Gospel Story Finder

I think it important that we get acquainted with Him. I wonder if I should tell a story. Sometimes I have been accused of doing that. I can’t help it. I’m like a man having fits. When a man has fits he knows he is going to have one—he feels it coming on and he has it. When I feel a story coming on, the only possible thing for me to do is to tell it. This story has to do with an experience of my own.

An Aura of Awful Blackness

It has been indicated that I was asked to come down from Canada at a time when I was drilling oil wells, a time when I thought I was almost a millionaire, a time when it looked like nothing could save me from becoming a millionaire. I didn’t want to be saved from the down-drag of money, but I had, at that time, a sort of feeling that I wanted to know whether it was right for me to pursue the course I was taking.

I awoke one morning at about three o’clock—mornings come early up there in the summertime. I was in a little cottage up in the Canadian Rockies. I was worried and bothered. I got out of my bed, dressed, and went up into the mountains, far back in the hills, remembering that the Savior often went to the mountains for His communications with His Father.

When I got up in the mountains on top of a peak, I was all alone. I removed my hat, and in a loud voice I said, “Oh, God, are you there? You know that I am about to be a millionaire, or I think I am. Father, if this is not to be good for me or my family, don’t allow it to happen. If it is going to rob my family of their faith, don’t allow it to happen.” I talked to Him as a man would talk to another man. I didn’t seem to get an answer. I stayed up there for some time.

I drove that evening back to Edmonton, and upon arriving I said to Sister Brown, “I think I’ll not want any supper tonight. I think I’ll go in the back bedroom and sleep. You had better stay in the other room, because I fear I am going to have a wakeful night.”

I went into that bedroom and closed the door, and I was conscious of a blackness such as I had never known. There was something in that room that made me feel very sincerely that I would like to be rubbed out—that I would like to cease to be. I didn’t think of suicide, but I did think seriously that if there were any way that I could be washed out, that would be the best thing that could happen to me.

I spent the night in that attitude, in that aura of awful blackness. Early in the morning Sister Brown came in—she had heard me walking the floor. When she closed the door, she said, “My goodness, my dear! What’s in this room?”

I said, “The devil is in this room, and he is trying to destroy me.”

Deliverance and Peace

Together we knelt at the bedside and prayed for guidance and deliverance. We didn’t seem to get it. The next morning I went down to my office in the city. It was Saturday. I knew no one would be there, and I wanted to be alone. I knelt by my cot and pleaded to God for deliverance, for that awful blackness was still on my soul. And it seemed to me that the sun came up. I obtained peace of soul and serenity of spirit.

I phoned Sister Brown and told her, “Every­thing is all right. I don’t know what happened, but it’s all right.”

A Call from the Prophet

That night I was taking a bath. The telephone rang. Sister Brown came to the door and said, “Salt Lake is calling.”

I said, “Who in the dickens wants to talk to me at this time of night?” It was 10:30. I went to the phone.

When I said hello I heard a voice that said, “This is David O. McKay calling.”

I said, “Yes, President McKay.”

“The Lord wants you to give the balance of your life to the Church. Tomorrow will be the closing session of conference. Can you get here in time for the afternoon session?”

I told him I couldn’t, as there were no planes flying. He said, “Come as soon as you can.”

You know, I didn’t think to ask him what there was in it. That’s what I would do in an ordinary business deal.

I hung up, and that night—this was the night following the night of blackness in our lives—Sister Brown and I spent another wakeful night, but it was a night of bliss. Not that we were looking for position, but to think that the God of heaven would reach out l,200 miles and touch a man on the shoulder and say, “Come,” and to think that I would be that man was almost more than I could understand!

I told the president when I came down thirty days later about this experience, and he said, “As far as I know, every man who is called into the General Authorities has to wrestle with the devil.” You have to have a lot of courage if you come out victorious.

I share the story of the Laing family of Southern California. Sister Rebecca Laing writes:
“In the summer of 2011, life for our family was seemingly perfect. We were happily married with four children—ages 9, 7, 5, and 3. …
“My pregnancies and deliveries [had been] high risk … [and] we felt [very] blessed to have four children, [thinking] that our family was complete. In October while listening to general conference, I felt an unmistakable feeling that we were to have another baby. As LeGrand and I pondered and prayed, … we knew that God had a different plan for us than we had for ourselves.
“After another difficult pregnancy and delivery, we were blessed with a beautiful baby girl. We named her Brielle. She was a miracle. Moments after her birth, while still in [the delivery room], I heard the unmistakable voice of the Spirit: ‘There is one more.’
“Three years later, another miracle, Mia. Brielle and Mia are a tremendous joy for our family.” She concludes, “Being open to the Lord’s direction and following His plan for us will always bring greater happiness than … relying on our own understanding.”

It sometimes happens that the happiness we seek in many ways and in many places is to be found where we least expect it. So it was with me. I had happiness within my grasp all the time, but for years I did not recognize it.
I was 24 years old in 1981 when I was baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. My husband was baptized with me. At the time, our daughter, Juliana, was two years old. Our branch in Tucuruvi, Brazil, was so small that we met in a home on Avenida Nova Cantareira. For some reason, after attending meetings for less than a year, we left the Church.
By the time we moved to Guarulhos in 1983, we had no desire to return to the Church and had lost complete contact with Church members. This was a time of great difficulty for us. One day while I was sweeping the house, my husband and I decided to throw all of our old Church books in the garbage. Among the books was a copy of the Book of Mormon.
In all the time I had owned the book, I had never opened it. I considered the book of no value. But as I went to place it in the trash, Juliana, who was four years old at the time caught sight of the figure of the angel Moroni on the cover and said, “No, Mama, don’t throw that book away!” I thought of throwing it away anyway, but I looked at my husband and he looked at me. We decided to honor our daughter’s request.
And so the book remained in our home.
In 1987 I gave birth to our third child and experienced some difficult health problems. I began seeking the truth, trying to find some answers to why I was so unhappy. In despair, I began to believe there was no salvation for me.
One day in 1989, the Lord prompted me to pick up the Book of Mormon. I started to read it—and found I could hardly stop. Each day I waited eagerly for the dawn so I could continue reading. The Spirit was so strong within me that I cried. I finally understood how much I had lost by leaving the path of the Lord I had once been on.
I resolved to find the Church. Searching our telephone book, I found the Church’s name and called the number listed. We started attending meetings again and have remained active ever since. My husband and I have now been to the temple, and we are sealed as a family for eternity.
I know that the Book of Mormon is true and that if we study it constantly, we will find the strength to overcome any obstacle. I thank Heavenly Father both for my blessings and for my trials—and for prompting our daughter to keep us from throwing the Book of Mormon away. I know that had I thrown the book away, with it I would have thrown away my happiness.

I was raised on a small farm in northern Utah. We were blessed to have enough land—not enough to make a living, but enough to make work for a young boy. My parents were good, hardworking, industrious people. In order to make ends meet, my father took outside employment. Each morning before he left for work, he would make a list of chores he wanted me to accomplish before he came home that evening.
I remember on one occasion one of the items on the list was to take a small broken part from our hay rake to the blacksmith shop to have it repaired. I was uncomfortable about going. My father hadn’t left any money, and I wondered what I should do. I put off going as long as I could. When all my other chores were finished, I knew I couldn’t avoid it any longer. Father expected the broken part to be repaired when he came home, and it was my responsibility to see that it was done.
I can still remember walking the mile or so to the blacksmith shop. I even remember how uncomfortable I was as I watched him weld the part. As he finished, I nervously told him that I had no money, but that my father would pay him later. I’m sure he sensed my anxiety. He patted me on the shoulder and said, “Son, don’t worry, your father’s word is as good as his bond.” I remember running all the way home, relieved that the part had been repaired and grateful that my father was known as a man whose word was as good as his bond.
As a boy I didn’t fully understand what that meant, but I knew it was good and something to be desired. It was years later that I recognized that a person whose word is as good as his bond is a person of honesty and integrity, a person to be trusted. In today’s world, there are some who think nothing of breaking their word, their promises, their covenants with man and with God. What a blessing it is to deal with those whom we can trust.

Elder Gordon B. Hinckley told a story after going into Vietnam that to me was a great lesson. There was a young man, as I remember it, who was in the military service in Vietnam and who joined the Church and was now about to go back to his home country in Southeast Asia.
Brother Hinckley said to him, “What is it going to do to you when you get back home now that you have joined the Church?”
“Oh,” said the youth, “I will be cast out. My family will disown me. I will have difficulty in school. I will have no military rank.”
Elder Hinckley then asked, “Isn’t that a pretty big price to pay?”
And this young man looked at Elder Hinckley and said, “Well, the gospel is true, isn’t it?”
That was a soul-searching question for Brother Hinckley, who replied: “Yes, my boy, with all my soul, the gospel is true.”
And then this young man said, “Well, what else matters then?”

When I was born, our family lived in a tiny cottage on the grounds of one of the great and historic meetinghouses of the Church, the Honolulu Tabernacle. I now apologize to my dear friends in the Presiding Bishopric, who oversee the facilities of the Church, but as a boy I climbed over and under and through every inch of that property, from the bottom of the water-filled reflecting pool to the top of the inside of the imposing lighted steeple. We even swung (Tarzan-like) on the long hanging vines of the huge banyan trees that are on the site.
The Church was everything to us. We went to lots of meetings, even more than we have today. We attended Primary on Thursday afternoons. Relief Society meetings were on Tuesday mornings. Mutual for the youth was Wednesday night. Saturday was for ward activities. On Sunday, men and young men would go to priesthood meeting in the morning. Midday we would attend Sunday School. Then in the evening we returned for sacrament meeting. With comings and goings and meetings, it seemed our time was consumed with Church activities all day Sunday and most other days of the week.
As much as I loved the Church, it was during those boyhood days that, for the first time, I had a sense there was something even more. When I was five years old, a major conference was held at the tabernacle. We walked down the lane on which we lived and over a small bridge leading to the stately meetinghouse and sat on about the 10th row in the large chapel. Presiding and speaking at the meeting was David O. McKay, the President of the Church. I do not recall anything he said, but I vividly remember what I saw and what I felt. President McKay was dressed in a cream-colored suit and, with his wavy white hair, looked very regal. In the tradition of the islands, he wore a triple-thick red carnation lei. As he spoke, I felt something quite intense and very personal. I later understood that I was feeling the influence of the Holy Spirit. We sang the closing hymn.
Who’s on the Lord’s side? Who?
Now is the time to show.
We ask it fearlessly:
Who’s on the Lord’s side? Who?
(“Who’s on the Lord’s Side?” Hymns, no. 260)
With those words being sung by nearly 2,000 people but seeming to be a question posed just to me, I wanted to stand and say, “I am!”

One day in Italy I met a wonderful priesthood leader and his wife. In him I saw a man with great potential. But my language was foreign to them. Through an interpreter, I challenged them to study the English language. They listened obediently and studied diligently. Now six years later, ably sustained by his wife, Carolina, Vincenzo Conforte is faithfully serving his second assignment as a mission president, interviewing missionaries well in Italian or in English.

Jackie:
Being a newlywed has been a change. Honestly speaking, God is super important within our relationship. Without God, we might have broken up!

Jason:
In the beginning of our marriage, I used to be on my phone using social media or checking emails. It was easy for me to get stuck in the phone or computer.

We realized that we needed to spend more time together. So now we do housework together. This helps us get it done, and we are able to be with each other.

Jackie:
We try to squeeze some time in the mornings to be together, but mornings can get busy.

We also try to take time in the evenings to talk about our day; then we pray and read the scriptures before we sleep. Living the gospel has blessed our marriage.

Jason and Jackie know it’s important to stay connected as spouses. They also know it’s essential to stay connected to God. Regular prayer has strengthened and blessed their marriage.

Despite their busy schedules, Jason and Jackie make sure they take time in the evenings to read the scriptures together.

Brothers and sisters, when we met in general conference six months ago, none of us anticipated the coming changes that would tug at the heartstrings of the entire Church. Elder L. Tom Perry delivered a powerful message about the irreplaceable role that marriage and family occupy in the Lord’s plan. We were stunned when just a few days later, we learned of the cancer that would soon take him from us.

Though President Boyd K. Packer’s health had been declining, he continued to “soldier on” in the work of the Lord. He was frail last April, yet he was determined to declare his witness as long as he had breath. Then, just 34 days after Elder Perry’s passing, President Packer also stepped across the veil.

We missed Elder Richard G. Scott at our last general conference, but we’ve reflected upon the powerful witness of the Savior he had borne in many previous conferences. And just 12 days ago, Elder Scott was called home and reunited with his beloved Jeanene.

I had the privilege of being with all of these Brethren during their final days, including joining members of President Packer’s and Elder Scott’s immediate families just before their passing. It has been difficult for me to believe that these three treasured friends, these magnificent servants of the Lord, are gone. I miss them more than I can say.

As I’ve reflected on this unexpected turn of events, one of the impressions that has lingered with me is that which I observed in these surviving wives. Etched in my mind are the serene images of Sister Donna Smith Packer and Sister Barbara Dayton Perry at their husbands’ bedsides, both women filled with love, truth, and pure faith.

As Sister Packer sat next to her husband in his final hours, she radiated that peace that passes all understanding.1 Though she realized that her beloved companion of almost 70 years would soon depart, she showed the tranquility of a faith-filled woman. She seemed angelic, just as she was in this photo of them at the dedication of the Brigham City Utah Temple.

I saw that same kind of love and faith emanating from Sister Perry. Her devotion to both her husband and the Lord was obvious, and it moved me deeply.

Through their husbands’ final hours and continuing to the present day, these stalwart women have shown the strength and courage that covenant-keeping women always demonstrate.2 It would be impossible to measure the influence that such women have, not only on families but also on the Lord’s Church, as wives, mothers, and grandmothers; as sisters and aunts; as teachers and leaders; and especially as exemplars and devout defenders of the faith.3

This has been true in every gospel dispensation since the days of Adam and Eve. Yet the women of this dispensation are distinct from the women of any other because this dispensation is distinct from any other.4 This distinction brings both privileges and responsibilities.

Thirty-six years ago, in 1979, President Spencer W. Kimball made a profound prophecy about the impact that covenant-keeping women would have on the future of the Lord’s Church. He prophesied: “Much of the major growth that is coming to the Church in the last days will come because many of the good women of the world … will be drawn to the Church in large numbers. This will happen to the degree that the women of the Church reflect righteousness and articulateness in their lives and to the degree that the women of the Church are seen as distinct and different—in happy ways—from the women of the world.”5

My dear sisters, you who are our vital associates during this winding-up scene, the day that President Kimball foresaw is today. You are the women he foresaw! Your virtue, light, love, knowledge, courage, character, faith, and righteous lives will draw good women of the world, along with their families, to the Church in unprecedented numbers!6

We, your brethren, need your strength, your conversion, your conviction, your ability to lead, your wisdom, and your voices. The kingdom of God is not and cannot be complete without women who make sacred covenants and then keep them, women who can speak with the power and authority of God!7

President Packer declared:

“We need women who are organized and women who can organize. We need women with executive ability who can plan and direct and administer; women who can teach, women who can speak out. …

“We need women with the gift of discernment who can view the trends in the world and detect those that, however popular, are shallow or dangerous.”8

Today, let me add that we need women who know how to make important things happen by their faith and who are courageous defenders of morality and families in a sin-sick world. We need women who are devoted to shepherding God’s children along the covenant path toward exaltation; women who know how to receive personal revelation, who understand the power and peace of the temple endowment; women who know how to call upon the powers of heaven to protect and strengthen children and families; women who teach fearlessly.

Throughout my life, I have been blessed by such women. My departed wife, Dantzel, was such a woman. I will always be grateful for the life-changing influence she had on me in all aspects of my life, including my pioneering efforts in open-heart surgery.

Fifty-eight years ago I was asked to operate upon a little girl, gravely ill from congenital heart disease. Her older brother had previously died of a similar condition. Her parents pleaded for help. I was not optimistic about the outcome but vowed to do all in my power to save her life. Despite my best efforts, the child died. Later, the same parents brought another daughter to me, then just 16 months old, also born with a malformed heart. Again, at their request, I performed an operation. This child also died. This third heartbreaking loss in one family literally undid me.

I went home grief stricken. I threw myself upon our living room floor and cried all night long. Dantzel stayed by my side, listening as I repeatedly declared that I would never perform another heart operation. Then, around 5:00 in the morning, Dantzel looked at me and lovingly asked, “Are you finished crying? Then get dressed. Go back to the lab. Go to work! You need to learn more. If you quit now, others will have to painfully learn what you already know.”

Oh, how I needed my wife’s vision, grit, and love! I went back to work and learned more. If it weren’t for Dantzel’s inspired prodding, I would not have pursued open-heart surgery and would not have been prepared to do the operation in 1972 that saved the life of President Spencer W. Kimball.9

Sisters, do you realize the breadth and scope of your influence when you speak those things that come to your heart and mind as directed by the Spirit? A superb stake president told me of a stake council meeting in which they were wrestling with a difficult challenge. At one point, he realized that the stake Primary president had not spoken, so he asked if she had any impressions. “Well, actually I have,” she said and then proceeded to share a thought that changed the entire direction of the meeting. The stake president continued, “As she spoke, the Spirit testified to me that she had given voice to the revelation we had been seeking as a council.”

My dear sisters, whatever your calling, whatever your circumstances, we need your impressions, your insights, and your inspiration. We need you to speak up and speak out in ward and stake councils. We need each married sister to speak as “a contributing and full partner”10 as you unite with your husband in governing your family. Married or single, you sisters possess distinctive capabilities and special intuition you have received as gifts from God. We brethren cannot duplicate your unique influence.

We know that the culminating act of all creation was the creation of woman!11 We need your strength!

Attacks against the Church, its doctrine, and our way of life are going to increase. Because of this, we need women who have a bedrock understanding of the doctrine of Christ and who will use that understanding to teach and help raise a sin-resistant generation.12 We need women who can detect deception in all of its forms. We need women who know how to access the power that God makes available to covenant keepers and who express their beliefs with confidence and charity. We need women who have the courage and vision of our Mother Eve.

My dear sisters, nothing is more crucial to your eternal life than your own conversion. It is converted, covenant-keeping women—women like my dear wife Wendy—whose righteous lives will increasingly stand out in a deteriorating world and who will thus be seen as different and distinct in the happiest of ways.

So today I plead with my sisters of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints to step forward! Take your rightful and needful place in your home, in your community, and in the kingdom of God—more than you ever have before. I plead with you to fulfill President Kimball’s prophecy. And I promise you in the name of Jesus Christ that as you do so, the Holy Ghost will magnify your influence in an unprecedented way!

I bear witness of the reality of the Lord Jesus Christ and of His redeeming, atoning, and sanctifying power. And as one of His Apostles, I thank you, my dear sisters, and bless you to rise to your full stature, to fulfill the measure of your creation, as we walk arm in arm in this sacred work. Together we will help prepare the world for the Second Coming of the Lord. Of this I testify, as your brother, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Eighteen-year-old Annie Smith wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck and looked back across the railroad bridge she and her students had just crossed. The students were from her one-room schoolhouse in Porterville, Utah. They were a variety of ages and sizes; some students were even older than she was. She was glad to see the older ones helping the younger ones along the tracks. It was a beautiful winter day in 1892, a perfect day for their school outing. She and her students had already enjoyed dinner at her house and a sleigh ride.
Annie felt a small hand slip into hers. She looked down into the face of her youngest student, little Hughie. His brown eyes were large with excitement.
“Do we really get to walk through the tunnel?” he asked nervously.
Annie nodded. “I have special permission from the railroad. They said no trains are scheduled for today, so it will be perfectly safe.” She looked at the dark opening of the mountain tunnel ahead. “It’s a long, dark tunnel, Hughie, and there are no lights inside. But on the other side is a beautiful view of the rockslide and the valley.”
Hughie gave a little sigh and smiled. Annie’s words had put his fears to rest. Now he tugged on her arm. “Come on, Teacher. Let’s go see the valley.”
Soon they were all inside the tunnel. It took a while for their eyes to adjust to the darkness after the bright daylight. “Go slowly,” Annie said. Her voice echoed in the tunnel. “Stay on the tracks and hold hands so you don’t fall.”
At first the children were laughing and joking, but they soon grew quiet as they concentrated on keeping their footing. Their footsteps grated on the gravel as they guided each other over the railroad ties.
Annie knew they were about halfway through the tunnel when she saw a small circle of light in the darkness ahead. “We’re almost there,” she told her students. “Look at the light.”
As they paused to look, they heard a rumbling noise behind them, and then a sound that terrified them—a train whistle.
“Teacher?” It was Hughie’s voice. “Did you hear?”
Annie hushed him quickly. She stood frozen on the tracks, not daring to believe her ears. But then the whistle sounded again, nearer this time. There was a train rounding the point of the mountain and coming very fast toward the bridge they had just crossed!
Annie prayed silently for help. Please, Heavenly Father, what should I do? Tell me what to do.
“Teacher?” an older child asked. “Should we run?”
The tracks were starting to vibrate under their feet.
“No!” Annie commanded. The words seemed to spring from her lips of their own accord. “Lie down at once as close to the wall as possible. Don’t move or try to get up until I say you can. Now, go!”
She had to shout the last word over the sound of the approaching train. She pulled the nearest child with her to the wall of the tunnel and held him tight. As the train roared into the tunnel, many of the children screamed in terror. Sparks flew from the smokestack, and the smoke almost suffocated them. The train seemed to go on forever. Annie trembled and tightened her grip on the child she was holding, afraid she might lose him in the hot, rushing wind that swept through the tunnel with the train.
When the train was finally gone, she helped the child up and hurried toward the light. She went as swiftly as she could, tripping on stones and helping her students, who were also rushing to get out of the dark.
Once outside the tunnel, one of the older children asked, “Where’s Hughie?”
Taking some older boys with her, Annie returned to the dark tunnel, afraid of what she might find. The boys ran ahead calling Hughie’s name. “He’s here!” a boy called, relief in his voice. “He’s still lying facedown by the wall.”
Annie heard another boy comforting him. “It’s OK, Hughie. The train is gone. You can get up now.”
Hughie turned his face toward them and said in a brave but frightened voice, “Did Teacher say I could?”
Annie hurried over and put her arms around him. “Oh, Hughie,” she said with tears forming in her eyes. “Thank you for being so obedient. You did the right thing, and you are safe. You can get up now. Teacher says so.”
Hughie got to his feet, and Annie took his hand and led him toward the light. She silently thanked Heavenly Father for watching over this little boy who had such faith in his teacher. She hoped she would always live worthy of that trust.
Annie also knew her trust in Heavenly Father had been rewarded. Her prayer had been answered when she told the children what they needed to do to be safe. They were spared because they immediately obeyed those instructions. There is safety in obedience. That was a lesson Hughie, the other students, and their teacher never forgot.

On 22 October we held an outside lighting up ceremony, conducted by Sister Yvonne Kerr. Besides members of the ward, we had in attendance invited guests who included the lord lieutenant of Clackmannanshire, Lt Col (Retd) Johnny Stewart, and the most senior member of the Alloa Ward, Sister Dorothy Kendall, who pushed a button that lit up the monumental display. Esther Wilford beautifully sang Vera Lynn’s “When The Lights Go on Again, All over The World” and “I Vow to Thee My Country”. One of our Primary children, Emma Black, read the much-quoted lines from ‘For the Fallen’ by Laurence Binyon. People passing stopped to join the crowd, inside and outside of the fencing surrounding the grounds.
Just before the button was pressed to illuminate the display, we acknowledged to the assembled crowd, many who were not members of our Church, that as members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, we try to put Christ at the centre of all we do and it was in His name that on that night and during the season of remembrance, we honour those from World War I and World War II who fought and fell to give us our freedom, but the display also honours and gives reverence to those in the past and those who currently protect our land, shores, and skies from unseen enemies. They are the real heroes, and that really is what the display is about.

Some years ago in the Salt Lake Tabernacle, Elder Marion D. Hanks conducted a panel discussion. Included in that panel was an attractive and able young woman, divorced, the mother of seven children then ranging in ages from 7 to 16. She said that one evening she went across the street to deliver something to a neighbor. Listen to her words, as I recall them:
“As I turned around to walk back home, I could see my house lighted up. I could hear echoes of my children as I had walked out of the door a few minutes earlier. They were saying: ‘Mom, what are we going to have for dinner?’ ‘Can you take me to the library?’ ‘I have to get some poster paper tonight.’ Tired and weary, I looked at that house and saw the light on in each of the rooms. I thought of all of those children who were home waiting for me to come and meet their needs. My burdens felt heavier than I could bear.
“I remember looking through tears toward the sky, and I said, ‘Dear Father, I just can’t do it tonight. I’m too tired. I can’t face it. I can’t go home and take care of all those children alone. Could I just come to You and stay with You for just one night? I’ll come back in the morning.’
“I didn’t really hear the words of reply, but I heard them in my mind. The answer was: ‘No, little one, you can’t come to me now. You would never wish to come back. But I can come to you.’”
There are so very many like this young mother, who found herself in loneliness and desperation but was fortunate enough to have faith in the Lord, who could love her and help her.

Andrea could see the large granite pillar from the van window before she and her Primary class pulled into the parking lot. Sister Birchall had told them that the monument was 38 1/2 feet tall, one foot for every year of Joseph Smith’s life.
Andrea’s friend Becky squirmed excitedly on the seat next to her. “We’ll really get to be where Joseph Smith was born!” Becky said.
Andrea had been looking forward to this Primary activity since Sister Birchall had announced their class was visiting Sharon, Vermont, just a short drive away. Andrea had prayed that she would feel the Holy Ghost here. She wanted to have a spiritual experience like the people who bore their testimonies at church. The scriptures say that if you ask in faith, Heavenly Father will bless you. Andrea believed that was true.
A light rain was falling when the class pulled into the parking lot. A senior sister missionary was waiting for them.
“Hello!” she called. “I’m sorry that we don’t have the music playing through the trees for you right now. We usually do, but we turned it off because of the rain. Maybe you can hear it before you leave.”
Andrea liked the missionary, whose black name tag read Sister Grant. She reminded Andrea of her grandma. Sister Grant and Elder Grant told the class stories about Joseph Smith and showed them where he was born. After the tour, the missionaries let them look around the museum.
“Andrea, come see this!” Becky called. She was pointing at a painting of Lucy Mack Smith.
Elder Grant walked up behind the girls. “She was a great woman. Even before Joseph had the First Vision, she and her family were close to the Holy Ghost. They often liked to go out into the woods to think and pray.”
Andrea remembered her goal to feel the Spirit today. When people at church said they felt the Holy Ghost they usually cried. Andrea hadn’t felt like crying even a little today.
Sister Birchall walked in and told them they would be leaving in half an hour. “The rain has stopped, so you can go look at the monument now.”
Andrea looked over at Becky, who was talking to another girl from their class. This was Andrea’s chance.
She left as quickly as she could and walked toward the woods behind the monument. To the left, Andrea saw a small clearing. “Perfect,” she thought.
She walked into the middle of the weeds and knelt down, placing her coat under her knees so they would not get wet. “Maybe I’m in the same place that Lucy went to think and pray,” she thought.
Andrea closed her eyes and again prayed for the Holy Ghost to be with her. She didn’t feel anything. Andrea was confused. Why wasn’t she crying? Disappointed, she got up and walked out of the clearing. There was a small dirt road behind the monument. Andrea decided she had enough time to walk down it a little way. As she walked through the tall trees, Andrea noticed that there was a peaceful feeling in these woods—quiet and calm like a chapel. The air smelled fresh and clean from the rain, and everything was a bright, clear green. She also noticed that the sun had come out from behind the clouds and was reflecting off the wet leaves and pine needles in bright glints of light. She added a happy skip to her walk.
A little bubble of happiness was growing inside Andrea, and became so big that she thought she would burst with joy. She wanted to start singing and laughing at the same time.
She didn’t go too far into the woods before she turned around. As she walked back, she began to hear the sound of an orchestra and choir singing through the trees—probably the music Sister Grant had mentioned. It sounded like the song of angels, pure and sweet. Andrea stopped to listen to the words. “When thru the woods and forest glades I wander,” the choir sang. “Then sings my soul, my Savior God, to thee, How great thou art!”* The words described exactly how Andrea felt—like her soul was singing. She felt happy! Except for one thing. She still hadn’t felt the Spirit.
Becky spied Andrea as soon as Andrea got back to the monument. “Come see the sunspot!” she said excitedly. Andrea didn’t know what Becky was talking about, but she let Becky pull her up the hill.
From the top of the granite pillar shone a dazzling light. Andrea put her hands up to shield her eyes.
“Isn’t it amazing?” Becky said. “Sister Grant says that it’s the sun shining off the top of the polished rock.”
“It’s beautiful,” Andrea said. She stood in awe for several minutes. She felt a little sad. “This would have been the perfect trip if only I had felt the Holy Ghost,” she thought.
Suddenly, like the light reflecting off the pillar, a thought shone into her soul. She had felt the Spirit! The Holy Ghost didn’t just make people cry. It also made them feel peaceful and happy, like she had felt in the forest! Andrea again felt the same bubble of joy growing inside. She then understood that Heavenly Father had answered her prayers.
As they drove away, Andrea kept her eyes on the granite monument until it disappeared behind the tops of the trees. She knew that the Lord had blessed her and given her the witness she desired.

An acquaintance of mine became seriously ill not long ago. I hurried up to the Veterans Hospital in Salt Lake City to see if I could attend to some of his needs. He’s got some problems. He’s not the most active member in the world. I’m sure you are familiar with such a member who may live near you.
He was surprised when I walked into the room. “Well, how did you know I was here?”
“Oh, the Lord has ways of sharing this kind of information.”
He had a blood condition that had caused his body great distress. It was very serious because of his age. He had tremendous pain in his ankles. He was eating dinner at the time I entered the hospital, so I sat on the edge of his bed and said, “Would it help if I massaged your legs for a minute?” So I massaged him. And I said, “Can I ask you a personal question? Did this sudden illness scare you a little? Does the bishop know you’re up here? Would you be offended if I told him? Would you like a special blessing?” He nodded yes. “Do you have faith?”
“No,” he responded.
“Do you have faith in me?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know what faith is?”
“No.”
So I sat on the bed and taught him. You know, I find that most people don’t know these things because they haven’t been taught; they don’t understand. I gave him a little 2-1/2-minute talk on faith. The first principles of the gospel are what? Faith, repentance, baptism, and the gift of the Holy Ghost. Now, if you back up and look at faith, it says what? In the Lord Jesus Christ. Sometimes we leave that out. So I taught him the principles. He hadn’t ever heard that before, and he was 62 and had been born and raised in the Church.
I had noticed, of course, when I first went in that there were four other men in the room. It was a ward shared by several men without any privacy. I noticed while I was teaching (although I didn’t make it a pronounced sermon as such; it was just between the two of us) that others were straining to hear. So as I stood up in preparation for going around to place my hands upon my friend’s head. I turned, as the Spirit prompted me to do so, and I said to the other men lying in their beds, “Gentlemen, may I have your attention please?” They all sat up in bed. I said, “Perhaps you have noticed I am here to visit my friend, who is ill like you. I’m his home teacher. We’re members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints—Mormons. I haven’t had a chance to get acquainted with you; I don’t know what your particular faith is, but we believe in assisting each other spiritually. I am here to attempt to do that tonight. I’m going to give this man a special blessing.” Then I taught briefly just what that was. I said, “I wouldn’t expect you to endorse it or reject it particularly, but would you mind being reverent for a moment as I perform this ordinance for my friend?” And they all just sat there. So I placed my hands upon his head, and blessed him. The Spirit touched both of us, and the tears came without shame from a man who, I guess, hadn’t been in church in 22 years. When I got all through, we embraced each other, and I said, “Now, can I ask you a personal question? Did I offend you?”
“Oh no, Brother Dunn,” he said, “this is one of the most sacred moments in my life. Thank you.” Then I turned to go out, and four other men wanted blessings, two of whom weren’t even members of the Church. Now, Latter-day Saints, you don’t have to be embarrassed at who you are or what you are. There’s a teaching moment awaiting every one of us as we share this most priceless gift which is ours. I pray God that we might catch something of that great vision and the importance of it.

I could hear my family gathering around the breakfast table. I was late again. I forced myself to go down the stairs and take my seat at the table. Of course everyone looked up when I came into the kitchen. My five-year-old brother announced in a loud voice, “Hey! You’re late, Karen!”
I sighed heavily, tried not to grimace, and I bent my head to my plate to eat my waffle. I wished I were somewhere else. I wanted to be part of the in-crowd at school—the bunch of girls and athletes that all school life seemed to revolve around. I especially wanted to be accepted by Amy James* and her friends. I felt tired of my family, and I was especially tired of Dad’s What-If jar.
Dad reached for his What-If jar that sat in the middle of the table and held it up where we could all see the folded slips of paper inside. On each slip was a question. The drill was that after the question was read, each family member told how he or she would react in such a situation. Yesterday’s question had been, “What if you are riding in a car, and your best friend is driving too fast?”
Dad held out the jar for Ben to choose the question of the day. I sighed again. Dad’s What-If questions seemed like predictable situations that would never really happen. I put down my fork and listened to my nine-year-old brother read the question he had drawn.
“What if you are in the bathroom at school, and someone you really want to be friends with asks you to smoke pot?” Ben read.
When Dad called on me to answer it, I thought about it and said, “No, thanks. I choose not to.”
“Don’t forget to smile,” Dad reminded me.
I smiled, but my face felt stiff.
I thought about the What-If question most of the way to school. I was still thinking about it when I entered the lunch room at noon. I looked around for my friends from seminary and set my stuff at their table.
My eyes slid over to the table where Amy James and her friends were clustered together, laughing and talking. These were the girls with the newest clothes who dated the coolest athletes in the school. I wished I were cool like them and could be a part of their group.
“Hey, Karen!” my friend Joanie said as she rapped her knuckles on the table in front of me. “Anybody home?”
“What?” I looked up to see my seminary friends looking at me.
“You’re not tuned in, Karen,” another friend, Spencer, said. “Worried about the calculus test?”
I shook my head and looked once more at Amy’s table, hoping she’d look at me and wave.
“Sorry guys,” I apologized, forcing myself to turn my attention to my friends. “I was thinking of something else.”
After lunch I had one free period to study before the calculus test. Before finding a quiet place to study, I stopped by the bathroom to check my hair. I pushed open the door and heard loud talking and laughing. A faint odor of smoke floated in the air. I stepped up to the nearest mirror and saw Amy James and her friends’ faces reflecting back at me. I wondered why they looked so uneasy when our eyes met. Immediately they stopped talking.
I noticed that Amy had a small marijuana cigarette between her lips. She focused her eyes on me and blew out smoke; then she held out the cigarette towards me.
Time sped like a tape measure closing together with a snap. All at once I understood what was happening. I was being offered a joint by these “cool” girls, the ones I thought I wanted to be friends with. I just stood there, frozen.
“C’mon, Karen,” invited Amy, pushing the joint closer to my face. “Have some.” Amy half-turned to the other girls. “Let’s ask Karen to our party Saturday night!”
Her friend Lisa nodded. “For sure, Karen. You’ll have a great time. My folks have promised not to be home.” The three girls laughed loudly, as if Lisa had said something hilarious.
I finger-combed my hair and carefully picked up my books. I turned to face the girls I had thought were so cool. For a minute a sour taste filled my mouth as I realized how dumb I had been. I couldn’t believe I had ever wanted to hang out with these girls. As I looked at the expectant grins on their faces, hoping to involve me in their smoking, I thought about my friends from seminary who had the same goals I wanted to have.
Then I remembered my answer to that morning’s What-If question. I smiled at Amy and her friends, just like Dad had told me, and then in a breezy, firm tone of voice I said, “No thanks. I choose not to.”
I carefully set one foot in front of the other and exited the bathroom. No one called me back. I stepped into the hall feeling lighter and better and smarter than I had felt in a long time.

I had never thought much about my testimony. I liked to go to church, and the gospel wasn’t hard to live, so I basically took it for granted the Church was true.
When I was almost 21, I decided to go on a mission. But in my interview with the stake president the conversation took an unanticipated turn.
“Lara, do you support the leaders of the Church?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“Do you know that Ezra Taft Benson is a true prophet of God?”
“I think so.”
“Do you know he is a prophet of God?” he asked again.
“I believe he is,” I responded, a little confused at the repetition of the question.
Then he said, “Belief is a beginning. But do you know that Ezra Taft Benson is a true prophet of God called to lead us in this day?”
This time I caught the wording. I could feel my face get hot. I felt helpless. Did this mean I couldn’t go on a mission? No. But he told me to be most effective on a mission, I needed a testimony of “I knows.”
I left the stake president’s office that day a little embarrassed, but determined to know that President Ezra Taft Benson is a true prophet of God, to know that the Book of Mormon is truly another testament of Jesus Christ, to know that Christ died for me. I would have to do the intense studying and praying that my stake president had done. And for the next three months I did.
By the time I entered the Missionary Training Center in Provo, Utah, I felt good saying “I know.” But it was in the MTC that I got my strongest witness that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God and that he did restore Christ’s church to the earth. That’s when I truly “knew,” and I was thrilled to be an “I know” missionary.

Brother Ayerdis currently serves as bishop of the Brooklyn Second Ward, where meetings are conducted in Spanish. He recalls the day when he took his family to see the judge who would grant them permanent residency in the United States: “Our children sat beside us on the long bench—quiet, like angels.” The judge thought that New York would corrupt the children and said to the family, “What a shame that you had to bring your lovely children here.” Sister Ayerdis responded, “We may have left our furniture, our house, and our clothes behind in our native land, but we did bring our traditions.”

Didiya sat on the bank of the rising river, looking down into the murky water. It was the rainy season in Kenya, Africa, and the eight-year-old girl waited and watched for the danger she knew would come—danger to the women who came to dip water into their earthen jars and danger to the cattle the herd boys brought here to drink.
The valley people passing saw her and said, “Ah, Didiya is watching today. She’ll let us know when the danger comes.”
Now, as Didiya bent forward, watching the water intently, she thought of her father and the days when they had watched the water together.
The girl’s thoughts were interrupted when a neighbor came by with a bowl of hot gruel. “Morning greeting, Didiya. I’ve brought you some food. You must be hungry, for you’ve been watching since daybreak.”
“Morning greeting, Auntie,” she said. “Yes, I am hungry. Thank you. I’ll let you know when the danger comes.”
“Yes, I know you will,” the neighbor said and returned to her home.
A sudden shadow moved swiftly below the water’s surface. Didiya leaned over to look more closely. A second shadow followed, then a third.
One shadow rose to the surface and a snout appeared, then a scaly head. The danger was here!
Didiya scrambled to her feet and ran shouting, “The crocodiles have come! The crocodiles have come!”
A woman had started toward the river, carrying an empty water jar on her head. “Stop!” a neighbor called. “The crocodiles have come.”
The woman, a newcomer in the valley, shouted back, “How do you know?”
“Didiya has warned us. She saw them in the stream,” the neighbor said. “They come every year when the water is high.”
“Who’s Didiya?” the newcomer asked, ignoring the warning and continuing on toward the river, but more slowly.
“She’s the girl who has been watching for the crocodiles since daybreak,” the neighbor said, walking toward the woman. “Didn’t you hear her shout a warning as she ran by us?”
The newcomer stopped now and put her water jar on the ground. “If I can’t dip water here, where can I fill my jar?”
“You’ll have to go up the valley to the nearest well.”
“But that’s a mile from here,” she objected. “How long will I have to carry water from there?”
“Until Didiya tells us that the crocodiles have gone. They won’t stay after the water goes down,” the neighbor explained.
“Why does Didiya watch for the crocodiles?” the woman asked.
“Her father began watching years ago, after crocodiles had dragged most of his cattle into the water. He didn’t want to lose any more cattle, and he wanted to protect his neighbors’ herds too. When Didiya was big enough, she sat with him to watch. Two years ago he went to Lagos, Nigeria, to find work, hoping to save enough money to come home and buy more cattle. When her father left, Didiya took over the job of watching for the crocodiles.”
While the women talked, Didiya ran upstream as far as the district school, calling out the danger to the valley people. At the school she asked the teacher to tell the pupils.
“You’re a good girl to watch every year and warn us,” he said. “Don’t you want to come to school? You’re old enough now.”
“Oh, I’d love to! But who would watch for the crocodiles?” she asked. “Besides, Grandfather doesn’t have the money to pay the school fee and buy a school uniform for me.”
“Your father wants you to go to school,” the teacher said. “He talked to me about it before he left, and he has been sending me a little money toward your schooling every month. It isn’t enough yet, but maybe we can think of some way for you to come to school.”
Didiya smiled her appreciation, then turned and ran toward the more distant pastures, shouting her warning, “The crocodiles have come!”
“Morning greeting, Didiya,” the herders called. “You’re a good girl to warn us.”
When the people of her part of the valley had been warned, Didiya sat down under a baobab tree to rest. Now there was time to think about what the teacher had said. She looked down at her bead-trimmed dress and thought with longing of the uniforms the girls at school wore, the lovely blue jumpers and white blouses. With pockets!
Because she was tired and felt so comfortable between two high roots of the tree, Didiya fell asleep. Later the sound of rain falling on the tree’s leaves awakened her. She looked up into the branches, thinking about this curious tree with wrinkled bark that looked like the skin of an old elephant and its branches that looked like roots sticking up in the air.
Suddenly she heard shouts coming from the direction of the watering place. A herd boy from another part of the valley had brought his cattle to drink there, and his biggest, strongest steer had waded out into the stream and had started to drink. A crocodile had grabbed the steer by the mouth and nose and tried to pull it into the water. But the steer had pulled harder than the crocodile, which was now slowly being pulled onto the shore.
People came with heavy sticks and hit the crocodile, but their blows didn’t hurt its scale-covered back. However, the dry land was not as pleasing to the reptile as the water, so it released its hold on the steer and crawled back into the river. The steer shook his head and bellowed with pain. Gathering his thirsty cattle together, the herd boy drove them farther up the valley to water at a shallow, safe place.
The day after the crocodiles appeared, all the pupils at the school were asked to gather on the playground. They brought their mats, which they had made of yellow grass in the handwork class, and sat on the ground. After a prayer, the teacher read to them the Apostle Paul’s words about bearing one another’s burdens. Then he said, “I chose these words because of Didiya, who warns us every year of the crocodiles. She, and her father before her, have borne a burden for us when they have watched the river for danger and have warned us. Nobody told them to do it, and nobody pays them for their efforts. Who can say how many cattle have been saved or what injuries our people have been spared by heeding their warnings?
“Yesterday I asked Didiya if she would like to come to school. She said, ‘But who would warn the people of the crocodiles?’ I told her that a plan could be worked out for that. Then she said that her grandfather couldn’t pay her school fee or buy her a uniform.
“Didiya’s father has sent me some money toward her school expenses, but it isn’t enough. It seems to me that we’ve let Didiya bear our burden long enough and that it’s time for us to bear hers. Two things have come to my mind: One is that we work out a plan for taking turns watching the river during the rainy seasons. The other is that we give the people of the valley a chance to repay Didiya by contributing enough money so that she can come to school. Will you talk this over with your families and neighbors, and let me know how they feel?”
The villagers enthusiastically agreed to the teacher’s plan. Soon there was enough money to pay the rest of the school fee and to buy the uniform. Didiya went to the valley store and bought the blue and white fabrics. Then she took them to the tailor, who sat at his sewing machine on the store porch.
“Don’t forget the pockets,” she said to the tailor.
“You don’t need to tell me how to do my work,” the tailor said teasingly. “I’ve been making uniforms ever since the school started. I’d never forget the pockets!”
The next time the school drum sounded from up the valley, Didiya was ready, dressed in her new uniform. For her lunch she carried a boiled sweet potato wrapped in a banana leaf in one pocket. In another pocket she had a small wooden deer that her grandfather had carved as a present for the teacher. The happy girl beamed as all along the way her friends called out, “Morning greeting, Didiya.”

You may never have heard the name Arthur Henry Rostron, but on a dark night in icy waters he looked beyond his comfort zone where others had already refused to go and saved hundreds of lives that were without hope. On the night the Titanic hit the iceberg, there were three ships in the area that learned about the disaster. The two closest ships did not respond, but Captain Rostron, whose ship was 58 nautical miles (107 km) away and traveling in the opposite direction, responded to the pleas for help over the radio.

He knew the danger of the icy waters and did not hesitate, but exercised faith and prayed to God for direction. He issued this order to the crew: “Turn the ship around.” It would take them about 3.5 hours to reach the Titanic. During that time, Captain Rostron commanded his ship to proceed at full speed while he posted extra lookouts to maneuver through the ice. En route he had the crew prepare the ship with food, blankets, and medical supplies that would be needed at arrival. Those on board his passenger liner observed the captain often raising his hand to his cap and closing his eyes in prayer. His risky decision to go to the rescue ultimately saved more than 700 lives. Of this experience, Captain Rostron said, “I can only conclude another hand than mine was on the helm.”

Many miracles paved the way for Raymond Knight’s journey to the house of the Lord.
The first was his baptism in Alice Springs on 1 July 2017, at age 74. Elder Joel Barfuss, of the Australia Adelaide Mission recalls, “We were walking to an appointment and saw Ray walking down another road, so we decided to turn down the road just to talk to him. . . . He came to Church that Sunday and the rest was history.”
The second miracle came through family history. In the years after his baptism, senior missionary couples, Elder and Sister Clark, and later, Elder and Sister Gamble helped Ray to discover his family history.
Elder Scott Gamble helped Ray identify his father through the BillionGraves cemetery index.
“Ray is legendary with the young missionaries in Alice Springs,” says Sister Diane Gamble. “They all know and love him. He loves to share life stories about how his grandmother taught him to knit when he was nine years old, how his daughter in the Philippines asked him to bring her a kangaroo, and about how he knitted a jumper for Johnny Cash, the famous western singer.”
The third miracle involved a series of events that allowed Ray to travel 1,532.8 kilometers to attend the temple for the first time.
Cancer required the removal of Ray’s stomach, but while recovering from massive surgery, the Gambles taught him temple preparation lessons, which he continued after leaving the hospital.
Branch President Schwalger granted permission for the missionaries to resume Ray’s lessons over the phone and at his home. The Gambles used skeins of yarn and other props to review principles like the plan of salvation.
Ray eventually received his temple recommend, and with aid from the General Temple Patron Assistance Fund he prepared to receive his endowment.
Two weeks before his scheduled temple date, the Gambles received a call from Ray. Sister Gamble recalls, “He was in the hospital and told us he just wanted to die. We found him in the emergency department having a vial of potassium administered intravenously, which is apparently quite painful. Elder Gamble gave him a blessing, which helped him tolerate the procedure.”
Once Ray was cleared for travel, the long-awaited moment finally arrived. Ray and the missionary couple set out on 30 January 2024, and the group walked into the temple the following day.
At 81 years old now, Ray was able to participate in proxy baptisms and confirmations for his male ancestors. Then he used his Melchizedek Priesthood authority, for the first time, to perform proxy confirmations on Sister Gamble for his female ancestors. “I was moved to tears when Ray placed his hands on my head,” says Sister Gamble.
The fourth miracle was found in the power of prayer.
Ray wasn’t feeling well on the day Elder Gamble picked him up for his own endowment. His medication was making him dizzy and weak in the knees. They had to stop and rest several times between the hotel room and the car.
After a fervent prayer for Ray’s health and ability to proceed with his journey, Ray got out of the car and walked into the temple to receive his endowment. He had no further issues that day.
With additional support from senior missionary couples, the Felts and the Carrs, and President and Sister Kuhn from the mission presidency, Ray was able to perform proxy endowments for his ancestors. Elder Gamble described evidence of the Spirit in the celestial room later, where he saw tears rolling down Ray’s cheeks. “This is the first time I’ve felt a closeness to the Lord in such a profound way,” Ray explained. “I am in wonderment of His rich blessings.”
His ability to participate in all the planned sessions of his temple trip depended on how Ray felt, but on the days he didn’t attend, Sister Gamble says, everyone at the temple asked where Ray was. “It was like they were inquiring about a long-lost friend.”
Some days, Ray relied on the power of prayer to keep going. “On Saturday morning, [he] was feeling sick again,” Sister Gamble reports. “We said a prayer with Ray in the car and again he perked up almost immediately and was able to move forward with sealings.”
Referencing President Russell M. Nelson’s invitation to think celestial, the sealer said, “doing sealings is just about as close to thinking celestial as one can get in this life.”
Ray was sealed first to his parents, and then his mother was sealed to the grandparents who raised him. In total, 96 family ordinances were performed throughout the week. The group had many tender mercies and felt very close to the Spirit.
“I can’t even begin to tell you how idyllic it was for me to be introduced to the temple for the first time,” Ray said. “It was a joy unimaginable. I’m so looking forward to many more such visits… If only the same joy could be felt in absolutely every other location throughout the world and every single person could focus on the exquisite experience and peace of our Heavenly Father’s presence, there could not be any room for the hurt and devastating destruction that we learn about so constantly in our world.”