Gospel Story Finder

I served as a bishop during the period of the Korean War. We had received from Church headquarters a letter indicating that bishops should send a personal letter to each serviceman every month, along with a copy of the Church magazine at that time, the Improvement Era, and a subscription to the Church News. That took a little doing. In our large ward we had about eighteen servicemen. We did not have much money. The priesthood quorums, with effort, supplied funds for the subscriptions to the publications, and I took care of the letter writing. From my experience in the navy at the end of a previous war, I knew the importance of receiving word from home.
One day the sister who took the shorthand for those individually dictated letters said to me, “Bishop Monson, don’t you ever get discouraged?”
I said, “No, I don’t. Why?”
“Do you realize,” she explained, “that this is the seventeenth consecutive monthly letter you have sent to Lawrence Bryson, and you have never received a reply?”
I said, “Well, send number seventeen. It might do the job.” And it did. I received a reply from an APO number, San Francisco. Brother Bryson, far away in the Pacific, had written a short letter which began: “Dear Bishop, I ain’t much at writing letters [I could have told him that seventeen months sooner], but today has been a special day. I have been ordained a teacher in the Aaronic Priesthood. My group leader has stayed close to me, and I am grateful to him.” Then he said, “By the way, thanks for the Church News. Thanks for the magazine. But a special thanks for your letter which comes each month.”
Years later at a stake conference in the Cottonwood Stake, when Elder James E. Faust was stake president, I mentioned that experience in a stake priesthood meeting. A man came up after the meeting and said, “Do you remember me?”
I looked at him. It had probably been twenty-two years since I’d seen him. I said, “Lawrence Bryson!”
He said, “That’s me. Thanks for the letters. That’s why I’m here today.”
Where is Lawrence Bryson now? He and his wife are currently serving full-time missions. Their lives demonstrate full activity in the Church. They are searching for sheep that are lost. I think they will know where to find them. I know they will save them.
I still have that wonderful letter written to me from Lawrence Bryson and dated “Christmas Day, December 25, 1953.” It was one of the most treasured Christmas gifts ever received by me. Sure, you sometimes wonder after seventeen letters have been sent why no reply has come, but I remembered a line of truth: “The wisdom of God may appear as foolishness to men. But the greatest single lesson we can learn in mortality is that when God speaks and a man obeys, that man will always be right.” The leaders of the Church had spoken. We as bishops needed only to obey. The blessing was sure to follow.

Brother Dalebe Martin Goury of Nigeria shares the following personal experience:
“In April 1993, I was a new convert to the Church, living in a foreign country, working every hour possible while attending university. I was studying mechanical engineering. Having been taught the law of tithing, I started paying a full and honest tithe from the day I received the lesson. I had been a member of the Church for three weeks when we were asked to come to our courses with a programmable engineering calculator. With my little resources, I realized that I needed to save a certain amount each week for 12 weeks without paying my tithing to be able to afford the materials required. If I did not purchase them, I would struggle to be on the same level as other student.
“Usually, I would give my tithing envelope to the bishop or to any of his counsellors as soon as I arrived at the chapel, but that Sunday I kept the envelope till the end—as I was debating what to do. I was so tempted to return home with the tithing money and start saving. As my mind was racing with what to do at the end of the third hours, I receive this strong feeling that I had made a covenant. I felt overwhelmed by the feeling and went to the bishop’s office and handed in my tithing envelope. I never explained why I was late handing in my tithing this time. Then I went home.
“The following week, my resolve was strong this time and I handed in my tithing as soon as I arrived at the chapel. The following Sunday, I did the same thing. Even though things were a bit difficult at the university, I was happy and peaceful because I had paid a full and honest tithe every week.
“At the end of the second week, the first counsellor of the bishopric, who studied engineering, requested to see me. I do not know how he knew that I was in a desperate need of a programmable calculator. However, these were his words: ‘I heard you are doing a degree in mechanical engineering. I completed an engineering degree a few years ago and still have the calculator I had to purchase. I no longer have need of it. Would you like it?’
“When he brought the calculator out, I noticed that it was 10 times better than the one I would have purchased after 12 weeks of saving money. How did he know my needs? Only my Father in Heaven knew. This confirmed for me the promises of the Lord in Malachi 3:10.”
Brother Goury passed the test of whether he loved and trusted our Father in Heaven over all other things. He did this by living the law of the tithe when it seemed that doing so would frustrate his goals. After some patience and persistence in obeying the commandment, he received help sent by our loving Heavenly Father. Those who follow Brother Goury’s example will learn by their own experience that “if it so be that the children of men keep the commandments of God he doth nourish them, and strengthen them, and provide means whereby they can accomplish the thing which he has commanded them” (1 Nephi 17:3).

It is important for each deacon to be guided to a spiritual awareness of the sacredness of his ordained calling. In one ward, the lesson was effectively taught pertaining to the collection of fast offerings.

On fast day, the ward members were visited by deacons and teachers so that each family could make a contribution. The deacons were a bit disgruntled, having to arise earlier than usual to fulfill this assignment.
The inspiration came for the bishopric to take a busload of the deacons and teachers to Welfare Square in Salt Lake City. Here they saw needy children receiving new shoes and other items of clothing. Here they witnessed empty baskets being filled with groceries. There was no money exchanged. One brief comment was made: “Young men, this is what the money you collect on fast day provides—even food, clothing, and shelter for those who are in need.” The Aaronic Priesthood young men smiled more, stepped higher, and served more willingly in filling their assignments.

When I was seven, a girl moved into my neighborhood, and we became friends. We both liked the same things, and we were a good influence on each other. We made good choices because our parents had taught us to choose wisely.
Once we got into sixth grade though, we made wrong choices in order to fit in with our friends who had lower standards. The next year, I decided that I needed to change friends so I could start making right choices again by living higher standards. The only problem was that my friend and I were still friends, and I didn’t want to stop hanging out with her.
Doing what I needed to do was hard. I had been told all my life to pick good friends and keep my standards high. But I did not have a testimony of why this was important, so I had to trust that it was correct. Over the summer and during eighth grade, we stopped hanging out as much and chose separate directions.
I saw the blessings of this decision later that year. My former friends decided to bring alcohol to school. They convinced some other girls to drink it, and they all got in trouble. I realized that one of those girls could have been me. If I had been with them, I don’t know if I would have had the strength to stand up for my beliefs.
When I think of the consequences I would have had to face, I feel overwhelmed. I could have struggled with addiction, been in trouble with the law, lost my parents’ trust, but most of all, I could have betrayed the trust Heavenly Father has in me.
I know that what the prophet says about living high standards is for our protection. Even though we may see it as inconvenient, it helps us spiritually, physically, mentally, and in other ways we don’t even realize.

Later on I became a student in college, and I found that some of the things I believed in and felt I knew to be true were regarded as ridiculous and immature by some of my professors. They believed in things totally foreign to the beliefs I had been taught from my earliest childhood. They ridiculed my belief in God as simply superstitious nonsense. They made fun of the Book of Mormon. They laughed at the concept of Joseph Smith being a prophet. They refused to believe the Bible was anything more than literature. I felt crushed.
To me these were learned men. They held doctor’s degrees from great universities. They were well-read. They seemed to have answers and proofs for everything they taught. I was merely a student, and they were professors with years of schooling, research knowledge, and experience. To say that I was impressed is perhaps an understatement. My faith and my beliefs were shaken, and I teetered on the edge of an abyss of indecision. What should I accept as truth? Should I accept the teachings of these learned men, or should I retain my belief in what I had been taught by my parents, my Sunday School, Primary, religion class, and priesthood teachers and had learned through my own experiences?
Those teachers who would have led me to reject God and my religious ideals were not always happy men. Some were disillusioned and some were bitter. Fortunately I made my decision to stand for what I felt was truth. To one professor who was particularly sarcastic toward my religious concepts I simply stated, “Doctor, I refuse to believe you! I will answer your examination questions the way you want me to, but I want you to know that unlearned as I am, one thing I do know is that God lives. I believe in him with all my heart. I will listen to your teachings, but I refuse to change my beliefs or my faith.” He just looked at me and shook his head. But I had been a missionary and could not deny those things I felt deep within my heart to be true. I could not prove them to him, but I believed them and they gave me both hope and comfort.

He also served several missionary assignments, accompanying American missionaries to other areas for proselyting. On one of these journeys, Opapo, his long-time friend Elisala, and one of two American missionaries went to the island of Manu‘a. Upon arriving they found that the local king, Tuimanu‘a, had forbidden anyone from receiving or assisting the Latter-day Saints in any way—the punishment for disobedience was immediate stoning. However, the missionaries were determined to succeed and stayed for two months, eating fallen coconuts from the beaches and sleeping each night in holes. They covered their heads with leaves to protect themselves from the mosquitoes, each one taking a turn nightly to help the others arrange their leaves and then unassisted himself, suffering from bites the rest of the night.
After several weeks of this grueling ordeal, Opapo was awakened by the smell of some freshly baked food in a nearby basket. The missionaries did not know whether through a human or a divine source; but after weeks of coconuts, they were profoundly grateful. Near the end of their stay the incident was repeated when an elderly woman brought them some food, saying that if she had to die for her kindness, she would, but she did not fear Tuimanu‘a.
A few weeks later, after exhausting every possible avenue, the missionaries prepared to depart. Ceremonially, Opapo and Elisala spoke directly to Tuimanu‘a and his people, warning them that they would feel the wrath and power of God if they did not repent. As his last act before boarding the longboat, Opapo paused at the edge of the village and dusted off his feet as a witness against the island. A couple of weeks later a devastating hurricane struck the island, killing many, destroying all of the crops above ground, and leveling every house except one—the fale (hut) in which lived the elderly lady who had helped the missionaries.
It is true that miracles strengthen the faith of believers but do not necessarily give faith to the unbelieving. It was not until 1974 that a branch was actually organized in Manu’a. On the other hand, the Saints to whom Opapo returned heard of the incident and increased in faithfulness.

Here’s a little math equation for you: What’s 270 x 2? If you answered 540, you’d be right. But if you answered 5,000 you’d be even more right—just maybe not on your next math test.
This rather incredible math refers to what happened after strangers around the globe decided to show a bit of kindness. Thanks to the Giving Machines in the Light the World campaign, 90 women from a small village received 270 baby chicks. In only 2 years (there’s that 270 x 2 math!) these women turned those chicks into 5,000 chickens—and counting. In fact, those same women are now supplying baby chicks through the same Giving Machine program.

I remember one Christmas Eve, not too many years back, when I went to sit in the home of a little widow in our ward and spent thirty or forty minutes with her. She discussed with me the things that were in her heart that lonely Christmas Eve, and I received a little jar of jelly from her as I prepared to depart. I found out a few months later that she was in a rest home, so I dropped by occasionally and visited her there. Then again, just a few short months after that, I was privileged to speak at her funeral. I suppose that acts such as this are performed outside the Church as well; but I feel that the greater act was hers, because she gave me an opportunity and blessings that I would not have had otherwise.

Jonathon grumbled as he climbed into the car next to his brother, Mike. He wanted to stay home and play the new game he had been given for his birthday last week. But his mother had insisted that they all go to the meetinghouse and help with the ward’s cleanup day.
“Why do we have to go?” Jonathon had asked his mother as he helped her load their vacuum into the car.
“It will be fun,” she said, smiling. “Besides, all of us use the meetinghouse. It’s only right that we help clean it from time to time.”
Jonathon stared out the window and watched the houses and trees pass by as they drove to the church. As his mother pulled the car into the church’s parking lot, Jonathon was surprised to see Brother Lawson park his car next to theirs.
“What is Brother Lawson doing here?” Jonathon wondered.
Brother Lawson had been very sick lately with a type of cancer called leukemia. He had been in the hospital for a long time. Jonathon remembered his parents encouraging Mike and him to pray for Brother Lawson during their personal and family prayers. Brother Lawson hadn’t been home from the hospital for very long.
Jonathon had always liked Brother Lawson. He was older than Jonathon’s grandfathers, but he went out of his way to talk to Jonathon and ask him about school and his sports team. One time he even came to one of Jonathon’s games.
As Jonathon climbed out of the car, Brother Lawson waved and said, “Hi, Jonathon.” Brother Lawson walked around to the back of his car and took a vacuum out of the trunk. Walking slowly, he pushed the vacuum into the church.
“Jonathon,” his mother called, “can you give me a hand with this?” She was struggling to pull their vacuum from the back of the car.
“Sure, Mom,” Jonathon said. He helped her pull the vacuum out and quickly pushed it across the parking lot.
All that evening Jonathon and Mike worked beside Brother Lawson. Several times Jonathon became tired and stopped to rest, but he noticed that Brother Lawson continued to work. And he was smiling! “It’s nice to be able to help, isn’t it,” Brother Lawson said.
Jonathon felt something change inside him. “If Brother Lawson can be happy while he’s helping, so can I,” he thought. He started working even harder.
“Thank you for coming with me,” his mother said later as they were heading home.
“You’re welcome,” Jonathon said. “I’m sorry I complained about coming. I didn’t know you could learn so much from vacuuming.”

I’ve been home from my mission for several years now, and looking back, it was a struggle for a good year. My family moved out of state, my long-term relationship ended, and all my friends seemed to be married and starting their eternal families—all of which contributed to a difficult time of transition for me. When I expressed that I wanted to make chicken and waffles (a Southern classic where I served), that I still wanted to study my scriptures early in the morning, that I wanted to share a pass-along card with the gas station employee, people told me I was awkward. “All returned missionaries are awkward at first,” they’d say. “But don’t worry. In a few months, you’ll be normal again.”
This was when I realized the great divide of normalcy between missionary life and regular life. For me, it was hard to hear that my life, my desires—the way I’d been changed by Jesus Christ and His Atonement and dedicated my heart to God over the last 18 months of my life—were considered awkward, that they weren’t “normal.”
I’ve witnessed this dangerous mindset in many returned missionaries. In a desperate effort to feel accepted upon returning home, missionaries might quickly abandon the very habits that would’ve helped their transition. Thankfully, several wonderful, wise people gave me the one piece of advice that helped me during this time of transition more than anything else: with the help of Jesus Christ and His Atonement, you have to find your new normal.

I’ve been feeling so depressed lately I can’t stand myself. I feel sloppy and grubby and not fit to be seen. For example, this evening was Mom’s Primary preparation meeting, and they had refreshments. Naturally I went upstairs to see if I could snitch some. Well, up in the kitchen there were punch and cake and Shane Dean and Mindy Lawrence, dressed in their good clothes with their great figures, talking about their fabulous summer of water skiing and dates. I felt like a big fat frump. They said “hi” and made a few comments of general interest, but they were off on something I wasn’t involved in, so I guzzled my punch and gobbled my cake, and as soon as they left I shambled downstairs again, feeling terrible. I’m not jealous of them or anything—I know how to dress to flatter my figure and I can sew better than either of them. It’s their positions in the world I envy.

“Most of you knew Brian before he left on his mission,” she was saying. “You remember that he wanted to be an individual. He would rather take off with his dog in the hills than go to church.”
“Sometimes he would disappear for days—take off in the hills with his dog,” she continued. “We would stay at home and simply pray that God would protect him, wherever he was.”
“Brian has always wanted to worship in his own way,” said his mother.
Her boy had changed. He had gone on a mission. It had been a miracle.
“I wasn’t going to be like everybody else and go on a mission,” he said. “I was different, and I knew I was all right without the Church. I thought I was happy not going to meetings, but hiking off into the mountains for days. Sometimes my parents didn’t know where I was. I know I gave them a lot of concern.”
“But the time came when my friends were going on missions, and I had to make a decision,” the missionary continued. “It was one of the most difficult times of my life. I had never even read the Book of Mormon.
“And one of my friends who was going on a mission told me: ‘Sure, you’re supposed to go on a mission, but nobody will force you to go. Just give it a chance. Read the Book of Mormon. If you don’t want to go after that, at least you gave it a chance.’
“Well, you all know how that turned out.”
“But I want to tell you how it happened,” the missionary said. “I said okay, I’d take a couple of weeks in the desert with my dog and read the Book of Mormon. My friend drove me and my dog out into the desert 100 kilometers from any road. He left us out there with nothing but a little food and our survival equipment. I told him to pick us up in the same spot in about two weeks.”
“I finished the book in two days, and I knew it was true. I knew I wanted to go on a mission. I knew I wanted to tell the world that God still cares and that he provided this book for our guidance. I was ready now. But there I was, 100 kilometers from civilization, and my friend wasn’t going to pick me up for twelve more days.
“Well, I sat down on a rock and thought about what I should do. There really wasn’t any purpose for me to stay out there anymore. So I decided I’d try to walk out. I knew the direction I should go. I knew how far I was from the road. And, although when I look back on it I realize what a crazy decision it was, I thought I could reach the road in a couple of days if I left most of my food supplies and camp gear to retrieve later with a truck. So in the morning, I started out.
“I left camp in my jacket with only a couple of apples in my pocket, my knife, and some matches. I set out at a fast pace, probably covering almost thirty kilometers by mid-afternoon. But then it began to rain.
“It was not a usual rain. It flooded. The water fell in thick black sheets around me so that I could not even see landmarks to know where I was going. My dog and I were drenched within moments, and as the afternoon dragged on, we began to shake with the cold. I huddled inside my coat, overwhelmed with a dreadful feeling. What was I going to do?
“I’d heard enough about hypothermia—where the body gets too cold—to know that I needed to get out of the rain. It was February, and with evening so close, the rain would soon turn to ice. I needed to get dry, but I was too far away from my camp gear to turn back. Luckily, at that moment, I found some shelter in the crevice of some rocks. I crawled inside, and there was just enough space for me. My dog, wet and shaking with cold, stood outside wagging her tail. I wanted to wait for the storm to pass and stayed there for what seemed like hours. It became evident that we could not stay there in that rain. I needed to move and keep my blood circulating, yet out in the cold desert the rain was still pouring down. What could I do?
“I think it was the first time in my life that I really talked with God. I conversed with him like I never had before. I told him my dog and I were in great danger if we couldn’t dry off before the water turned to ice, and if the storm should last several days, we could not find food or build a fire.
“I told Heavenly Father that I now knew the Book of Mormon was true, and that I would serve a mission to tell others to read it so they would have the same confirmation.
“For a moment I stopped pleading with him and listened. I believe I thought he would stop the rain, but the rain continued to pour down in sheets.
“Never had I prayed like I did in those moments. Suddenly, the thought came into my mind that the Lord would do his part if I would just get out there and go. Maybe he would give me the strength to withstand the cold, but I just had to get out and get moving.
“In the moment that I left those rocks, I had a feeling of peace. My dog and I walked for a hundred meters or so in the drenching rain. I walked away from the rocks and into flat, open ground. My shoes, my clothes, my matches—everything was soaking wet, and the rain was still falling down on me in gray sheets.
“But as I continued, praying in my heart for strength, praying for purpose, a sudden soft light opened up above me. I looked around. There was no rain!
“I paused and looked at the blue hills. The rain had stopped only in a large area where I walked. On the edge of the great circle around me the dark rain was still falling, like a gray veil. I couldn’t believe it. The light came down softly around me. I felt warmer, drier, and was able to walk out of the desert.”

For example, only a few weeks ago John Muaina shared a story that affirms the worth and influence of the PCC in combination with BYUH. John is senior vice president over Human Resources. In that capacity he coordinates the Asian Executive Management Training Program for interns from the People's Republic of China. Not long ago he was driving two interns who had completed their programs to the airport to return home. This is the way he related the incident:

I asked my wife to drive. I always do that, so I can turn around and talk to them. I asked both Lu Lu and Cindy, "Tell me the greatest thing that you learned that you'll take back to your organization." They both kind of looked at each other, and Lu Lu said, "Let me say some things, and Cindy can say others if I don't cover it. I can say truthfully that we have learned many, many principles about international business, about computers, about hospitality, hotels, and we've learned so much valuable information." Then she paused, and said, "But the greatest thing . . . that we've learned here is the love of the people here at BYU-Hawai'i and the Polynesian Cultural Center. They are so caring and giving and the thing that we will take back with us and treasure, more than just the knowledge, is how one should love their family. Since being here I really started to miss my family because I saw how important it was to the members here and I missed my child, my husband. In fact, three months after I arrived here I called my husband and I was so excited to talk to him on the telephone. I was telling him about the school and he was asking me, 'What classes?' and things of that sort. During the conversation I just felt that I wanted to tell him, 'Honey, I love you.' But he didn't acknowledge what I said, he just kept talking and asked me, 'Well, what do you do in these classes, and do you enjoy your roommate and the school?' And I said, I do. The second time I said, 'Honey, I love you.' He paused, and continued on as if he didn't even hear what I said to him. Then he started asking more questions. And the third time I said, 'Honey, I love you.' And he paused and he said, 'What are they teaching you at that school?' I said, in amazement, 'What do you mean, what are they teaching me?' He said, 'You said that three times now. What are you learning over there?' She said, 'I have learned so many valuable things over here, but I've learned how much you mean to me and how much my family means to me and I can't wait to come home and see you.' Then he paused and said, 'If that's what you're learning over there, Lu Lu, I wish I was in school over there at your BYU.' She said, 'You can't believe what I've learned.' As we hung up I said one more time, 'Honey, I love you.' And my husband said, 'I love you.' That is the first time I ever heard my husband say that to me."
Brother Muaina continued: As she was sharing this with me, Lu Lu was crying, Cindy was crying, my wife was crying, and I was crying. All four of us in the car. Cindy mentioned the same type of thing happened with her. She said, "I can't wait to get home, hug my husband, hug my parents, tell my parents how much I love them. That's what we've learned here. "

Let me next mention an Idaho family, Jeff and Joy Underwood, the parents of six children. You may recall, as vividly as I do, last July when it was reported on the television that their daughter Jeralee, age eleven, had gone out to collect for her paper route. Jeralee never returned, “not that day, nor the next day, nor the next, nor ever” to her family in Idaho (see James E. Faust, “Five Loaves and Two Fishes,” Ensign, May 1994, p. 6). After two thousand joined in the search, eventually Jeralee was found, abducted and brutally murdered. How does a family cope with this kind of tragedy? These are faithful members of the Church. Is that what you call joy, a state of happiness? The parents thanked the searchers and offered forgiveness.

I saw this trust in the Underwood family. Sister Underwood said,

I have learned a lot about love this week, and I also know there is a lot of hate. I have looked at the love and want to feel that love, and not the hate. We can forgive. [Faust, Five Loaves, p. 7]

Now, do you have this much trust in the Lord? Could you say that if you had just lost a child to a violent murder, and could you make that statement in the same week?

Years ago, Elder James O. Mason of the Seventy shared this story with me: “The birth of our sixth child was an unforgettable experience. As I gazed on this beautiful, new daughter in the nursery just moments after her birth, I distinctly heard a voice declare, ‘There will yet be another, and it will be a boy.’ Unwisely, I rushed back to the bedside of my absolutely exhausted wife and told her the good news. It was very bad timing on my part.” Year after year the Masons anticipated the arrival of their seventh child. Three, four, five, six, seven years passed. Finally, after eight years, their seventh child was born—a little boy.

I hadn’t been reading the scriptures until my Young Women president suggested that I work on Personal Progress. It asked me to read the scriptures every day for some weeks. After doing this, I never stopped reading them. My best advice is that you ought to work on your Personal Progress or Duty to God. Challenge yourself to read the scriptures more and more, and you will see a change within yourself. I tell you this without a doubt—you will see that you have a stronger testimony.
Paola S., age 16, Cortés, Honduras

Advent calendars are also an important part of the Christmas celebration at the Edwards’ house. Each family member makes one, usually on a family night late in November. Friends are often invited over to help.
“It’s an old tradition in our family,” explained Jeraldine Edwards, mother of the 12 children. “When my husband was a graduate student at Harvard and we were poor, we saw the advent calendars in the store. We had three little children then and couldn’t afford to buy a calendar. So we got construction paper, cut out the windows for the calendar, and let the children cut out the little pictures to paste behind them. As the children grew older, they wanted to make their own, and so it grew to be a tradition.”

Lisa stood in the doorway of Grandpa’s bedroom. She wanted to talk to him, but he was sound asleep. There was so much to say and so little time. Grandpa couldn’t even get out of bed now.
“I’ll be thankful if I get to see another crocus,” he had said. Those words brought back vividly all the hurt and pain she had felt when Keekee, her pet hamster, died.
Now it is Grandpa’s turn to go, Lisa thought sadly. All the pain of parting came back again. Once more she looked over the garden. Every year she and Grandpa had planted bulbs along both sides of the walkway but now Grandpa was too ill. She remembered how one by one she had handed Grandpa the crocus bulbs and watched him place them into freshly dug holes. Then he covered them gently, almost with a prayer.
Lisa went back to Grandpa’s room. He seemed to still be asleep but then he opened his eyes. “Is that you, Lisa?” he asked.
“Yes, Grandpa, is there anything I can do for you? Anything you want?”
“Just sit and talk to me,” he said, taking her hand.
“The garden misses you, Grandpa. We don’t want you to go.”
“It will only be for a little while. In Heavenly Father’s time it will only be like a winter away. Plants sleep during the winter and wake up in the spring. So it is with people. We are parted for a while and come together again in a world where there is no more separation.”
Grandpa’s hand became limp and he fell asleep.
Lisa went out into the garden again.
“Grandpa loves you,” she spoke to the lilac tree and the rosebushes as though they could understand. “If you could give him a flower, it would make him so happy.” But only the silence and the cold wind answered her. Every day after that, Lisa carefully examined each plant, but there wasn’t even a sign of a swollen node.
Mother had asked Lisa to help in preparing the house for company who would want to visit with Grandpa. “Friends and relatives will come to see Grandpa often,” she said, “and you must keep the porch and steps clean.”
Many people did come to see Grandpa, and each day he seemed to sleep a little longer. Sometimes he didn’t know Lisa was there beside him. One day as she was sweeping the porch, the pain of losing Grandpa seemed to grow so big within Lisa that she thought it would burst. She began to cry. The broom slipped from her hand and fell beside the steps. As she stooped to pick it up, something caught her eye. It was half-hidden under the porch and behind the steps. She got on her knees and could hardly believe what she saw. In a sheltered place, well-protected from the wind and cold, was a purple crocus poking up from the dark earth. Although it was still winter, a flower had been born.
Lisa rushed to Grandpa’s bedroom where he lay sleeping. “Please wake up, Grandpa, and see what I found!” she cried. But Grandpa didn’t stir. Lisa waited and waited. She was about to leave the room when Grandpa opened his eyes.
“Look, Grandpa. Look what I have for you!” Lisa said softly.
“A crocus,” he whispered. “How wonderful!” He took the flower and held it to his face. “Where did you find it, Lisa? We took up all the bulbs last fall.”
“I guess we missed this one. It was in the corner by the steps.”
Grandpa smiled. “Lisa, did I ever tell you the story about the tree that began to sprout leaves in the winter? At the time, people called it a miracle. It brought new hope to many who needed it. Later it was discovered that a steam pipe near the tree had a leak and the warmth made the tree think it was spring—time to wake up and time to show its leaves. People talked about it for months afterward. Many felt it was a message from God, telling them that they should never despair.”
Lisa sat quietly thinking about the miracle tree. She looked down at Grandpa, who had fallen asleep again, the crocus still in his hand. Lisa stood beside the bed for a long time. Slowly some of the pain she felt began to ease. Grandpa’s going away didn’t hurt quite as much now. She knew that one day they would be together again.
“I love you, Grandpa,” she whispered, recalling his words, All else can fade away but love is forever.

But just because you should will always mean that you can with the Lord’s help.
I know that this principle is true. Believe it or not, I was once young, trim and fit like you. Also like yourselves, my future was an open slate. As a young lawyer in Chicago, the opportunities were grand and expansive. When my wife converted to the gospel, however, it changed our lives. As we learned to make right choices, we also learned that just because we could do things didn’t mean we should. By following principles we learned in the gospel and by listening to the Spirit, I have seen the many great blessings and tender mercies we have received from the Lord. We ended up moving from the big town of Chicago with the big salaries and big opportunities to return home to be closer to our families. I was also led to leave the practice of law after a quarter of century to teach 9th graders math at Waianae High. And just a few months ago, I was blessed with the opportunity to work with CES and the Seminaries and Institutes of Religion department. In the eyes of the world, our life may not glamorous, I am not be powerful, we are not wealthy, but our joy could not be fuller in our family, friends and what we have been blessed with.

When obstacles stand in her way Tania works to overcome them. “This past year was a challenge for me to go to seminary,” she says. “My ward did not have seminary classes because there were not enough students. I was the only one.” She was finally able to find a stake home study seminary class. She says participating this year was a lot harder than her first year, but it was definitely worth the effort.