Gospel Story Finder

Mike was nervous. The bow tie made his collar tight, and he couldn’t get his finger to where it itched. His Primary teacher, Brother Thompson, looked at the squirmy nine-year-old and shook his head. He had often thought that Mike was more interested in soccer than the scriptures. Today Brother Thompson was right.

It wasn’t that Mike didn’t like the scriptures. It was just that the big game was a week away, and Mike was having trouble thinking about anything else.

“Mike,” said Brother Thompson, “can you tell me what Jesus did when He learned that His friend Lazarus had died?”

Mike hadn’t been listening. He had been staring out the window and thinking about the Pocatello soccer fields, where the league championship would be decided next Saturday.

Mike played in the league for nine- and ten-year-olds. His team had won all their games. But Mike’s coach had said that they had been lucky to win some of them, and half of them had been won by only one goal. Next Saturday would be the championship game. Mike’s team, the Eagles, would play the Lasers. The Lasers were also undefeated in their league, but they had won every game by at least four goals.

Mike thought about what his coach had told him the day before.

“Mike?” Coach Griego had asked, “Do you want to win next week?”

“You bet!”

“Do you think we will win?”

“I think the Lasers are gonna cream us,” Mike had answered truthfully.

“Well, I know one thing,” Coach Griego had said. “In order for us to have a chance at winning, you’ll have to play a good game. You’re our best player, Mike. You’re really going to have to take charge out there.”

Mike thought about what Coach Griego had said. He felt glad that his coach thought that he was the best player on the team. But it made him feel bad, too, because if the Eagles lost, it would probably be his fault.

Brother Thompson continued his lesson … “When Jesus learned that His friend Lazarus had died, He went to where His friend was buried. His disciples wondered why Jesus would leave His important teaching to go to someone who was already dead. But Jesus did what He knew was right. Jesus loved his friend, and one of the lessons he wanted to teach was that we should always do the kindest thing.”

Mike was listening to his teacher now. So was the boy sitting next to him, Clint Price. Clint was on Mike’s soccer team, but Clint was as thin and wispy as Mike was strong and solid. They played a lot of soccer together at home during the week, but at team practice, Mike acted like he hardly knew Clint. All the kids thought that Clint was the worst player on the team, and Mike liked to be around the best players. Clint pretended that it didn’t bother him.

“When Jesus went to see Lazarus,” Brother Thompson continued, “He wept for His friend. Then He prayed to Heavenly Father and raised His friend from the dead. Surely He would have liked to have healed His friend so that he didn’t have to die, but if He had, He would not have shown that He had power over death. He knew that it was important to wait till Lazarus had died before He helped him. So remember how important it is to always do the right thing.”

During the week Mike sometimes pictured his team beating the Lasers by two or three goals. Then he’d think about what it would be like if the Lasers won by their usual four points.

“OK,” said the coach just before the game started. “They’re big, all right, but that means that they’re slow. We can beat them with speed and passing. Now, get out there and win!”

The Lasers soon had the ball sailing toward the goal. The Eagle goalie almost muffed the ball, but he managed to drop-kick it back toward the center of the field.

Mike knew at once that it would be a rough game. The Lasers knew how to use their size. Whenever they powered the ball downfield, several Eagles were knocked down in the process.

The Lasers scored first with a hard shot from just in front of the goal. This time the ball went into the net so fast that the Eagle goalie didn’t have time to react. The Lasers scored again just before halftime on a high kick that came down in front of the goal. A tall Laser player jumped up and butted the ball into the goal with his head. The Eagles walked off the field dejectedly at halftime. The score was Lasers 2, Eagles 0.

No one was more unhappy than Mike. He hadn’t played for most of the first half after he’d collided with a Laser player and hurt his leg. On the sideline he’d done the stretching exercises his coach had showed him. “Coach,” Mike said just before the second half, “those exercises really helped. I’m ready to go back in and play.”

“Good,” said the coach. “We need you.”

For the first five minutes of the second half, the Eagles played evenly with the Lasers. Then the Eagles got the break that they’d been waiting for. A Laser was called for a tripping foul in front of the Laser goal. The Eagles got a penalty kick, and they scored on a high shot that went just inside the net. The score was Lasers 2, Eagles 1.

Less than a minute later the Eagles scored again when the Laser goalie slipped while diving for the ball. Tie game.

The Lasers were angry now. Determined to win the game no matter what, they were called for several roughness penalties. But the Eagles just couldn’t capitalize on them. As the clock began to run out, the score was still 2–2.

Then, when a Laser missed an inbounds pass, the Eagles got the ball and forwarded it to Mike. He turned and looked at the goal, about thirty yards away. Gritting his teeth, he started upfield. Mike was not as large as most of the Lasers, but he was a lot quicker. He outran one defender, faked past another, and suddenly was in the clear, streaking toward the goal with only the goalie to stop him. Mike got ready to take his shot—then he saw something that changed everything.

Normally, Coach Griego didn’t play Clint if the game was close, but because of injuries, the coach had no choice. Clint didn’t like the Lasers’ rough style of play, but he had run near the sideline and slightly behind Mike, just in case …

Near the goal the Laser goalie charged at Mike and dived as Mike’s foot hit the ball. But the ball didn’t go toward the net. The words of Brother Thompson had flashed through Mike’s mind:

“Do the right thing.” Mike sent the ball to Clint, who dribbled just beyond Mike, then drew his leg back to make the kick, the biggest kick of the season.

The ball sailed up and over the top of the goal, missing the net completely. The referee blew his whistle, and the game was over, ending in a 2–2 tie. The Lasers and the Eagles were cochampions.

The Eagles kicked up clods of dirt as they left the field. Clint and Mike were still standing by the goal when the coach walked over. “Why didn’t you score?” he almost shouted at Mike. “The goalie was out of position, and we could have won the game.”

Mike was thinking about what Brother Thompson had said about helping a friend and about doing what’s right. “Clint was open,” Mike explained. “You told us that we’d win with passing, so I passed the ball to Clint.”

The coach shook his head and left the field. A moment later Mike felt a tap on his shoulder. It was Clint’s parents. “Mike,” said Clint’s mother, “I’d just like you to know how glad we are that you passed the ball to Clint. That was the first time that he had a chance to score a goal all year. And it almost went in; it really did. Thank you.”

Clint’s parents walked off the field with their son, their arms around his shoulder. On the sideline Mike’s family waited. His father was smiling. “Mike,” he said, “that was quite a thing you did out there. I’m proud of you, Son.”

“Clint was open,” Mike said simply as they all walked to the car. “It was the right thing to do.”

As part of their ministering, Elder Tune, President Kendall and the missionaries brought a much-needed laptop and monitor to donate to Chevalier Catholic High School on Abemama, where over 500 students from other small islands board.
“It was a humbling experience to see their computer lab. We walked into the building with the ‘computer lab’ sign over the door and there were no computers there. So, when we came with a laptop and a screen, the principal and the students were so excited! Now they have a computer in their lab,” Elder Tune said.

But again, can we pray when we hardly have the heart for it? Lorenzo Snow leaves us the glimpse that after he was, as he felt, stillborn into the Church, nothing really significant happened in and after his baptism and confirmation. He kept praying for life, for the witness of the Spirit. It didn’t come. Feeling that the heavens were as brass over him, he nevertheless went to an accustomed place for prayer. He had no sooner opened his lips than the Spirit descended upon him. He describes it as being like the rustling of silken robes. There descended upon him a Spirit that was more tangible in its effect upon every part of his body than the surrounding water in baptism. He was filled, having prayed when he didn’t feel like praying (see Biography and Family Records of Lorenzo Snow, comp. Eliza R. Snow, Salt Lake City: Deseret News, 1884, pp. 7–8).

I had never understood this scripture. Jesus had healed the blind man so that the works of God could be manifest. But what about all those who are not healed? What about my sister with disabilities, who had died when I was a child? What about Cameron, our home teacher’s son who had cerebral palsy and was in a wheelchair?
As I thought of Cameron, scenes flooded my mind.
We are sitting on our back porch with our home teachers. Cameron is in his wheelchair. He is bearing his testimony, slowly, painstakingly—fighting the obstinate, uncooperative muscles in his face.
“I know God loves me,” he says. “I love God.” It takes much effort, much time before he is finished. My husband, Van, leans forward.
“Cameron,” he says earnestly, “you are improving so much on your speaking. I can understand every word!”
Cameron beams with pride. I see my husband’s tender, compassionate face, and I wonder: Are not the works of God made manifest?
At twelve, Cameron is old enough to pass the sacrament. One of the brethren in our ward has designed and fitted his wheelchair with a special tray. The bread and water are placed on his tray by members of his Aaronic Priesthood quorum.
He wheels to the end of the pew, where a member lifts the tray to partake of the sacrament. Are not the works of God made manifest in that sacred act?
I see Cameron, my sister, and others I have known who have disabilities in mind or body. Others carry them; others are their arms, their legs, their minds. I see these same individuals with disabilities giving others gifts of love and hope.
I see the works of God made manifest for them and by them.

Some years ago, I was contracted by the Hawaii Judiciary. I was sent to work with the detention home administration who were contentiously at odds with each other.
After constructive months doing team-building, the Spirit whispered, “Morris, look around and see what needs to happen here.” “What?” “Look around and see what needs to happen.” I turned around and looked at the detainees – the kids there. “Oh My Goodness! The kids here are really scary/intimidating!”
The Spirit whispered, “You need to work with them.” “NO WAY! I’m an Organizational Psychologist.” “You are also Clinical. Do this.” I expressed my fears in a silent prayer to the Lord, “I don’t think I can deal with the ‘bad/profane’ language here, or, being called a ‘dumb haole,’ or, getting punched-out by local kids with conduct disorders.” The Spirit whispered, “The kids will highly respect you and you will be very successful and no harm will come to you.” After wrestling with the Spirit, I did it for three incredible years with the Department of Health as a senior clinical-psychologist within the Judiciary.
May I say that this ‘Spirit-directed-course-of-action’ was the most profound, learning experience of my professional career.
I learned how to help those mentally and emotionally troubled with painful issues, faulty/irrational/damaging thinking and addictive habits move toward positive and constructive natures with hope and healing. Most importantly, I learned to love them!
I can affirm if we are to be at places of most potential in our life, guided and protected, we must listen to and obey the Holy Ghost.

In my profession as a farmer and a rancher, I’ve had a front-row seat to observe how a mother’s natural affection manifests itself even in nature. Each spring we take a herd of cows and their new calves up along Idaho’s Snake River, where they graze in the foothills for a month or so. Then we round them up and bring them down a road that leads to the corral. From there they are loaded onto trucks that carry them to their summer pastures in Montana.
On one particularly hot spring day, I was helping with the roundup by riding at the back of the herd as it moved down the dusty road toward the corral. My job was to gather any calves that had wandered from the road. The pace was slow and provided me some time to think.
Because it was so hot, the little calves kept running off into the trees to find shade. My thoughts turned to the youth of the Church who are sometimes distracted from the strait and narrow path. I also thought about those who have left the Church or who may feel that the Church has left their hearts while they were distracted. I thought to myself that a distraction doesn’t have to be evil to be effective—sometimes it can just be shade.
After several hours of gathering up stray calves and with sweat running down my face, I yelled to the calves in frustration, “Just follow your mothers! They know where they’re going! They’ve been down this road before!” Their mothers knew that even though the road was hot and dusty now, the end would be better than the beginning.
As soon as we got the herd into the corral, we noticed that three of the cows were pacing nervously at the gate. They could not find their calves and seemed to sense they were back on the road somewhere. One of the cowboys asked me what we should do. I said, “I bet I know where those calves are. Back a quarter of a mile [0.4 km] or so, there’s a stand of trees. I’m sure we’ll find them there.”
Sure enough, just as I had suspected, we found our lost calves taking a nap in the shade. Our approach startled them, and they resisted our efforts to round them up. They were frightened because we were not their mothers! The more we tried to push them toward the corral, the more stubborn they became. Finally I said to the cowboys, “I’m sorry. I know better than this. Let’s ride back and let their mothers out of the corral. The cows will come and get their calves, and the calves will follow their mothers.” I was right. The mother cows knew exactly where to go to find their calves, and they led them back to the corral, as I had expected.

Ever think about where you’ll be in 10 years? That’s exactly what a group of young women from Edmonton, Alberta, Canada, did in the late 1980s. The Mia Maids of the Whitemud Ward, Riverbend Stake, recorded their 10-year goals and predictions for themselves, placed these records in a time capsule, then promised to reunite after a decade.
Recently, these young women got together from different parts of North America to open the capsule. They were thrilled to realize that most of their dreams had come true.
Each of these young women continues to be active in the Church. All have pursued some sort of formal education, with most receiving degrees. One of the young women served a full-time mission. Those who are married have been married in the temple, and several are now raising children of their own.
Sharon Duncan Loose, who organized the reunion, says the girls’ support of one another during high school was a big factor in achieving these goals. “We knew we had a common belief and that we could turn to each other for help through temptations.”

Some of the sweetest memories of my childhood center in the occasional summer and fall days spent with my brothers at Uncle Zene’s farm in rural Virginia. There we hiked through woods with fragrant wildflowers. We marveled at flying squirrels, colorful birds, and even occasionally discovered a pheasant or a fox. Meandering streams invited us to catch sunfish, and a cool, pure spring satisfied our thirst. There were roasted hot dogs, potato salad, sweet pickles, and, of course, hot apple pie with homemade ice cream.
But the most treasured experience was the rope swing Uncle Zene had hung in a tall tree near a beautiful brook. Its long, gliding passes provided hours of pure joy. We would arch our backs and fling our legs and feet to see who could go the fastest and highest. It was sheer delight.
Once, to treat me to even more excitement, my brother Gerald put me on the wooden seat, then rotated the swing until the ropes were twisted in a double row of knots. With a mighty thrust he launched me into a spin of ever-increasing velocity. At first there was a feeling of exhilaration as I began to pick up speed. That short-lived pleasure was quickly replaced by increasing feelings of dizziness, nausea, and just plain terror. When the horrible experience was over, I couldn’t walk without falling. My head reeled, and I was certain that my stomach would never again be the same.

I then turned to a brother on my left and said, “My hero is Jim Newton and his wife, Helen.” Shortly after Jim and Helen’s son Zach received his mission call to Peru, he was taken in an automobile accident. When I heard of the accident, I rushed to the hospital, hoping to hear that Zach was alive and would recover. The parents, in a most dignified and peaceful manner, explained that Zach would now be serving his mission on the other side of the veil. As I witnessed the calm resolve of these two strong parents, I realized that through the pain and anguish there was a peace that could come only through a deep and abiding faith in a loving Father and an atoning Savior. My faith was strengthened, and through their inspiration my resolve to follow their example in meeting similar trials and tragedies was reaffirmed.

There was once a situation where some members in our ward were misjudging my friend and me. He and I were together a lot, serving and participating in activities, and rumors began that we were dating and doing something wrong.
The rumors also claimed that my family was being rude to my friend. Although we knew it wasn’t true, I was upset because he was always treated well in my home. I didn’t want to go to church and see or talk with the people who were spreading the false rumors.
However, I remembered that we go to church because of the gospel of Jesus Christ, not just because of the people there. People sometimes criticize others without knowing what’s really going on, and I knew this moment would pass and that I could forgive them. I shared these thoughts with my friend. By looking to Jesus Christ, we found peace.

I’d like to tell you of an experience of a faithful Latter-day Saint who is a good friend of mine. I’ll refer to him only as “my friend” for reasons you will understand.
Working as a special agent for the FBI, my friend investigated organized crime groups transporting illegal drugs into the United States.
On one occasion he and another agent approached an apartment where they believed a known drug dealer was distributing cocaine. My friend describes what happened:
“We knocked on the door of the drug dealer. The suspect opened the door and, upon seeing us, tried to block our view. But it was too late; we could see the cocaine on his table.
“A man and a woman who were at the table immediately began removing the cocaine. We had to prevent them from destroying the evidence, so I quickly pushed the drug suspect who was blocking the door to the side. As I pushed him, my eyes met his. Strangely, he did not appear angry or afraid. He was smiling at me.
“His eyes and disarming smile gave me the impression that he was harmless, so I quickly left him and started to move toward the table. The suspect was now behind me. At that instant, I had the distinct, powerful impression come into my mind: ‘Beware of the evil behind the smiling eyes.’
“I immediately turned back toward the suspect. His hand was in his large front pocket. Instinctively I grabbed his hand and pulled it from his pocket. Only then did I see, clutched in his hand, the semiautomatic pistol ready to fire. A flurry of activity followed, and I disarmed the man.”
Later, in another case, the drug dealer was convicted of murder and boasted that he would have also killed my friend had he not turned around at that very moment.

Long before I joined the Church, I was a critic of it. I gathered false information about the Church and criticized my friends who were members.
Despite my ignorance, I was soon converted to Christ through missionary lessons, which transformed me to the point where I desperately wanted to serve a full-time mission.
To strengthen my testimony, I participated in missionary lessons almost all the time, and every moment I spent at a lesson with the missionaries made me more eager to proclaim the restored gospel.
For four good years, the Lord’s invitation in Doctrine and Covenant 88:81 lingered on my mind. Meanwhile, I was learning an electrical and plumbing trade that would take almost three years to complete. This job prevented me from attending Church regularly.
During this time of doubt and reflection on the decision to take, I was inspired by the Savior’s promise in Matthew 6:33–34.
After careful reflection, I finally resolved to accept the call to serve a full-time mission, and it was at this point that I began to encounter a series of obstacles.
I quit my job and went to Côte d’Ivoire to work on my mission application. When I arrived in Côte d’Ivoire, my elder sister hosted me. I stayed with her for a while before finding a job.
After a few months, I found a job in a boutique where I was to be paid 600 francs CFA a day, or 20,000 francs CFA a month. I had to accept it because it was the only opportunity I had.
I also met a girl who agreed to be my girlfriend. I told her about my beliefs and my plans, and she was willing to stand by me.
During working hours, I would go to money agencies to deposit money in amounts ranging from 500,000 francs CFA to 4,000,000 francs CFA. Whenever I received any amount of money and recounted it, there was always a surplus, which I gave back to my boss. Surprised at my honesty and integrity, he increased my salary and often gave me 1,000 to 3,000 francs CFA every evening in addition to my salary. Each time I received my salary at the end of the month, I completed one task on the requirements list for my mission. During this time of unrelenting effort, I had a misunderstanding with my elder sister, so I had to move out and embark on a new adventure. I had no place to sleep because all the money I earned at the end of the month was invested in my mission application. I slept at my friends’ homes, where sometimes four people shared a small room. Some close friends declined my request to spend the night in their homes. There came a time when I wandered from house to house with my suitcase, looking for a place to lay my head. One night, with no place to sleep, I slept on the ground at a marketplace.
Through it all, I kept my faith and knew that the Lord gives no commandment to the children of men without preparing a way for them. (See1 Nephi 3:7.)
One evening, I met with my boss to discuss my situation and the goal I wanted to achieve (i.e. serving a full-time mission). After listening to me, he set a condition: If I would forgo my dream and stay with him, he would do everything for me. I knew he could do that. He had good intentions when he set this condition. He was very close to me, and I had become like a son to him. He trusted me more than some of his brothers. For me, the Savior‘s call was the most important thing. I, therefore, declined the offer. He even sent people to plead with me, but it was all in vain because I was determined to serve a mission.
Finally, I went to Abidjan to apply for my passport, during the COVID-19 pandemic. Along the way, we had to get off the bus and walk for miles to cross certain areas. We even had to walk through the forest during the trip.
There were all sorts of issues with getting a passport, but by God’s grace, I got mine.
After about a year of working on my mission application, I gave it to my bishop to submit it to the stake president. To my utter surprise, my bishop lost the file containing my passport and medical records. This was a huge ordeal for me. That night, I got on my knees and cried my heart out, pleading with God to make it possible for us to find the file. After my prayer, I told Heavenly Father that if we did not find the file, I would work on another application no matter how long it would take.
A few weeks later, a miracle happened: my file was found at the premises of my stake president’s company. The security guard had been keeping the file all this while since he did not know the owner.
This experience strengthened my faith in Christ, that He is mighty to save.
After receiving the file, we gave it to my stake president to fill it out and submit online. However, the file was not submitted online for nearly two months, and it was at this point that I felt like giving up. When I told my girlfriend that I wanted to give up, she replied with a statement that I had made at the beginning of our relationship, that nothing and no one could stop me from serving a full-time mission. I regained hope, called my stake president, and followed up with strict monitoring. When the application was submitted, I quit my job to better prepare for my mission. At one point, I ran out of food and was supported by my girlfriend.
Finally, my call came. I was called to serve in the Côte d’Ivoire Abidjan West Mission with President and Sister Lewis. I was so happy I had attained my goal. I had to go to the training center in Ghana, but due to the COVID-19 pandemic, I had to undergo my training online. There again, I paid for an internet bundle out of pocket until I ran out of money. A few days later I informed my trainer that I would have to stop taking the course for lack of money. Surprised by what he had just learned, he sent a message to my stake president, and the problem was resolved. I then proceeded with my training as planned.
I experienced adversity from the beginning of my preparation till the end. I am grateful for having kept the faith and for the hand of God that supported me during those trying times.
After my mission, I married that young girl who stood by me through it all. We now have a child who makes us so happy. I testify that as much as we shall put our trust in God even so much we shall be delivered out of our trials, and our troubles, and our afflictions, and we shall be lifted up at the last day. (See Alma 38:5.)

Three to one—that was the ratio published at the beginning of fall semester. Ten to one was more like it. Susan Taylor twisted and pulled herself into a half-lotus position just minutes before midnight, grabbed a yellow, ruled tablet, a no. 2 pencil, and scribbled her New Year’s resolution: “Get a date; get two; get engaged; get married.”
Straightening her spine into correct posture and breathing correctly, she lowered her head within inches of the floor, at the same time forcing her arms into an unnatural, towering position above her contorted body.
Nineteen seventy-four clocked out and 1975 clocked in while she held her breath. Nostalgic dance-band music, filtering into her bedroom from downstairs, signaled the New Year. Hanging full-length on the wall, the mirror reflected her 19-year-old freshman image. She stood, swiveling gracefully from side to side. Would the guys notice? She was slimmer; she seemed taller and prettier. But still, her legs were straight, her shoulders narrow. She had, however, learned to disguise figure faults. Now her brown hair caressed her shoulders. Her new dresses fell full and easy at her ankles.
“If it weren’t for Cynthia,” she thought, “I might have a chance.” Cynthia stalked from male to male—sweet-talking, smooth-walking Cindy lured admirers to her like a spider, trapping them in filmy webs of flattery. Thanks to her, Susan had sat dateless for 12 weeks, eating almond-studded chocolate bars.
But the New Year brought new hopes.
The New Year’s bells could have been campus bells, so swiftly did the time pass for Susan. She and 5,000 other students had blown into Rexburg on a wind and a prayer. They settled down and snuggled in for the winter.
Susan hesitated at the water fountain near the open door of COB 478, her first class of the new semester. She listened for her cue.
“Quiet, please. I’d like to …”
Head held high, Susan swung into the room, swishing an ankle-length plaid skirt. Sashaying, she dipped in and out of regimented rows of students, working toward an empty desk near the window, while the teacher and the students looked on. She flipped the last corner with a flourish, confident she was making a good impression.
Then suddenly an overhead projector loomed large in her way. She stumbled over it, catching her skirt on the neck of the projector. She hit the linoleum with a thud, her straight legs scissored under a row of desks, her skirt bunched at her knees. Students snickered.
“Welcome to class, Miss … uh?” the teacher said with a smile.
“Taylor,” Susan volunteered with a blush and a gulp.
“Did you hurt yourself, Miss Taylor?”
“No, sir. At least I don’t think so.” She pulled herself up.
Phase 2 followed on the heels of her clumsy beginning. It was easy—three public telephones in three boys’ dorms, three slips of paper on which she had written in her best hand, “A cute coed is waiting by a telephone for your call. Why not give her a ring? 356-9927.”
Susan slipped into the dorms early on a Saturday morning. Assuring herself no one was there, she walked on feline feet to the booths, pushed back the doors as quickly and quietly as she could, and stuffed her notes in the coin return slots. After all, who doesn’t look in the slot when he hears the false drop of a coin? It was easy; it was sure. Now all she had to do was wait. Carried along by the early morning wind, she bounded back to her apartment, took the stairs three at a time, and only then caught up with her breath as she sank into a vinyl-covered chair by the phone.
Painting her nails, styling her hair, she waited. Each ring vibrated in her ears and set her to jittering in the chair. Linda’s parents called from Salt Lake; two boys called for Cindy; Susan waited for a fourth call.
Ring! Susan lunged for the receiver.
“Hello?”
“Hello, cute coed,” the masculine voice drawled. “This is the call you’ve been waiting for. What’s your name?”
“Sue.”
“Sue what?”
A flutter of the heart and a pause.
“Sue Taylor. What’s your name?”
“Joe.” The voice continued, “Joe McIntire.” And then irritatingly, “I repair phones. Now quit abusing the telephone system or I’ll report you!”
Click!
Downstairs the lounge was quiet except for the soft shuffling of papers as Sister Calder sorted through an old cardboard box. Susan shrank past her to the door. She didn’t want to talk to anyone just now, least of all to a successfully married dorm parent. Outside in the hall she slipped a dime in the vending machine, pulled the button, and waited for the sliding and drop of a chocolate bar. She stuffed it into the pocket of her coat, turned up the fur collar around her neck and ears, and walked out into the wind.
The sky was iron-gray, breaking only a little light through at the horizon. Patches of dirt-peppered snow crusted on the frozen grass and at the edges of the sidewalk. Gravel scratched between the walk and her shoes as she turned south toward the hilltop above the campus buildings. She shifted her body first one way and then the other, trying to escape the full force of the wind. She leaned into it, every step an effort; then suddenly, it swooped up behind her, thrusting her forward effortlessly.
“Just like the wind,” she thought, “my life is out of control. Why does everything have to go wrong?” Pulling the hair out of her eyes, she looked for shelter.
Susan passed one house, two houses, three, and then an open field. Bordering the open field, a woodshed extended beyond a garage. She pushed her way there, finding a protected log lying between two cords of wood piled eight feet high. When she straddled the log, the wind raged only three feet above her head but seemed a whole world away. Tucked away in the wood, her head on her knees, she confronted herself. Struggling against the wind had swept her clean. She whispered prayers there among the buoying smells of sawdust and raw, wintry air.
The oncoming night had nearly pinched out the rim of light when she reentered the dorm. It was bright and warm in the lounge. A couple clasped hands in front of the television; Sister Calder knelt on the floor surrounded by piles of papers and magazines. The cardboard box was empty and cast off to the side. She glanced up.
“Susan! You look absolutely frozen. Come and sit for a minute.” Sister Calder smiled broadly and patted a nearby chair.
Thinking it easier to obey than make an excuse, Susan dropped to the chair and rubbed her icy hands on the warm upholstery. She gazed vacantly at the neat piles.
“What are you doing, Sister Calder?” she asked politely.
“I’m trying to sort through some things. Don tells me he doesn’t have room to turn around in that small apartment of ours. The only problem is, I just can’t bear to throw anything away.” She laughed heartily and raised her arms in hopelessness. “Our love letters, my decorating books, these old prints—I can’t part with any of it. Not even this, though I have another copy.” She picked up a New Era that had been making its own pile. “Here, you look at it; maybe there’s something in it you can use.”
Sister Calder thrust the magazine into Susan’s lap. It fell open. Susan held it for a moment, then looking closer, she read: “Young women in Zion, worrying takes energy. Instead of worrying why you don’t date or while you’re not married, expend that energy positively. Take a class. Make a recipe or home decorating file. Join a service club. Spend 15 minutes a day with the written testimonies of the prophets. In short, develop yourself into the kind of person who attracts the priesthood bearer you desire. Happiness does not miraculously begin with marriage—it strengthens marriage. Create your happiness now, for someday it will guide you into eternity.”
Help lay before her on the page. Though printed months before, the words spoke to her at this moment. Susan held it to her.
“Sister Calder, I will keep this, if you don’t mind.”
When Susan opened the apartment door, Cynthia was draped over the couch dreaming, her legs dangling prettily over the couch’s arm. As if suddenly animated, she bounced to her feet and twirled excitedly. Her auburn hair shone in the light; her cheeks flushed with life—she looked more beautiful than ever.
“Guess what?” she exclaimed. “This fantastic guy called from one of the boys’ dorms. He said he found my phone number in the telephone booth. Can you believe that? Gosh, we talked for just hours and hours. And he’s coming over tomorrow night to see me. Oh, I can hardly wait! How will I ever be able to concentrate till then?” Cynthia fell back to the couch in a swoon.
“Hey, what happened to you?” Cynthia looked at Susan as if seeing her for the first time. “You look like you’ve been out in a hurricane. Seriously, where have you been?”
“Seriously, I’ve been learning.”
“Well, that’s what they tell us we’re here for. Just between you and me, though, I’m working toward my MRS degree.” Her secret hardly popped out like a genie long-corked in a bottle.
Susan was amused at her confession. From Cindy’s lips she could hear her own narrow view of life rumbling, tumbling down in a heap on the floor. She started for the bedroom.
“Where are you going now?”
“I need some privacy, Cindy,” she smiled brightly. “I’m rewriting my New Year’s resolutions.” As if lifted up by a breeze, Susan glided past Cynthia into the room beyond.

It was the first night of girls’ camp. It had started to rain lightly, but we figured it would pass by. As the night went on, though, the rain got harder and the wind blew stronger. The group in my tent tried to sleep, but because we had only staked the four corners of our tent when we set it up, the sides were being pushed in and puddles started forming around the edges. It got so windy I was afraid the wind would take our tent with it!
Pretty soon our tent began to leak, and we were forced to move all of our things to the center of the tent. I huddled in a ball and started to silently cry. This was my first day of my first year at girls’ camp, and already things were going wrong.
At this point, my tent leader started to sing the song that we had chosen for our camp song, called “Sometimes He Lets It Rain.” The chorus says:
Sometimes He lets it rain
He lets fierce winds blow
Sometimes it takes a storm
To lead a heart where it can grow
He can move mountains of grief
And oceans of pain
But sometimes He lets it rain.
As we sang, we could hear the rain coming down on us, but we felt happier than before. We finally went and slept in the cars of the leaders. I only got four hours of sleep, but, amazingly, I felt energized and ready for our hike the next morning.
At our testimony meeting on the last night of camp, nearly all the girls who were in my tent bore their testimony about how that night strengthened us. He let it rain that night, but that storm led our hearts to where they could grow.

My father did not believe in accepting government handouts. While he was fit and able, he believed he should meet the needs of himself, my mother and me. It meant long hours, working at least two jobs until he finally retired at eighty-one. He had his own one-man business, travelling through the villages near where we lived, selling hardware out of the back of a small van. His customers were mainly agricultural workers living on very low wages. Frequently they couldn’t afford to pay him. and he would come home with a rabbit, some eggs and, on one occasion, a chair, given in place of cash. In turn, his compassionate heart was rewarded by the boss of his second job. Early mornings and evenings he would gut fish and pluck chickens, for which he was paid a wage and given gifts of fish, crab, and chicken.

In the mid-1950s my parents were picked at random to take part in a government household expenditure survey. Our completed form was returned for “obvious corrections”, as it was judged that three people could not live on such a small cash income (less than what social security would pay). But they didn’t know my parents and their ability to make something out of nothing (“summat out nowt”). They also didn’t know our neighbours, who were of higher economic standing, and who appreciated my parents’ honesty, integrity, compassion, and hard work, consequently putting work their way and providing much of our clothing needs.

The Lord blesses those who keep His commandments, whether they know they are doing so or not. My father lived the second great commandment (“thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself”—Matthew 19:19) and taught me, as the Lord did Adam and Eve, that we “shall eat [our] bread by the sweat of our [our] brow” (Moses 5:1).

[As the play progresses, a new family enters town to join the United Order—Brother WILLIAM RUSSELL, an ailing widower, and his teenage daughter, CATHERINE ANN. The newcomers have just met BROTHER GARRISON, president of the Order. EZRA is also present.]
BROTHER RUSSELL: I wish we did have more to consecrate to the Order. But these two bags are all we own of the world. And this necklace of my daughter’s. It’s real gold.
CATHERINE ANN: Papa! No! You gave it to me when I turned sixteen. It’s mine!
PRESIDENT GARRISON: That’s all right, Miss Catherine Ann. Jewelry and keepsakes are not required. And we’ve never turned anybody away yet on account of poverty.
BROTHER RUSSELL: No, I couldn’t come and not bring something that’ll help. Please, Catherine Ann, for me?
[Slowly CATHERINE ANN takes off the necklace and gives it to her father, who hands it to PRESIDENT GARRISON.]
PRESIDENT GARRISON: When there are people starving in Orderville, we will sell this for food. Until then, I reckon we need somebody who can take very good care of it. Miss Catherine Ann, I’m asking you to be steward of this necklace.
CATHERINE ANN [taking it gratefully]: Thank you.
PRESIDENT GARRISON [smiling]: You’ll find that life here isn’t so bad as you’re expecting. If you put your heart into it, you’ll catch the vision of the Order and see it like we do.
CATHERINE ANN: To be honest, I just don’t see it at all. What’s wrong with living like—like regular folks?

Katie sat up in bed and took a deep breath. It was Sunday morning again.
As she picked out the dress she would wear for church, Katie could hear her parents in the kitchen. But she knew they weren’t busy getting ready for church.
“Katie, turn the light off. I’m trying to sleep!” Katie’s sister mumbled, pulling the covers over her head.
“Sorry!” Katie said and quickly snapped the light off. She grabbed a dress from the closet, put it on, and hurried out of the room to let her sister sleep.
Katie could remember when her parents used to take her family to church, but that hadn’t happened in a while. She could tell her house felt different since they had stopped going.
Her mom stood at the counter in a bathrobe, pouring herself a cup of coffee. “Morning, Katie,” she said with a smile. “Is Sister Chang giving you a ride to church?”
“Yup.” Every Saturday night Katie called her Primary teacher and asked for a ride to church. Sister Chang always said yes.
Katie heard her dad’s mug clink as he set it on the table. “Looks like the game’s on at noon,” he mumbled from behind the Sunday paper.
Knock, knock.
Katie looked at the door and grinned. Sister Chang was here.
“See you all later!” Katie said. She rushed to the door and threw it open.
Sister Chang smiled. “Are you ready to go to church, Katie?”
Katie nodded and smiled back. “Yes!” she said. She closed the front door and walked with Sister Chang to the car.
At church Katie took the sacrament and sat reverently while it was passed. She listened to the talks in sacrament meeting. She listened to her Primary lessons and learned about Alma the Younger in the Book of Mormon. Although she didn’t understand everything that was said, she knew that the peaceful feeling she had inside was something she didn’t feel anywhere else.
As she and Sister Chang drove home after Primary, Sister Chang asked if she’d enjoyed church.
Katie nodded. “I always love going.”
“I admire that about you, Katie. Not everyone would go to church if their parents didn’t go. I know it’s not easy for you, but you are making the right decision.”
“I know it’s the right decision,” Katie said, “because I feel happy at church. I love that feeling.”
As Katie walked inside after being dropped off, she saw her family watching TV, talking on the phone, and cleaning the house. She loved them no matter what.
Katie went to her quiet bedroom and sat on her bed. She said a prayer to Heavenly Father asking for the spirit she felt at church to stay with her for the rest of the week. She also asked Heavenly Father to help her family want to live the gospel and go to church so they could feel what she felt. Then she opened her scriptures and began to read.

Some years ago we stopped at a small restaurant. The young woman who served our meal was courteous but very sober. When she handed me the check, I said, “Can you tell us which road we take to get out of town?” Suddenly she burst into tears and said, “Mister, I don’t even know how I got into this town.”
I have wished more than once that we could have gone to a table in the corner and talked. Perhaps we could have helped her.

“What are we going to do now?” asked Danny as Mom put a batch of cinnamon rolls into the oven.
Before Mom could answer, Elizabeth asked, “Mom, when will Christmas be here? I want to open my presents.”
Mom sighed as she shut the oven door and set the timer. “There’s a lot we can do, Danny, and, Elizabeth, there’s much, much more to Christmas than opening presents.” She sat down. “Let’s see—how about a game?”
The children nodded enthusiastically.
“Elizabeth, I want you to get Baby Jesus from the nativity set in the family room.”
Elizabeth ran into the family room. She quickly came back with Baby Jesus.
“Now, Danny, close your eyes while Elizabeth hides the Baby Jesus. She’ll tell you when you can open them. Then you look for Him. If you’re far away, she’ll say you’re cold or colder. But if you’re getting closer to the hiding place, she’ll say you’re warm or warmer. Do you understand?” When Danny nodded, Mom said, “All right, close your eyes, Danny.”
Danny put his hands over his eyes. Elizabeth quickly put the Baby Jesus on the music stand of the piano. She looked at Mom and silently mouthed, “Is that OK?”
Mom smiled and nodded.
Elizabeth moved back next to Mom. “You can open your eyes now, Danny.”
Danny uncovered his eyes and took several steps toward the couch.
“You’re cold,” said Elizabeth.
“Colder,” Danny heard as he looked under the end table. “Colder. Oh, Danny, you’re as cold as you can get over there by the fireplace!” declared Elizabeth.
Danny slumped his shoulders in frustration and said, “I don’t like this game.”
“Don’t give up,” urged Mom. “Now that you know where the Baby Jesus isn’t, you should have a better idea about where He is.”
Danny thought a minute, then did an about-face.
Elizabeth cheered, “Hooray! You’re getting warmer.”
Then, instead of looking down, Danny looked up at the piano. He smiled and stood tall as he walked toward the piano.
“Warm, warmer, warmest!” declared Elizabeth as he reached out his hand and picked up Baby Jesus.
“Danny wins the game!” announced Mom.
Danny had a great big grin on his face, and Elizabeth had one too. Mom gathered them both in her arms and explained. “You see, the real purpose of Christmas is like our little game. It’s to try to get closer to Jesus. When we do, we feel warm. If you get that good, warm feeling, the Spirit is telling you that you’re doing the kinds of things that Jesus would like.”
Bzzzz!
“The cinnamon rolls are done,” shouted Elizabeth and Danny.
“Why don’t you two put on your coats while I frost the rolls? Then you can deliver some to Mrs. Simms while they’re still hot.”
Elizabeth and Danny rushed into the house after delivering the rolls. “Mom! Mom! Mrs. Simms was so happy to get the rolls that she had tears in her eyes!” reported Danny.
“I think Jesus liked us giving her the rolls, because I feel warm inside,” said Elizabeth. “And if you’re warm, you’re getting closer.”

My husband and I were traveling to his parents’ home after a camping trip. With little cell service, we decided to use our GPS. We turned it on and set it on the shortest route to their home.
With just an hour or so to go, the GPS directed us to turn left onto a dirt road off the main highway. Though we were a bit confused by the directions, we trusted in the GPS and continued along this route. Before long, we were navigating some muddy sections on the road due to the scattered rain showers. At each puddle we encountered, we considered turning around, but we pushed forward. We felt we’d gone too far to turn back.
We reached a puddle that was so large, we got stuck.
We were alone in the mountains (besides wild animals). We hadn’t seen more than a couple vehicles since we’d left the main highway.
One thing was certain: there was no way we could get our car out of the mud on our own. In that moment, I was terrified. And in hindsight, there were some important parallels about trust that I drew from this experience.
When we prayed to God for help after getting stuck, He brought peace to our hearts, and we trusted His prompting. Then we acted in faith. We walked a quarter of a mile to find a spot where we had cell service and could call our family. We told them what had happened and were able to give them a good idea of our location. Then we waited.
Near midnight, after being stuck for more than six hours, our family arrived to help. I felt an intense measure of relief and joy as we made gradual progress down the mountain toward their home, where dinner was waiting for us.