Heavenly Father loves your dad,” she said. “He knows what he needs. We have to pray and then listen to what Heavenly Father tells us to do.”
Suddenly Eric thought of something. “Mom, I have to give a talk in Primary next Sunday. I think I’ll invite Dad to come and hear it.”
“That’s a good idea,” his mother answered. “But don’t be too disappointed if he doesn’t.” She squeezed his hand. “Good night, Eric.”
“Good night, Mom.”
The next morning, Eric felt like his insides were ready to burst. He had decided that he’d give a talk about why he loved to go to church. Then, when Dad came to hear it, maybe he’d remember all the good feelings he used to have a long time ago.
When he found Dad alone in the bedroom, he felt that it was just the right time to talk to him. “Dad,” he began, “I’m giving a talk in Primary next Sunday. I’d really like you to come and hear it.”
Dad didn’t look up from the shoelace he was working on. “I’m sorry, son—I can’t come.” He looked up at Eric. “But you can practice your talk on me. I’ll be glad to listen, no matter how many times you want to practice giving it!”
That night, Eric wrote his talk. It was the most difficult one he had ever written, because he was writing it “to” his dad. He wrote about the good feelings he had when he went to Primary and Sacrament meeting. He didn’t write anything about wishing Dad would come to church, even though he wanted to.
When he had finished, he went to find Dad. Halfway down the stairs he stopped. Dad was sitting quietly in front of the living room window, staring out. Was he doing the same thing Eric had done the night before? Was he looking at the temple? Eric turned and went back upstairs. Practicing the talk could wait.
That week, Eric practiced his talk many times on Dad, praying each time that something he said in it would make Dad want to come to church on Sunday.
But when Sunday finally came, only his mother and his sister, Lisa, were there to hear him. Eric had a hard time giving the talk. He had to keep swallowing to keep from crying.
On the way home, Eric stared out the car window. He had wanted so much for his dad to go to church. Finally he said, “I’d like to walk around the temple this afternoon.”
“Me, too,” said Lisa. “We talked about temples in my Primary class.”
“That’s a good idea” Mom agreed. “It’s such a beautiful day—that would be a perfect Sunday thing to do.”
When the family was seated at the dinner table, Eric told his father. “After dinner, we’re going for a walk around the temple. Do you want to come too?”
Eric’s father chewed for a minute. Then he spoke. “I’d like that.”
Eric felt warm all over as they walked together on the temple grounds. They didn’t talk as they walked, but Mom and Dad were holding hands, and he could tell that they felt something special too.
After they had walked for a while, Dad stopped them. “I want to talk to all of you. How about sitting down over there?”
They sat down on a bench, and Dad sat on the grass beside them. “I don’t know how to explain this,” he began. “Since we moved here, the temple has been, well, ‘following’ me. I see it out the windows of the house. I drive past it on my way to work. It stands over me when I’m taking the garbage out to the curb.” Tears began to stream down his cheeks. “The temple has turned on a light in my heart where there used to be only darkness.”
Eric’s heart began to pound, and tears filled his eyes too.
Dad continued, “This week, as I listened to Eric’s talk, I realized that I’ve been missing too much. I’m going to go to church again, if that’s OK with all of you.”
“Oh, Dad!” Eric cried. “It’s more than OK—it’s fantastic!” When he threw his arms around his dad, he found himself entangled with two other pairs of arms, as Lisa and Mom joined in the hug.
Dad looked up at the temple spires. “Soon I’ll be able to come here with your mom again,” he said. “But it won’t be easy. I’ll need your help and prayers.”
Eric and Mom looked at each other and smiled. “For as long as you need them, Dad,” Eric said.

Although the afternoon was crisp and cold, inside our house we were warm and snug. In my parents’ room, my three sisters and I were all busily wrapping presents for the Fitzpatricks.* Ever since my early childhood we’d been friends with the Fitzpatricks, and I was always painfully aware of how little the parents and their four children had.
With the gifts in a pile, my sisters and I formed an assembly line wrapping a present and taking it to my mother. After checking the contents of the package, she would decide who would get what, and then sign it “Santa.” She would deposit the gift in a large plastic bag, and we would go to the next one. Using this method we quickly and efficiently finished wrapping the presents in about an hour.
Later that night we all piled into the family van with those plastic bags and headed toward the trailer park where the Fitzpatricks lived. After parking the van, my dad got out, walked to the trailer, and waited at the door. When he was sure no one was home, he unloaded the bags and left them on the porch.
The following Sunday I sat with my family in sacrament meeting. Sitting still and trying to listen was not something I did readily, and soon I became mesmerized by the pictures I was drawing. At one point I glanced up to see Sister Fitzpatrick at the pulpit. But I was only vaguely aware of what she was saying. Suddenly my sister Audrey jabbed me with her elbow and whispered that she was talking about us.
Streaming down her face were tears, and her voice shook as she spoke. She told the congregation how they didn’t have money for Christmas and they weren’t sure what to do. Upon returning that night, they found the bags of presents on their porch. She warmly thanked the gift givers.
The Fitzpatricks never found out who left the Christmas presents for them, although from the pulpit Sister Fitzpatrick said she knew the gifts came from someone in the congregation. Amazingly, tears came to my eyes, and I had to look down to brush them away. That was when I first felt like an angel.

On one occasion I was organizing a new stake on Upolu Island in Samoa. As is customary, we were conducting interviews with local priesthood leaders, asking each to suggest a few names of brethren of stature to be considered for a call.
One dignified branch president had walked from the other side of the island. He stood before us in a white shirt and tie, with a lavalava, or skirt, tied about his waist. He wore no shoes; he had never owned shoes.
I asked for names. He gave but one: “Bishop Iono will be our stake president.” He was right, for that had already been revealed to me. But I did not feel he should make the announcement.
So I asked for other names, for we had counselors and others to call as well. He replied, holding up his finger, “Just one name.” “But,” I said, “suppose he could not serve, would you not like to name others?” This humble priesthood president then asked me a question, “Brother Packer, are you asking me to go against the witness of the Spirit?”
How marvelous! This wonderful man had reminded me that each member of the Church, in prayer, can receive confirmation that the fifth article of faith has been honored.
“We believe that a man [and this applies to sisters as well] must be called of God, by prophecy, and by the laying on of hands by those who are in authority, to preach the Gospel and administer in the ordinances thereof.”

I illustrate this principle with a personal experience. When I was young, I decided to prepare for the entrance exam to the best business schools in France. This preparation, which lasted a year, was very challenging. At the beginning of the year I decided that whatever the heaviness of the task, I would never let my studies prevent me from attending my Sunday meetings or from participating in an institute class once a week. I even accepted a call to serve as the clerk in my young adult ward. I was confident that the Lord would recognize my faithfulness and would help me accomplish my objectives.
At the end of the year, when exams approached, I felt that I had done my best. When I arrived for the examination at the most reputable school, I had full confidence that the Lord would answer my desires. Unfortunately, the oral exam in my strongest subject was an unexpected disaster—I received a grade that prevented me from getting into this highly coveted school. I was distraught. How could the Lord have abandoned me when I had persevered in my faithfulness?
When I presented myself at the oral exam for the second school on my list, I was filled with doubt. In this school the exam that was weighted the heaviest was an interview with a jury presided over by the director of the school. The beginning of the interview was normal—until I was asked a seemingly insignificant question: “We know that you studied a lot to prepare for this exam. But we would be interested to know what your activities were outside of your studies.”
My heart skipped a beat! For one year I had done only two things: study and go to church! I feared that the jury would negatively interpret a description of my membership in the Church. But in one second I made the decision to remain faithful to my principles.
For 15 minutes or so, I described my activities in the Church: my Sabbath meetings, institute classes, and responsibilities as the ward clerk. When I had finished, the director of the school spoke.
“You know, when I was young, I studied in the United States,” he said. “One of my best friends was a Mormon. He was a remarkable young man, someone who had great human qualities. I consider Mormons to be very good people.”
That day I received one of the best grades possible, which allowed me to get into this school with a place of honor.
I thanked the Lord for His goodness. It took me several years, however, to understand the miraculous blessing of not getting into the first school. In the second school, I met key people. The benefits of my association with them became evident throughout the entire length of my career and are still important in my life and in the lives of members of my family.

If adversity strikes, don’t succumb to the temptation to counsel the Lord. Pray for strength to get you through. President Harold B. Lee used to say: “Never put a question mark where the Lord has put a period.”

Wise counsel is also helpful. Dear Elder Neal A. Maxwell called at our home the evening that our son was killed and gave us some very comforting counsel that really made a difference. He said: “I know this is very hard for you, but try to think of it this way. You now have a son where we all hope to be someday.”

Although Bernadett doesn’t hear from her family, she is grateful for letters from branch members—especially the youth—back home. And she has a lot of support around her in the mission. Her first zone leader was the missionary who had baptized her in Dunaújváros a year and a half earlier! “When he baptized me, he was a beginner missionary,” she says. “Now I was a beginner, and he was more experienced. I felt very proud to be able to work at the same time with him.”

“Turn on your lights”—Sister Sharon Eubank’s message for October 2017—was the theme of our stake Relief Society activity for this year 2018.
The purpose was to unite sisters, increase their self-­worth, and enlighten their minds toward ministering and temple preparation.
All were excited. The preparations from the stake activity committee began. They started planning, organizing, and assigning sisters for the activity.
We were five wards and one branch, which was a big number to coordinate. Each ward’s sisters were assigned with a topic to present on the day of activity with a skit or presentation.
And these were the topics covered:
Being righteous
Being articulate/different/distinct
Being happy
Preparing for the temple
Being self-reliant
Ministering/the worth of souls
Each ward started preparing for their presentation on the activity day. The long wait came to an end.
?It was a beautiful morning. When the activity began, there were not as many sisters as was expected. However, they began with an opening hymn and prayer. And slowly more sisters started coming in. There was a message from the stake Relief Society president. She displayed different kinds of lights and explained about each light, comparing it with the qualities of the sisters. It was a beautiful message.
Then the actual part of the sisters came. It was time for them to showcase or present their topics.
Here I would like to talk about the dedication and the commitment of one group of sisters of a small branch of another city which belongs to our stake. They had to travel two-and-half to three hours to join the activity. They began with the presentation of being righteous women. They were indeed righteous women by example.
Each group of sisters came forward and presented their topics in the form of skits. Every one of them had put in a lot of effort to convey the message in a spiritual way and with a little bit of humor.
We all laughed and enjoyed ourselves, but in the end of each presentation, we were touched by the Spirit for the messages they carried about how to be happy always, how to be articulate and different, how to be self-reliant, and how to prepare for the temple.
It was amazing to see how the sisters joined hands together, both young and old, in acting it out. Lastly it was concluded by the testimonies of a few sisters who strengthened ours for their commitment to the gospel.
We all were given a framed picture of lights to remind us to turn on lights that we have and give light to others and also to help others to turn on theirs as well. Along with it was a reminder of the four things President Nelson challenged the sisters to do during the last general conference.
On the whole, the activity was great! The stake Relief Society presidency had planned very hard to put all this together for us to learn and enjoy at the same time. They even had to work till midnight to pack those gifts for the sisters. We could see and feel the love and dedication they had for all of us and they turned on their lights. The sisters from the KGF Branch were different and articulate by setting an example of traveling so far to show how much they loved the Lord.

Prophets help my testimony to grow. I love to read about the prophets and learn about their lives and how they were committed to following Jesus Christ. One story I love is about Joseph F. Smith (1838–1918). He was returning to Salt Lake City with several missionaries when a mob approached them. They shot their guns and cursed and yelled. The leader jumped off his horse and shouted, “We will kill anyone who is a Mormon!” All the other missionaries ran into the woods, but Joseph F. Smith stood strong. The man held a gun and asked, “Are you a Mormon?” Joseph F. Smith stood up even straighter and said, “Yes, siree; dyed in the wool; true blue, through and through!” The man was surprised. Putting the gun away, he shook Joseph’s hand, and said, “Well, you are the pleasantest man I ever met! I’m glad to see a man that stands up for his convictions.” Then he rode off and didn’t bother them again.1

If you think about it, it’s a bit strange for someone to put goodies in your old sock. But like many Christmas traditions, the tradition of Christmas stockings comes from an old legend. A long time ago (so the story goes), a poor man had three daughters and couldn’t afford to give them a dowry (money or goods given to the groom’s family by the bride’s family). In those days, it was very hard for a woman to get married without a dowry. A Christian bishop named Nicholas heard about the problem and wanted to help, but the man refused to accept money. One night, Nicholas threw three balls made of pure gold in through the open window of the man’s house. Each one landed in a stocking hung by the fire to dry. The next morning, each daughter found a gold ball in her stocking. With this bounty, they were all able to get married. Stockings can remind us of the importance of service. The greatest example of service is Jesus Christ. He always “went about doing good” (Acts 10:38). Take some time to think about the Savior’s selfless acts of service. How can you give Christlike service and show kindness to others?

“Do you think we’ll ever finish?” I asked Lacey as we stared at my messy bedroom. “Mom says it looks like a tornado hit it.”
“My room’s been worse,” Lacey replied with a giggle.
I was glad Lacey was willing to help me. Not every friend would help clean up a room that looked like a disaster zone. But luckily Lacey thought that cleaning bedrooms was fun—as long as it wasn’t her own.
I grabbed a CD and stuck it in my pink CD player. Usually I played popular music while I did my chores, but this time I put in a CD of Primary music that my Primary teacher had given me.
In an instant, my bedroom was filled with a chorus of children singing songs like “I Am a Child of God,” “I Lived in Heaven,” and “The Church of Jesus Christ.”
As we placed stuffed animals in the closet, hung up my clothes, and listened to the music, a sweet, spiritual feeling filled the room. Lacey wasn’t a member of the Church, but I could tell that she felt it, too. I’d never felt the Holy Ghost this strongly before.
“What does your church believe in?” she asked.
It would have been impossible to tell her everything that I’d ever learned at home and in Primary, so I just explained that we believed in Jesus Christ, the Bible, and the Book of Mormon. Then I recited the first and second articles of faith that I’d memorized for my Faith in God Award.
“I go to church, too,” Lacey said. “See?” She showed me her necklace, which had a gold cross on it.
I lifted the necklace up from my shirt. “We both have gold necklaces,” I said. “except mine says ‘CTR.’ That stands for ‘Choose the Right.’”
We smiled at each other. Suddenly I felt that we both needed to do something more important than just clean a room. We had to do something special.
“Come on,” I said. “Let’s finish up quick so we can do something really good!”
“Maybe we could start a do-gooders club or something,” said Lacey excitedly.
“I know!” I said. “Let’s make a bunch of sugar cookies and give them to our neighbors.”
We raced downstairs and told my mom about our idea. “Can we do it?” we asked.
“Sure,” she said.
Mom helped us find a recipe and get out all the ingredients. Then Lacey and I mixed, rolled, and baked until we had six heaping plates of cookies. We decorated them with squiggly lines of green frosting.
“They smell wonderful!” Mom said.
And they tasted good, too! Lacey and I snatched a couple of cookies, then delivered the rest to the neighbors who lived on our street. It was fun to see the surprised looks on their faces when we handed them their own big plate of warm cookies.
Lacey and I practically skipped all the way back to my house.
“Well, I’ve got to go,” she said. “It’s getting late.”
“OK, I’ll see you later!” I replied.
It had been a great afternoon. Maybe Lacey could visit my church one day and sing the songs with me in Primary. But in the meantime, I was glad to know that we could have fun together doing nice things for people and that we could both feel close to Heavenly Father.

Martín felt sad when his parents told him the family was moving to a different city in Colombia. He didn’t want to leave his friends, his home, and the place where he grew up. Instead of cool mountain air, Martín would now live close to the ocean with hot, humid air all year round. He would trade hot soups for cold drinks, and coats for shorts. Add to that a new school, a new ward, and a new Primary class! It all seemed pretty scary.
One day Mom and Dad asked Martín how he felt about the move.
“I don’t like it,” Martín said. “I don’t want everything to change.”
“I know moving can be hard,” Dad said. “Lots of things will change, but not everything. You’ll still have us!”
“That’s true,” Martín said.
“And we will bring our things with us,” Mom said.
Martín thought about that for a minute. He would still have his clothes, his shoes, and his favorite toys. Martín was glad he could take his toys. He packed them away extra carefully when they moved.
After a while, Martín started to get used to his new home and new city. The move wasn’t as hard or scary as he thought it would be.
One Sunday, when his family went to church, Martín noticed a lot of people he had never seen before. Primary was full of new kids. He wondered where they came from. He heard people he knew talk about donating food, clothes, and shoes. After church, Martín asked Mom about all the new people.
“They had to leave their country,” Mom said. “Many of them left everything behind except what they could carry.”
“So that’s why everyone wants to help them?” Martín asked.
“That’s right. Jesus taught us that we should help people who are in need. We can follow His example and share what we have.”
Martín thought about that. He wanted to follow Jesus!
Then Mom said, “Many of the Primary kids had to leave their toys behind. Do you think you have some toys you could give?”
Martín would be happy to share his shoes or his clothes. But his toys?
“No! Those are my toys!” Martín said. He turned and ran to his room.
Martín looked around his room with tears in his eyes. He didn’t want to give away any of his toys. He’d brought them all the way from his old house!
He went to his toy box and looked inside. He saw his toy truck, his yo-yo, his trompo (spinning top), and his best bag of marbles.
Then Martín thought, What if I had to leave all of these behind? And my home and country too?
The more he thought about that, the more Martín knew what he wanted to do.
A few minutes later, he came up to Mom with his arms full of toys—not just any old toys—but the ones he always played with.
Mom looked surprised. “You don’t have to give away your favorite toys.”
Martín set the toys on the floor. “The other kids had favorite toys they had to leave behind,” he said. “I want them to have mine so they can be a little happier.”
Mom gave Martín a hug. “I’m so proud of you.”
Martín had a warm feeling inside. He knew giving to others is what Jesus would do, and that made him happy.