Gospel Story Finder

The privilege of serving the Lord on a mission is felt and demonstrated in many ways. A tall basketball player who played for a major college in Ohio, was not a member of the Church until he graduated from college. He said that while working in Chicago he was “touched on the shoulder” by a presence, turned around, and met someone who introduced him to the gospel. His memory of this experience was still vivid, and his words became less clear as he wept while telling about it. But they were very clear when he spoke of how great a privilege it was to serve the Savior even though he had left an excellent job and promising career.

When I was a graduate student, I had some trouble balancing my spiritual life and my scholarly life. Most of the other graduate students didn’t have children and Church callings. I felt like a juggler who was about to drop all of the balls he was trying to keep in the air. To make ends meet, we sometimes took care of the children of people with money while they flew to the Caribbean to escape the bleak Wisconsin winter. After we would get their and our children to bed, I would do my physics homework at the kitchen table. One night after working for hours on a particularly difficult assignment, I knelt on the kitchen floor to ask the Lord for some help and encouragement. I also asked for some kind of a testimony boost. The answer I got surprised me a little. It went something like this: “I have given you a testimony, and you have made covenants. This should be enough for now. Just hang on, and the blessings will come.”

And the blessings have come. I have been molded and shaped by the things I have learned in the Church over the years and by the service I have given in the callings I have received.

Come with me for a moment to the small island of Lifuka in the South Pacific. The time is 1956. I was serving as a young missionary in Tonga and had recently been appointed district president of the Ha’apai District, with headquarters in Pangai on this island of Lifuka. The district covered seventeen islands. Because our only means of transportation was by sailboat, I needed some experienced, sea-worthy counselors. As always, the Lord provided, and two fine local men were chosen as counselors.

I will mention just one at this point. His name was Brother Vea. He had a beautifully kept thatched home, a lovely, clean yard, and a beautiful family. He had a nice garden to provide food for him and his family, and in addition he grew a lot of peanuts. To earn money he was a peanut vendor, and most evenings one would see him out with his cart, selling peanuts and a few other items his wife had made. The best days and evenings for business were when there were shows or rugby games or fairs or other forms of entertainment in town.

I don’t know how many times we would have presidency meetings on the night of a big dance or social, but never was I aware of his saying, “I can’t come tonight,” even though selling peanuts was his main source of income.

Very often our schedule called for us to go to another island for a conference or for tracting or some other Church business which would take us away from Pangai right during a main rugby match or other large gathering. But never once did I hear Brother Vea complain or suggest we change our schedule. He was committed to serving to the best of his ability in the position to which he was called. He chose to invest in obedience and in service to others—often at the seeming expense of some worldly gain.

Now, let’s follow that particular investment through. About fifteen years later, as a Regional Representative, I was given a special assignment to the South Pacific. I had the responsibility of holding some meetings in California and then moving on to Honolulu and to the islands farther south. We had two meetings scheduled in California—one in the evening and one the next morning—involving a few stake presidents there. As we went through the agenda that evening, I found myself feeling that we ought to finish all our business that night and not stay on the next morning. Partway through the agenda I announced that we would do so, and, of course, the presidents asked, “Why?”

I said, “I don’t really know why, but that’s the way it’s going to be.” (Most stake presidents are pretty submissive when someone else is in charge.) We completed the entire agenda that evening, even though it was late. Then I began to wonder why myself.

I didn’t have a reservation out the next day until the early afternoon because we had originally scheduled to meet until noon. I wondered, “What am I going to do with these extra several hours I have?”

I got up early the next morning and, as all of you would do, prayed fervently to know if there was something I ought to do. I didn’t have any especially strong feelings, but I thought, “Well, I’d better check.” So I called the airport and said, “I have a reservation on this particular plane. Do you have anything leaving before then?”

The man said, “Well, we have one leaving in forty-five minutes. Where are you?”

I said, “I’m here at the hotel.”

He said, “Oh, you’ll never be able to make it.”

I asked, “Do you have space?”

He said, “Yes.”

I said, “Let me give it a try.” So I quickly gathered up everything, threw it in the suitcase, and charged off to the airport. As it turned out, I went straight to the gate and was the last person on the plane, but I did get on.

I arrived in Honolulu four or five hours later, and then I thought, “Well, now you’ve really blown it.” The meetings I had were in Laie, and here I was in Honolulu with no one to pick me up for many hours. What should I do now?

In just a few minutes I ran into a young man whom I had known in the mission field. He asked, “What are you doing right now?”

I said, “I’m just sort of waiting around.”

He replied, “I’m on my way up to the hospital. Did you hear that the other night Brother Vea was flown in from Tonga? He has some kind of disease, and he is over at the Queen’s Hospital. I was just going to visit him. If you have a few moments, would you like to come?”

I said, “Sure.”

Together we went to the hospital to visit Brother Vea. (This was the same man who had served as the very faithful and helpful counselor to me when I was district president those many years before.)

When we got to the hospital, the nurse wouldn’t let us in. She said, “He is in very serious condition, and only family members can visit him.”

I knew that I had to get in. This was the first time I began to feel for sure that this was what I ought to be doing. I said to the nurse, “Look, I’ve come several thousand miles to visit him. He asked me to come and visit him. Would you let me in?” I showed her my ticket.

She said, “If you have gone to all that effort, I guess I will let you see him.”

We went in. He was writhing in pain. His whole body was yellow with a very jaundiced condition because of a serious kidney problem. His eyes were closed. One could tell he was really hurting.

I went over to him and said, “Brother Vea, I’ve come to visit you.”

He suddenly stopped writhing and opened his eyes. They were about as yellow as anything I had ever seen. Then he said, “Oh, thank you for coming. I knew that you were scheduled for a conference in Tonga, and I knew that the only way to get there was by coming through Honolulu.” He then proceeded, “All last night I prayed as fervently as I could that some way or another you would come and visit me. As you know, I don’t have much family here. I don’t have a bishop here. I don’t have home teachers here. I don’t have many friends here. I really need a blessing. I’m in a bad way. Would you please bless me?”

We administered to him. As I began to seal the anointing, I thought that everything would be just fine. With his kind of faith, how could it be otherwise? But, as is so often the case, that wasn’t what the Lord had in mind.

I won’t go into detail, but basically I had the opportunity of telling him what the Lord had in mind for him, of actually specifying what he would be doing in just a short period of time. I was able to tell him that very shortly he would be performing a certain service on the other side that was badly needed. In a way it was a shock to me, but the Spirit was so strong there was no question as to the Lord’s will. When we concluded, he looked up at me and simply said, “Thank you, thank you very much. I really wanted to live here, but more than that I want to do my Heavenly Father’s will. I appreciate knowing what it is.”

We left. Hours before the plane I was originally scheduled to come on even arrived, Brother Vea was transferred from this sphere of existence to his next assignment, and he went with a great peace and calm in his heart. What a return on investment!

I wrote to my wife about the experience. I remember receiving a letter from her saying, “The folks dropped in tonight, and I shared the letter about Brother Vea with them. I told them I had been thinking that we so often try to figure out why things happen when and how they do and analyze and give reasons—the ins and outs of pressures and politics, and so forth, in the busy schedules and assignments of the Brethren. At the time all seemed to be playing their roles in determining when you needed to hurry and get away on this trip. And yet, with all due respect to the Brethren and their heavy responsibilities, I guess the Lord even uses such things to get His real purposes accomplished. A humble, faithful servant, unknown to most of the world, or to the Church for that matter, needed a blessing and a confirmation and calling from his Father, and our Father saw that he received it when the time was right.”

A fifteen-year investment paid off in a quiet, yet stunningly impressive way. And his service paid dividends of joy all through those years and will continue to pay increasing dividends throughout all eternity.

They called the Prophet “Brother Joseph,” and he always had a smile for them. Once a group of children were playing in a home where the Prophet was hiding from wicked men who wanted to kill him. They overheard the older people tell of the Prophet’s danger, and one seven-year-old girl said, “I know what we can do. We can pray and ask our Father in heaven to keep Brother Joseph safe from harm.”
A few minutes later the Prophet went past a bedroom door in time to see the children kneeling together and to hear their simple prayer for his safety. Tears filled his eyes and then rolled down his cheeks. As the children rose from their knees, one of them said, “Now I know Brother Joseph will be safe.”
Then the Prophet returned to the room where his older friends had come to guard him through the night. He told them that they could go to their own homes, for he knew that prayers of children are heard and answered and that he could sleep in peace that night. And he did!

There will be times in your service when you won’t have the remarkable and visible success of that young elders quorum president. That is the time when you will need to be confident that the Lord, knowing you would do your part in the work, called you through His authorized servants. Having faith in the call from the Lord’s servants was crucial in the missionary service of my great-grandfather Henry Eyring.

He was baptized on March 11, 1855, in St. Louis, Missouri. Erastus Snow ordained him to the office of a priest shortly thereafter. The president of the St. Louis Stake, John H. Hart, called him to serve a mission to the Cherokee Nation on October 6. He was ordained an elder on October 11. He left on horseback for the Cherokee Mission on October 24. He was 20 years old and a convert of only seven months.

If any priesthood holder had a reason to feel unqualified or unprepared, it was Henry Eyring. The only reason he could have had the courage to go was that he knew in his heart that God had called him through His authorized servants. It was the source of his courage. That must be the source of our courage to persevere, whatever our callings in the priesthood.

After Elder Eyring had served for three difficult years and upon the death of the mission president, Henry was nominated and sustained as president of the mission in a meeting held on October 6, 1858. He was surprised and as shocked as a new deacon would be. He wrote, “It was quite unexpected to me to be called to that responsible office but as it was the will of the brethren I cheerfully accepted, feeling at the same time my great weakness and lack of experience.”

The now-President Eyring traveled to the Cherokee, Creek, and Choctaw Nations in 1859. Through his efforts, the Lord “added,” as Henry recorded, “a number to the church.” He organized two branches but noted that “very few are alive in the cause.”

A year later, Henry was faced with the difficult reality that the political leaders among the people he was serving no longer permitted the Latter-day Saint missionaries to do their work. As he pondered what he should do, he recalled the instruction from his previous mission president indicating that he should prolong his mission until 1859.

In October of that year, Henry wrote to President Brigham Young for direction, but he did not receive a reply to his question. Henry recorded, “Not being able to hear anything from the Presidency of the Church, I called upon the Lord in prayer, asking him to reveal to me his mind and will in regard to my remaining longer or going up to Zion.”

He continued: “The following dream was given to me in answer to my prayer. I dreamt I had arrived in [Salt Lake] City and immediately went to [President Brigham] Young’s office, where I found him. I said to him: ‘[President] Young I have left my mission, have come of my own accord, but if there is anything wrong in this, I am willing to return and finish my mission.’ [In the dream the prophet] replied: ‘You have stayed long enough, it is all right.’”

Henry wrote in his journal, “Having had dreams before which were literally fulfilled I had faith to believe, that this also would be and consequently commenced at once to prepare for a start.”

He arrived in Salt Lake City on August 29, 1860, having walked most of the way. Two days later, he walked into the office of President Brigham Young.

Henry described the experience in these words: “[I] called upon [President] Young, who received [me] very kindly. I said to him, ‘[President] Young I have come without being sent for, if I have done wrong, I am willing to return and finish my mission.’ [Brigham Young] answered: ‘It is all right, we have been looking for you.’”

Henry described his joy, saying, “Thus my dream was literally fulfilled.”

Let me remind you of a sad example recorded in Doctrine and Covenants sections 39 and 40. James Covel, who had been a minister for about 40 years, had learned of the restored gospel and had covenanted with the Lord that he would obey any command the Lord would give to him through Joseph the Prophet. On January 5, 1831 in Fayette, New York, Joseph Smith received a revelation for James Covel. Through His prophet, the Lord stated that James had rejected Him many times because of the cares of the world but said James’ heart was now right. He said that James should be baptized, and if he did so the Lord had a great work for him to do in building up the Church and specifically said that James was called to go to the Ohio. [27]

The very next day, the Prophet Joseph received another revelation concerning James Covel. Section 40 has only three verses. Those short verses describe that James “received the word with gladness, but straightway Satan tempted him; and the fear of persecution and the cares of the world caused him to reject the word.” [28] Notice how quickly Satan came to tempt James? “Wherefore,” the Lord said, “he broke my covenant, and it remaineth with me to do with him as seemeth me good.” [29] Notice also who broke the covenant. It will never be the Lord. In the heading of the next section, section 41, we see that a month later Joseph Smith is in Ohio, where James was called to go. The work is moving forward, but without James Covel.

Thirty years ago, while my wife and I were preparing for our civil marriage and our temple marriage, we received a call informing us that civil marriages were canceled due to a strike. We received the call three days before the scheduled ceremony. After several attempts at other offices and not finding available appointments, we began to feel distressed and doubtful that we really could get married as planned.

My fiancée and I “called,” pouring out our souls to God in prayer. Finally, someone told us about an office in a small town on the outskirts of the city where an acquaintance was the mayor. Without hesitation, we went to visit him and asked him if it would be possible to marry us. To our joy, he agreed. His secretary emphasized to us that we had to obtain a certificate in that city and deliver all the documents before noon the next day.

The next day, we moved to the small town and went to the police station to request the required document. To our surprise, the officer said that he would not give it to us because many young couples had been running away from their families to get married secretly in that town, which of course was not our case. Again, fear and sadness overtook us.

I remember how I silently called out to my Heavenly Father so as not to fall. I received a clear impression in my mind, repeatedly saying, “Temple recommend, temple recommend.” I immediately took out my temple recommend and handed it to the officer, to my fiancée’s bewilderment.

What a surprise we had when we heard the officer say, “Why didn’t you tell me that you are from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints? I know your church well.” He immediately began to prepare the document. We were even more surprised when the officer left the station without saying anything.

Fifty minutes passed, and he did not return. It was already 11:55 in the morning, and we had only until noon to deliver the papers. Suddenly he appeared with a beautiful puppy and told us it was a wedding gift and gave it to us along with the document.

We ran toward the mayor’s office with our document and our new dog. Then we saw an official vehicle coming toward us. I stopped in front of it. The vehicle stopped, and we saw the secretary inside. Seeing us, she said, “I’m sorry; I told you noon. I must go on another errand.”

I humbled myself in silence, calling with all my heart to my Heavenly Father, asking for help once again to “not fall.” Suddenly, the miracle happened. The secretary said to us, “What a beautiful dog you have. Where could I find one like that for my son?”

“It is for you,” we immediately replied.

The secretary looked at us with surprise and said, “OK, let’s go to the office and make the arrangements.”

Two days later, Carol and I were married civilly, as planned, and then we were sealed in the Lima Peru Temple.

Annette Aagard was in the middle of a bad week. She felt overwhelmed. She did not need one more thing to do. Then why was she rushing off to become—of all things—a volunteer?
A couple of months earlier it had seemed like a good idea. She had signed up to donate a few hours each week to Great Oaks Village, a residential school for abused children in Orlando, Florida. She had been through orientation to assist girls between the ages of six and twelve. And now she faced her first assignment—all alone.
As soon as she walked into the dorm at Great Oaks, she heard someone say, “Hey, the new volunteer’s here!” Several anxious, wide-eyed little girls ran up to her and asked, “Are you our new volunteer?” And someone said, “Better be good or she won’t talk to you!”
By the end of that first evening in March of 1989, Annette knew why she had rushed off to become a volunteer. She learned that the word volunteer is like magic to these youngsters. It means that for a little while, someone has come to be family; someone has come to give love.
Annette loves to be a “big sister” to the little girls. She loves to walk and talk with them. “I not only learn from the things they say, but from the quick and easy way they trust, accept, and believe,” she says.
She tells about one particular evening. It was very quiet—most of the girls were restricted to their dorm rooms. So she took one little girl, Stosha, outside. It had just rained and the air was clean and quiet. They rode bikes for a little while and later went to the playground.
Annette explains, “Stosha is small and energetic and talkative. She loves the monkey bars. She would go across the bars and then expect me to follow her, which I had a hard time doing! I asked Stosha if she was going to try and skip every other bar the next time. She said, ‘Nope, I’m not going to try, I’m going to do it!’ This incident reminded me of President Spencer W. Kimball’s motto, ‘Do it!’ Sometimes we find excuses and whine and say ‘if … , but … , maybe … ,’ when we just need to believe in ourselves and do it.”

Marian Wright Edelman told the story of Jean Thompson, who was a teacher:

On the first day of school, Jean Thompson told her students, “Boys and girls, I love you all the same.” Teachers lie. Little Teddy Stollard was a boy Jean Thompson did not like. He slouched in his chair, didn’t pay attention, his mouth hung open in a stupor, his eyes were always unfocused, his clothes were mussed, his hair unkempt, and he smelled. He was an unattractive boy and Jean Thompson didn’t like him.

Teachers have records. And Jean Thompson had Teddy’s. First grade: “Teddy’s a good boy. He shows promise in his work and attitude. But he has a poor home situation.” Second grade: “Teddy is a good boy. He does what he is told. But he is too serious. His mother is terminally ill.” Third grade: “Teddy is falling behind in his work; he needs help. His mother died this year. His father shows no interest.” Fourth grade: “Teddy is in deep waters; he is in need of psychiatric help. He is totally withdrawn.”

Christmas came, and the boys and girls brought their presents and piled them on her desk. They were all in brightly colored paper except for Teddy’s. His was wrapped in brown paper and held together with scotch tape. And on it, scribbled in crayon, were the words, “For Miss Thompson from Teddy.” She tore open the brown paper and out fell a rhinestone bracelet with most of the stones missing and a bottle of cheap perfume that was almost empty. When the other boys and girls began to giggle she had enough sense to put some of the perfume on her wrist, put on the bracelet, hold her wrist up to the children and say, “Doesn’t it smell lovely? Isn’t the bracelet pretty?” And taking their cue from the teacher, they all agreed.

At the end of the day, when all the children had left, Teddy lingered, came over to her desk and said, “Miss Thompson, all day long, you smelled just like my mother. And her bracelet, that’s her bracelet, it looks real nice on you, too. I’m really glad you like my presents.” And when he left, she got down on her knees and buried her head in her chair and she begged God to forgive her.

The next day when the children came, she was a different teacher. She was a teacher with a heart. And she cared for all the children, but especially those who needed help. Especially Teddy. She tutored him and put herself out for him.

By the end of the year, Teddy had caught up with a lot of the children and was even ahead of some. Several years later, Jean Thompson got this note:

Dear Miss Thompson:
I’m graduating and I’m second in my high school class. I wanted you to be the first to know. Love, Teddy.

Four years later she got another note:

Dear Miss Thompson:
I wanted you to be the first to know. The university has not been easy, but I like it. Love, Teddy Stollard.

Four years later, there was another note:

Dear Miss Thompson:
As of today, I am Theodore J. Stollard, M.D. How about that? I wanted you to be the first to know. I’m going to be married in July. I want you to come and sit where my mother would have sat, because you’re the only family I have. Dad died last year.

And she went and she sat where his mother should have sat because she deserved to be there.

November 4, 2011, changed my life. I was a senior in high school and was playing my last regular season football game. During a punt-return play late in the fourth quarter, I went to tackle a player on the other team and was knocked unconscious when his shoulder pad hit my face.
I woke up briefly minutes later only to slip back into unconsciousness almost immediately. It was clear, however, that my body was paralyzed. As paramedics prepared to take me to the hospital, my mom wanted to make sure my dad gave me a priesthood blessing. So he found the dad of another Latter-day Saint player and they gave me a blessing in the back of the ambulance.
Later that evening, I regained consciousness and slowly began to gain feeling in my body. When that happened, the hospital staff sent me home and told me nothing was wrong. However, my parents and I felt that there was still a problem, so I went to see a specialist.
After looking at my injuries, the specialist said, “I don’t know how you walked into my office today. You shouldn’t be able to move or even breathe on your own because of the severe problems in your spinal cord. Someone has been watching over you.” He told me how surprised he was that I was even alive and that I wasn’t paralyzed. I knew it was because of the priesthood blessing, and I was grateful my dad and my teammate’s father were both worthy and prepared to administer the blessing.
My recovery was still painful. I continued to see the specialist and began physical therapy. I struggled with severe pain and fatigue and was unable to attend school—I couldn’t even sit up by myself for three months.
The only thing that kept me going was the Spirit. As someone who’d been very social, it was hard to be home by myself all day while Mom and Dad were at work. I found comfort through the Spirit and through prayer and scripture study. The gospel kept me going. And I knew the priesthood blessing and the prayers of my friends (both Church members and friends of other faiths) helped.
After a few months, I felt strongly that I needed to return to seminary. And even though my medication made it extremely hard to get out of bed, I was determined to go. At first, seminary took all my energy for the day. But once I started going, my recovery time seemed to decrease, and I began to heal more quickly and to feel better. This was a miracle to my family and me.
Two years later, I can now run, jump, and move around with little pain.
I know that Heavenly Father, Jesus Christ, and angels were watching over me the night of the accident. I’ve felt the power of the priesthood so strongly because I received a blessing from worthy priesthood holders. That, combined with the pattern of personal prayer, scripture study, and seminary attendance I’d established before the accident and have continued after, helped me through the healing process.

Sandra
Photograph by Cindy Smith
Like many young women in Uganda, Sandra walks more than a mile to church, helps clean the meetinghouse on Fridays, and attends seminary on Saturdays. During the week, she rises before 5:00 a.m. to read schoolbooks, and then she walks to school, returning home after 6:00 p.m. She missed a year of school because of financial difficulties but faces her challenges with a positive attitude: “The gospel has really helped me to stay steadfast and immovable.”
Sandra is the only Church member in her home, but her parents support her Church service, such as helping when the ward cleaned the grounds of a local orphanage. Her family sees how the gospel has helped her be strong, even when facing unresolved problems. Reflecting on the source of that strength, Sandra says, “When I go to church, I feel like I am putting on the armor of God” (see Ephesians 6:11–17).
A more recent convert, Susan, loves the Church. Originally from South Sudan, her family fled hardships and was blessed to receive the missionaries in Uganda. As a refugee, she found peace and protection in the gospel. On Sundays she would bring her younger siblings to church, as well as up to 10 other children who are not Church members. After the unexpected death of a family member, she returned to South Sudan, where she waits for the Church to be established in her area. Both Susan and Sandra face challenges, but they rely on God and enjoy the fruits of living the gospel of Jesus Christ (see Alma 32:6–8, 43).

One Monday in November I was helping my dad change the oil in the car when the Blanchards drove off, then came back so quickly that I couldn’t figure out where they could have gone.
“Where’d you go last night?” I asked Ben the next morning.
He got a funny look on his face. “Oh, somewhere,” he answered.
I couldn’t believe it. Ben always told me where they went! “What is this, some kind of secret mission?”
Ben half-laughed, half-choked, “Sort of.” He looked behind him and then leaned toward me and whispered, “Becky made me promise not to tell anyone.”
I spent the next week trying to puzzle out what the Blanchards could have done that Becky wouldn’t want anyone to know about. Had they discovered gold or silver? Were they rehearsing a circus act? Or maybe they were plotting to take over the world!
The next Monday the Blanchards stayed home. I was outside with Dad again, helping him replace the porch light. We were nearly done when a car came up the street. I was instantly alert because we live on a dead-end street, and we hardly ever get strange cars on it. Even more mysterious, this car was creeping along at a snail’s pace. As soon as the car passed our driveway, its headlights blinked off. But the car kept on going and stopped just beyond the Blanchard’s house.
I nudged Dad. “Something fishy’s going on here,” I whispered.
We tiptoed to the hedge that divides our property from the Blanchards’ and watched. A figure got out of the car and crept up the driveway to the Blanchard’s porch. He—or she or it—placed something by their door, pressed the doorbell, and scooted down the driveway.
Dad squeezed through the hedge and grabbed the skulker’s jacket. “What are you doing?” he asked.
I squeezed through the hedge, too, and ran up to the door while Dad marched the boy—we could tell that much now—up the driveway behind me.
By the time Dad got to the door, Ben and the rest of his family were crowding around the door, wide-eyed.
“Do you know this boy?” Dad asked.
“It’s Frank Adams,” Mr. Blanchard told us.
Frank was absolutely crimson. He bent down and picked up a plate of cookies. On top of the cookies was a ghost shape cut out of paper. “I just left these,” he explained weakly.
The Blanchards all whooped with laughter. “He was phantoming us!”
“Huh?” Dad and I stared at each other.
“Can I go?” Frank looked desperately at Dad. “Mom’s in the car and probably thinks I’ve been kidnapped.”
Dad let go of Frank’s jacket. “Sorry. I was just trying to watch out for my neighbors,” he said, shaking his head as Frank rushed down the driveway.
I was dying of curiosity. “What was he doing?”
Becky sighed. “Different families in our ward—our church congregation—have been going around on Mondays and secretly leaving treats on other people’s door-steps. We say that the Family Night Phantom left them.”
Dad and I stared at each other again and raised our eyebrows.
“Better cookies than vandalism,” Dad finally said with a shrug.
“I bet that’s what you were doing last week. Right?” I asked Ben.
He nodded, embarrassed.

As the time for me to serve a mission approached, I decided I needed to know for myself whether or not the Church was true.
During this time, I had many discussions about religion with a close friend. Woody is an atheist and is very good at expressing his views in a logical and reasonable way. He is an intelligent person and someone I look up to, so I value and respect his opinions.
Before I met Woody, I thought I had a strong testimony, but soon I wasn’t so sure. Woody’s views of atheism sounded more and more reasonable to me. Fortunately, something in the back of my mind wouldn’t let me give myself completely over to Woody’s way of thinking.
Finally, one night just before my 19th birthday, after a lot of thought and prayer, I knelt down and asked Heavenly Father if the Church was true. I didn’t seem to receive an answer. I started wondering how I was really supposed to know. I had always been taught that the answers to our questions can be found in the scriptures, so I looked up the word know in the Topical Guide. I turned to Alma 5:46, where Alma explains that before he found the truth he had to fast and pray for many days—and he was a prophet of God! I read more and found that fasting and praying weren’t sufficient; I also needed to live in a way that would allow me to feel the Spirit.
Fast Sunday came, and I decided to fast for the ability to recognize the Spirit’s promptings. In fast and testimony meeting, I received my answer. As I listened to the testimonies, a feeling flowed over my body and filled my soul with joy. I knew I had received my answer that the Church was true.
When I got home, I went to my room, sat down on my bed, and thought to myself, It is true! I really got an answer. I received the same feeling again, a confirmation from the Holy Ghost. I knew the gospel was true! I never wanted that feeling to go away.
From that day, I knew Heavenly Father answers prayers. I also knew He wanted me to serve a mission so I could share my knowledge and testimony of Jesus Christ with others.

I first discovered the Liahona when I joined the Church several years ago. In the beginning I didn’t think much of it, but as time went by it became one of the most wonderful things in my life and a key to my success. It strengthened my testimony of the restored gospel and helped me stay strong in the Church. Because of this strength, I was able to resist temptations and set a good example for a co-worker, who was eventually baptized and confirmed.
It is so wonderful to study and share the Liahona. It will help me for the rest of my life. I’m so thankful to receive the messages from the Lord’s prophet and apostles every month. The Liahona is sweeter to me than honey and more valuable than gold.
Aldemir Guanacoma Ave, Bolivia

Carly pretended to study her long division, but her mind was on Sara. What do you do for a friend whose mother had died?
Carly and Sara had been best friends since they were in preschool. They’d learned to ride bikes together, taken tap-dance lessons together, and done almost everything together. Carly felt as welcome in Sara’s house as she felt in her own.
But two months ago, Sara’s mother had died. Carly knew her friend was still hurting because Sara had a funny kind of look on her face all the time—the kind that made Carly want to cry.
She wanted to buy Sara a special gift, but she didn’t have very much money. Maybe she could do some extra chores and earn some money that way.
Carly hurried home after school, eager to ask her mother.
“I know you want to help,” Mother said after Carly explained her plan. “But the kind of hurt Sara has won’t go away by buying her a present.”
“I know,” Carly said. “I just wanted to remind her that I love her.”
Carly thought more about that. How could she best show Sara that she cared? She recalled the blessing her father had given her when he confirmed her a member of the Church: “I bless you with the power of understanding. Use it to bless the lives of others.”
Understanding. Carly understood some things that Sara should know.
The next day, Carly wrote her testimony on the inside cover of a copy of the Book of Mormon. She tucked it inside her backpack.
As usual, Carly and Sara sat next to each other in the cafeteria at lunch. “I have something for you,” Carly said. She handed Sara the Book of Mormon.
Sara gave Carly a strange look. “What’s this?”
“It’s one of the scriptures we have in our church. We use it along with the Bible.”
Sara opened the book to the page where Carly had written her testimony. She read it, then looked up at her friend. “You never talked about your church before.”
Embarrassed, Carly nodded. “I know.”
“Why are you giving this to me now?” Sara asked. “Because of Mom dying?”
Carly nodded again. “Reading the Book of Mormon makes me feel good inside. I want you to have that feeling too.”
“What kind of feeling?”
Carly hesitated. She had never tried to explain the feelings she had when she read the scriptures. “The kind that makes you feel good right here.” She placed a hand over her heart.
The bell rang, signaling the end of the lunch period.
The next day, Sara asked Carly more questions about the Book of Mormon. A soft happiness enfolded Carly. She knew she had given Sara the right gift.

Ron Rasband never doubted that he would serve a full-time mission. The only question the 19-year-old had while opening his mission call was where he would serve.
“My dad went on a mission to Germany. My older brother went on a mission to Germany. My future brother-in-law went on a mission to Germany,” he recalls. “I thought I was going to Germany.”
But the Lord had other plans. Ron had been called, instead, to the Eastern States Mission, headquartered in New York City, USA. Disappointed, he took his call to his bedroom, knelt by his bed, said a prayer, randomly opened his scriptures, and began reading:
“Behold, and lo, I have much people in this place, in the regions round about; and an effectual door shall be opened in the regions round about in this eastern land.
“Therefore, I, the Lord, have suffered you to come unto this place; for thus it was expedient in me for the salvation of souls” (D&C 100:3–4; emphasis added).
Immediately, the Holy Ghost confirmed to Ron that his call to the Eastern States Mission was no mistake.
“I went from being disappointed to having my first of many scriptural impressions that this is where the Lord wanted me to go,” he recalls. “That was a pivotal spiritual experience for me.”

Walking Hawk moved slowly toward the fire in the center of the village and took a place in the shadows behind the other novice warriors. He tried not to look across the fire at Standing Elk, Eagle Claw, Buffalo Horn, or the other boys his own age who now had taken their places with the men.
Walking Hawk barely heard the talk at the council meeting. His impatience made all other thoughts grow dim. Perhaps if he hadn’t gone with the hunters in search of wild horses, he, too, would be sitting there with the men. A picture of the splendid young roan mare that had been his pay for helping in the horse hunt, however, filled his mind so that he wasn’t too envious of the other boys’ new position of manhood.
Most of the boys who had proven themselves during his absence had killed only antelope or deer, not the great buffalo.
Walking Hawk sat up straighter. That was what he would do. He would not settle for less than a buffalo. Then it wouldn’t matter so much that he hadn’t been among the first.
With the vow bright in his heart, Walking Hawk listened to the words of Long Arm, one of the most famous leaders among all the Sioux.
“The buffalo no longer come to this place as they have in the past,” Long Arm said. Then he paused, glancing around the circle of faces turned toward him. No one spoke.
“The season grows late for securing meat and hides and all else that the buffalo provides for our people. Winter will be upon us before we are prepared. We cannot wait any longer. Tomorrow we must go to the west in search of the buffalo.”
A murmur rose from the men in the circle, for there was danger in going farther west into Crow country, the land of their enemies.
Seeing nothing but a few straggler buffalo during the next three days, the Sioux’s hopes quickened when scouts reported signs that a large herd had been in the vicinity not many days before. The women were pleased when Long Arm announced that a more permanent camp would be made near the ragged, gray bluffs where they would have cover and shade. From here, the scouts would search for the buffalo herd and signal the men to ride out for the hunt.
It was barely dawn when the hunt leader rode out with a few of the most experienced scouts in search of the herd. For those left at camp, the day passed slowly. The waiting was hard for everyone.
Without really tasting it, Walking Hawk ate the supper his mother set in front of him that evening. He walked to the horse herd to watch the animals graze along the stream, and then came back to the tepee to sleep.
Early the next morning Walking Hawk stepped from the tepee. He could not stand this inactivity any longer. He had decided to slip away from the camp to find and kill a straggler buffalo. If no herd were found, he, at least, would have proved himself in his own hunt.
As he had on many mornings in the past, Walking Hawk searched the horse herd for his roan mare.
Impatience pushed at him but still he took time to rub the pony’s coat with a bunch of grass until it gleamed in the first morning light. He casually glanced around at the hunters who had now returned to the village for their morning meal.
Walking Hawk moved slowly, as though he were leading his pony to the stream for water and the better grass growing near there. At the stream, he mounted and sat astride his pony, studying the clouds overhead and the ripples in the water. Then pressing his heels in slightly, the roan started walking downstream. Once around the bend, Walking Hawk crouched forward and dug his heels into the pony’s sides.
He felt a strange uncertainty about running away without telling even his father about his plan. But when he returned with a buffalo, they would all be proud of him.
Walking Hawk had ridden quite a distance without seeing game of any kind, by the time the sun was straight overhead. He decided to ride only as far as the next rise with the stunted trees, and then he would turn back to camp.
Halfway to the trees, Walking Hawk quickly pulled the pony to a halt. Moving from the protection of the trees were two buffalo cows and a partly grown calf. They had not caught sight of him yet and the wind was in his favor.
Sliding off his pony’s back, Walking Hawk paused just long enough to fit an arrow to his bow. Then he ground-reined the pony and crept forward alone.
He would shoot the young cow since the calf was old enough to be weaned. The other cow was too old and tough. Walking Hawk was just about to let the arrow fly, but he paused for a moment. Had he seen a movement beyond the buffalo? His heart jumped like a startled coyote when he realized what the movement was.
In his excitement at seeing the buffalo, Walking Hawk had not been careful and had moved above the horizon line.
Now he had been seen by Crow warriors!
The horsemen were still some distance away, down the west side of the ridge. But they rode swiftly toward him.
The buffalo were forgotten as Walking Hawk bolted for his pony. Sensing his fear, the mare was in motion almost before he had mounted. With this much head start, he hoped to outrun the Crows to the camp.
Then suddenly Walking Hawk’s head reeled, for he recognized the mistake of his thinking. He must not ride toward the camp. To do so would give away the location of his people and make them easy prey for their enemies.
Swallowing his fear, Walking Hawk headed the pony off at an angle from their camp. He glanced over his shoulder and was relieved to see that the riders had not yet topped the ridge. Is it possible that they haven’t seen me, he wondered.
Twice more he glanced back. Five warriors had ridden into clear view.
Walking Hawk rode on all through the afternoon, beyond the time of dusk and into the night. Though his pony breathed hard, it did not falter. His heart sang with gratitude for such a fine animal.
At last, Walking Hawk brought his pony to a halt. Though there was no sound of his pursuers, he knew that they could be very near just waiting for morning to resume their chase. But now he and his pony must have rest. He wondered if he had come so far that he would be unable to find his way back to the camp.
Morning came quickly and as Walking Hawk scanned the horizon in all directions, he felt certain that he had lost the five warriors who had followed him all the previous day.
Though he was becoming faint from hunger, Walking Hawk climbed on his pony and rode toward camp. Dusk was settling like a heavy robe over the land when he caught sight of the familiar line of bluffs ahead. The camp was so well hidden that, without previous knowledge, he would never have guessed its location.
Walking Hawk swallowed hard at the rough command of a sentry who rose up from among the rocks with his bow and arrow poised.
“It is Walking Hawk, son of Red Feather,” he struggled for words. “I—I have returned.”
“You have brought concern to your family and danger to us all,” the sentry scolded him.
The sound of their voices brought Walking Hawk’s father in long strides. His face was dark with anger.
“Care for your horse,” Red Feather commanded. “And then you shall explain the worry that you have brought to your mother.” He strode away as quickly as he had come.
Walking Hawk wanted to make the task of caring for his pony stretch on for a long time, but he dared not. Never had he seen such anger on his father’s face.
Red Feather’s anger did not lessen as Walking Hawk told of his strong wish to become a successful hunter, of his plan for at last achieving it, of his near success, and then of the coming of the Crow warriors.
“So careless!” his father exploded. “Surely, my son would not be so foolish about his own safety or that of his people. Failing to creep carefully to the top of a ridge when in enemy country is unbelievable!”
As his father spoke, Walking Hawk began to realize the seriousness of his act. He tried to swallow the shame that rose bright in his heart. But he could not look at his father. Now he understood that the laws of his people were not just unreasonable rules set down by adults. His act had been a selfish one.
His father put Walking Hawk’s next thought into words. “No one among us has the right to bring danger to himself if it could also bring danger to our people. There can be no safety for any of our people unless each one accepts responsibility for the welfare of all.”
Walking Hawk nodded seriously. “When at last a buffalo herd is sighted,” he said, “I shall stay behind to help guard the camp. It is what I wish.”
Red Feather looked surprised. But as he left the tepee, his heart swelled with pride. Now Walking Hawk was indeed becoming a man!

An example of tobacco’s powerful hold is illustrated in a letter which was written by a mother to the popular columnist and human relations adviser Ann Landers:
“Dear Ann Landers:
“A year ago our two-year-old son, Earl, had difficulty breathing, so we took him to a doctor. We learned Earl is allergic to cigarette smoke. My husband said we both had to quit smoking right then and there. He hasn’t touched a cigarette since. I went back to smoking that same night.
“My husband doesn’t know I smoke. I have to sneak around and smoke in the basement, and it is making a nervous wreck out of me. Do you think it would be wrong if we let a nice couple adopt little Earl—a nice couple who don’t smoke? The only problem is that my husband is crazy about the boy. I love him too, but I am more the practical type. What do you think, Ann?
“/s/ Mrs. E. R. M.
“Dear Mrs. E. R. M.:
“I think a lot of people who read this letter are going to say I made it up. It’s utterly fantastic that a mother would put cigarettes ahead of her own child. Don’t present your wild idea to your husband. I wouldn’t blame him if he decided to keep little Earl and unload you!”

As he grew up on the farm, Ezra, or “T” as he was nicknamed, learned the value of work. At age four he could drive a team, and he was soon herding cattle, thinning beets, milking cows, and doing general farm work. When Ezra was 12, his father was called on a mission. The family sold half the farm and shared their two-room home with the family that operated part of the remaining acres. President Benson’s mother was left to care for seven children, and the eighth was born shortly after his father arrived in the mission field.
“Never did I hear a murmur from her lips,” President Benson recalls.
In this time of hardship, the family pitched in. Ezra was known as a “tease” at school, but he worked hard. He also found time to trap muskrats to help meet expenses, and to round up cattle in the mountains. At 16, he single-handedly thinned an entire acre of sugar beets in one day. He loved sports, especially basketball and baseball, and was a friend and teammate of Harold B. Lee, who later became the 11th President of the Church.

A couple of years ago, in a tightly contested football game that came down to the last play on a rival team’s home field, Coach Sitake quietly did something that speaks to his character. Before the game ended, the opposing team prematurely stormed the field, only to be told by game officials to get back off the field so the final play could take place. The final play nearly swung the game in BYU’s favor but fell just short.

As the home-team student section stormed the field once again, many of the fans were charged with an emotion that I call “athletic-induced anger.” The situation became somewhat dangerous for players and coaches who found themselves in a wave of charging fans. As opposing fans approached Kalani to scream and jeer in his face, he invited them to take selfie photos with him. This small, humble act in a moment of high emotion instantly melted away the anger. Kalani’s reaction to the incident neutralized the entire situation. Rather than demeaning our coach, opposing fans swarmed him to take selfies. BYU runs deep for Kalani Sitake. Cougar Nation is thankful Kalani is with us!