Gospel Story Finder

Eventually my parents moved our family to Ontario, California, USA. My mother found herself in an unfamiliar country, unable to speak the language and in culture shock. Like a hen that gathers her chicks under her wings, she would gather all of us children and fall to her knees, pleading to Heavenly Father that none of the children He had given her would fall away from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. My parents used family prayer, daily scripture reading, regular family fasts, weekly family home evening, and Church meetings to seek Heavenly Father’s help in fortifying our family.
My parents encouraged us to behave like missionaries early in life. We always wore white shirts to church and had missionary haircuts. As a priest I would bless the sacrament, and my younger brothers would prepare and pass the sacrament as teachers and deacons. I could see my mother and father watching us, making sure we completed our duties faithfully.
Before I left on my mission, my mother said, “Do your part, and I will do mine. I will fast and pray for you to find people to teach.” She continued fasting and praying for all four of her sons during their missions. We all served faithfully and returned home with honor.
During my last visit with her before her death, my mother said, “Peiholani, I have taught you all that I know to be most important in this life and the life to come. That is, the gospel of Jesus Christ is true. The atoning blood of Jesus Christ is salvation to your soul. Honor the covenants you have made with the Lord in the temple. Do this, and our family will be together again. This I know without a doubt because Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ live.”
My testimony was built on the gospel, by every word my mother and father said. I know that our family will be together again someday because my parents fulfilled their mission to teach us the gospel and lead us to the Savior.

An event some years ago changed my attitude toward modesty. As I got ready to go to a Mutual activity, I put on some short shorts; it never occurred to me that they were inappropriate. The activities planned for that Tuesday included having the missionaries give us some practical advice about missionary work. One of the last empty seats was next to me. For a brief moment the elders began to argue, as discreetly as they could, over who had to sit next to me. Though they never said so specifically, I understood they were uneasy because of the way I was dressed.
At that moment, notwithstanding my embarrassment, I began to understand what it meant to be modest. I realized that I was making virtuous young men feel uncomfortable—and that I could also be making unvirtuous men feel too comfortable. I began to better understand what type of person I wanted to be with and, more important, what type of person I wanted to be. From that moment on, I was not only prepared for the changes I was about to make, but I looked forward to making them.
Chelsea Anderson, Ohio, USA

Lohran sought to learn God’s will through fasting and prayer. That very week, he noticed the recently delivered issue of the New Era magazine in his home, and he began thumbing through it. He was attracted to the article “Ice Dreams,” about ice skater Chris Obzansky, who interrupted a promising skating career to serve a mission at age 19, losing the opportunity to compete in the 2006 Winter Olympics.
One passage in particular caught Lohran’s attention: as Chris was in sacrament meeting listening to his Young Men president talk about his own mission call, the Spirit told Chris, “You need to serve a mission when you’re 19, or you’re going to have a tough life.” Chris said, “The message was so clear I actually turned around to see if someone was there. The feeling came back 10 times stronger, and I knew I had to go on a mission.”
Lohran smiles. “When I read that, I felt it had been written for me. Age 19 is the age prescribed by the Lord. I realized that was the answer I needed, and it was like an enormous weight was taken off my back.” The time for Lohran to serve a mission was now. He talked to his bishop, made the necessary preparations, and never looked back. “It was not even difficult to make the decision of leaving football behind,” he says, “for I knew it was the right time to do it.”
Lohran served in his country’s capital, in the Brazil Brasília Mission. He was known as “Elder Happy” because of his contagious enthusiasm. “I am exceptionally happy serving people, sharing with them what I know is true,” he says. “It is so gratifying to see people change their lives after learning the gospel.”
Like all missionaries, though, he experienced his share of hardships. “Obviously, missionary life is not all fun,” he says. “There are difficulties, moments of weakness and loneliness, but all that is next to nothing compared to the treasures of a mission. These are years I’ll never forget, that I’ll always have in my mind and, more important, my heart.”
A few months ago he finished serving a successful mission. Now that he’s home, he has joined a football team in Rio de Janiero and believes more chances to continue his football career will come his way. With faith he says, “I am now waiting for the opportunities to come, opportunities that our Heavenly Father will bless me to enjoy.”

Some years ago, President Romney and I were sitting in my office. The door opened and a fine young man came in with a troubled look on his face, and he said, “Brethren, I am going to the temple for the first time tomorrow. I have made some mistakes in the past, and I have gone to my bishop and my stake president, and I have made a clean disclosure of it all; and after a period of repentance and assurance that I have not returned again to those mistakes, they have now adjudged me ready to go to the temple. But, brethren, that is not enough. I want to know, and how can I know, that the Lord has forgiven me, also.”

What would you answer one who would come to you asking that question? As we pondered for a moment, we remembered King Benjamin’s address contained in the book of Mosiah. Here was a group of people who now were asking for baptism, and they said they viewed themselves in their carnal state:
“… And they all cried aloud with one voice, saying: O have mercy, and apply the atoning blood of Christ that we may receive forgiveness of our sins, and our hearts may be purified; …
“… after they had spoken these words the Spirit of the Lord came upon them, and they were filled with joy, having received a remission of their sins, and having peace of conscience. …” (Mosiah 4:2–3.)
There was the answer.
If the time comes when you have done all that you can to repent of your sins, whoever you are, wherever you are, and have made amends and restitution to the best of your ability; if it be something that will affect your standing in the Church and you have gone to the proper authorities, then you will want that confirming answer as to whether or not the Lord has accepted of you. In your soul-searching, if you seek for and you find that peace of conscience, by that token you may know that the Lord has accepted of your repentance. Satan would have you think otherwise and sometimes persuade you that now having made one mistake, you might go on and on with no turning back. That is one of the great falsehoods. The miracle of forgiveness is available to all of those who turn from their evil doings and return no more, because the Lord has said in a revelation to us in our day: “… go your ways and sin no more; but unto that soul who sinneth [meaning again] shall the former sins return, saith the Lord your God.” (D&C 82:7.) Have that in mind, all of you who may be troubled with a burden of sin.
And to you who are teachers, may you help to lift that great burden from those who are carrying it, and who have their conscience so seared that they are kept from activity, and they don’t know where to go to find the answers. You help them to that day of repentance and restitution, in order that they too may have that peace of conscience, the confirming of the Spirit of the Lord that he has accepted of their repentance.

My dear brothers and sisters, I remember as a little girl driving across the Nevada desert with my family to attend general conference in this Tabernacle. Automobiles did not have air-conditioning, so we traveled at night with a canvas water bag tied to the front of the car in case the radiator boiled over. I remember standing outside this building, singing the hymns of Zion in the darkness of the morning, waiting for the large wooden doors to open. I remember secretly hoping that I wouldn’t be seated behind one of the wide, round pillars, or worse, a lady wearing a large hat. Though I was scarcely tall enough to see, I remember the feelings that came over me as everyone rose when the prophet entered. Those feelings of excited reverence are spiritual feelings that return each time I enter this building or hear our leaders speak in general conference. I remember what I have received and heard. I remember what I know and what I have felt.

Jimmy tries to help his brother too. It was really hard for him the first time he saw Paul have a seizure, but now he knows what to look for and what to do if it happens. Still, he prays every day that Paul will be OK. His first words each morning are, “Where’s Paul?” He looks up to Paul and wants to go everywhere with him. Sometimes it drives Paul crazy, but he loves his brother and realizes that he needs to do what’s right because Jimmy is learning from him.

The young people listened intently as Don explained that although even as a child he had been a Buck Rogers fan and dreamed of going to the moon, he would never have been an astronaut except for an experience that seemed at the time no more than a fluke. Only years later did he realize that the Lord had reached out and touched his life.
“When I was at Officer Candidate School,” he said, “the section leader came around and we were supposed to sign up for the, physical examination for any of the specialty programs such as underwater demolition or submarines. We were in the study hall, and he walked up behind me and said, ‘Okay, Lind, what shall I sign you up for?’ and I said, ‘Oh, by all means sign me up for flight training.’ He said, ‘Okay,’ and I said, ‘I’m joking!’ He said, ‘I already marked it down,’ and I said ‘Well, erase it!’ He said, ‘I marked it in pen, and this is the only copy I’ve got.’ If he had marked it in pencil he would have just erased it. I said, ‘What am I going to do now?’ He said, ‘Just go take the physical. You don’t really have to apply for it.’ ‘All right, fine.’ So I took the physical, and by golly I passed it! So I thought, well, you can always go down and just try out for flight training, and if you like it … I did try it, and I did like it, and eventually I began flying off aircraft carriers. But if that guy had had a pencil in his hand instead of a pen, I never would have been an astronaut, because flight skills are one of the requirements.
“I learned from this experience that sometimes we don’t realize what the really critical decisions are, and so we’ve got to have the Lord’s help in guiding us. Choosing a wife or husband is an obviously important decision, but taking that physical didn’t seem very important at all. One reason you pray regularly is so that these seemingly insignificant decisions can be the right ones.”

During the tears and other hubbub of leaving the airport, I paid little attention to all the words of advice and caution everyone was giving me. All I could see was the jet pulling up to the gate and visions of converting the entire countries of Guatemala and El Salvador. Finally, we were told to board, There was a rush of last minute hugs, kisses (from my parents and sisters), and, of course, that special handshake from a smiling, beautiful girl who was close to crying.
When I reached the door leading to the boarding area, my father said, “Son, obey all the rules, and you’ll be happy in life.” I nodded a hurried “Sure, Dad” and left. As I walked to the plane, I laughed to myself. “Dad, you got your words mixed again. You meant to say, ‘Obey all the rules, and you’ll be happy on your mission.’” With that, I tossed his advice into my memory, filed under “Parental Counsel.”
Seven months later, my father was dead.
In those first wavering hours after my mission president told me of the tragic plane accident, I found myself much like the cartoon character who has a devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other. The devil said: “What are you doing here? All that talk about life after death is not true. You go on a mission and what happens. You break your foot; go to the hospital; come to a strange land, with strange people and strange customs; and your father gets killed. Sure it’s the happiest two years of your life. 3,200 kilometers away from home, and you’re all alone.”
Such thoughts were foreign to me. I had been a faithful member of the Church all my life; yet, the thoughts were there.
The angel on my other shoulder said: “Be strong, Elder. You had a great father you can be proud of, a mighty patriarch who taught you the gospel in all things. You know eternal life is a true principle of the gospel, and you know your father will be waiting for you. You ve had a testimony of the gospel since you were old enough to cry. This is no time to start doubting.”
In the midst of this struggle between doubt and reality, my father’s last words at the airport came echoing into my mind: “Son, obey all the rules, and you’ll be happy in life.” Dad hadn’t confused his words at all. Those final words to me were inspired counsel that would guide me for the rest of my life. My father lived as he taught, and a few weeks following his death, the full testimony of his life was made manifest to me.
Finances became a major concern. I had enough money in the bank to cover 11 of the remaining 15 months of my mission and hoped Mom could get enough together for the remaining four. My plans for college now became hopes and dreams. However, the Lord takes care of his missionaries.
I received a letter from my mother telling me that I needn’t worry about finances anymore. A man had contacted my bishop and asked if he could support me for the rest of my mission. This is not too unusual, since there are many good-hearted men in the Church, but the difference in this instance was in what the man told my bishop: “l’m not a member of your church, but out of the love and respect I have for Horace Rappleye, I’d like to support his son for the rest of his mission.” And he did. For 15 months the money was placed regularly in my bank account by the anonymous benefactor.
He remains anonymous to this day.
My father’s life of obedience brought blessings to him even after he died. His death became the highlight of my mission. That may be a strange thing to say, and I wish my father were still alive, but my mission thereafter became a living testimony to my father’s life. I soon found how precious it is to live “all the rules.” No matter how small or insignificant the rule seemed, if I obeyed, I was happy.
We are told by the Lord, “There is a law, irrevocably decreed in heaven before the foundations of this world, upon which all blessings are predicated—
“And when we obtain any blessing from God, it is by obedience to that law upon which it is predicated.” (D&C 130:20–21.)
This scripture is true. Whenever I find that I become depressed or unhappy. I usually find it is because I am not being obedient in all things as I should. At these times a comforting echo reverberates in my head. “Son, obey all the rules, and you’ll be happy in life.”

This time, as I opened my mouth, I felt a peace that I hadn’t felt since I was a kid. “At church once, some old guy told a story,” I began. “It’s about a kid who’s 18 and goes to work on a fishing boat out of St. John’s. And sometime in the summer of his first year on the boat it hits a sandbar and sinks. Most of the crew climbs aboard the lifeboat, but this guy and the captain get caught by a current and pulled away.
“They don’t have life jackets or anything, and for a long time they just tread water—hoping for someone to find ’em.”
“Wow,” from Lanny, who had been on enough fishing boats to know how big the ocean was, and how impossible it would be to find anyone swimming in it.
“Anyway, finally the captain realizes that the water’s too cold for them to last much longer, so he swims over to the kid and says ‘We’re not gonna make it.’ And he asks the kid if he’s religious. Well, the kid is just like me. He’s a Mormon, but he’s been kind of goofing off and it’s been a while since he’s been active. But he says he’ll say a prayer for ’em.”
“And what happened?”
“He and the captain close their eyes, and the kid says a prayer out loud … And when they open their eyes they see the light of a buoy. They swim over and hang on, and a few hours later they are found.”
Lanny smiled. “And the guy telling the story turns out to be the 18-year-old kid, right?”
“Uh, no. The guy telling the story was the captain. He joined the Church.”

In a desert region one day, a number of travelers set out on a trip. It was hot and the journey was long. They had little in common except their shared desire to arrive at a distant city. Each carried provisions and water expecting to replenish their supplies along the way. Not long after leaving their homes, a great storm arose. Dust clouds darkened the sun, and the wind brought swirling sands which quickly filled the low places in the road. What at first had seemed a pleasant outing suddenly became a hazardous undertaking. The travelers soon realized that the question was not merely when they would arrive at the city, but whether they would arrive at all.
Confusion and doubt affected the company. Some sought shelter, while others attempted to turn back. A few moved onward through the storm. The end of the first day found them scattered, with inadequate provisions, wanting water, and lost in the desert. A new day brought hunger, thirst, and despair. The storm still raged. Hope was in short supply. Familiar landmarks were gone. The road, which had been narrow and hard to find, at best, was hidden by silt and debris. No one knew where to go to find it. Many claimed to know the way, but as they could not agree, each traveler wandered in his own way in search of water or the shelter of a settlement.
At the end of yet another day, two of the group, half-blinded by dust and with their strength nearly gone, came unexpectedly, with something more than good fortune, upon an inn and way station. There in the sanctuary of walls and roof, they refreshed themselves and counted their blessings. There they replenished their stores and contemplated the remaining portion of their journey. The weather remained unsettled. The wind continued to blow. The poorly marked road wound ahead through hills where the sand piled deep and where it was said that robbers sometimes preyed upon unsuspecting travelers.
One of the two was anxious to reach his destination. He had important business in the city. He gathered his supplies and water and paid his account. Early in the morning he set out in haste in an attempt to cross the hill country by nightfall. But the windblown sand had blocked the road. He was forced to dig and detour. When night came, he was far from the city, exhausted and alone. When he fell asleep, thieves found him, took his supplies, and left him without strength and without water to face almost certain death.
The second traveler was also desirous of reaching his destination. But he remembered the others in the desert behind him. They were lost and would soon perish without water and without hope. He alone knew where they were. He alone knew their condition and their need. He likewise arose early and paid his account. He glanced at the hills with their promise of the city beyond, and then turned back down the road whence he had come. The sky was a little lighter now. He recognized some of the landmarks. He knew about where he had left his traveling companions. He called out to them by name, for he knew them. After hours of patient searching, he found many of them. He shared with them life-giving water from his own containers. He told them he knew the way. He spoke as if he had authority, so they followed him, and he brought them to the way station with him. There they rested and regained their strength. They were given directions regarding how to reach the city. They renewed their provisions, filled their water containers, and went out again to face the storm.
The journey was still difficult. The wind still blew and clouds obscured the sun. The road still wound through the sometimes deep sand, and thieves were still in the hills. But this time the traveler was not alone. The group was large. When sand blocked the way, work parties were organized to remove it. When some faltered, the strong shouldered the burdens of the weak. When night came, there were watchmen to man the watch. After many days, the second man and his friends arrived safely at their destination.
When they arrived there, those who had been rescued and given water gathered around the second traveler and said, “We could not have come to this place without you. We shall ever be grateful to you for searching for us, for finding us, for sharing your water and your bread. We know that you put aside your own journey and submitted to the hardships of the desert in order to help us when we were lost. What can we do to repay you?”
And the second man replied, “Thank me not, for by no power of my own did I find the way station. The water there would have been bitter had I not shared it with you. I know that I could not have arrived at the city without you. Your strength and encouragement enabled me to continue on. Your presence prevented robbers from attacking. I have come to realize that in order to save my own life, I had to save yours as well. I know now that it is not so much the haste of one’s journey but rather what he does along the way which determines whether he will arrive at his destination. Thank me not,” he said. “In truth, I have not brought you to this place, we have brought one another.”

Then there was Peter, youngest of the sons. He knew something his brothers didn’t know. Peter received his patriarchal blessing in 1986, after the temple dedication. He talks about going to a small town on the Polish border, attending a small branch in a shabby rented building rich with the Spirit, and then going to the home of the patriarch.

“He told me that I would go on a full-time mission. I would serve in a different country and a different language, and it would be in my youth. I was crying, I felt so close to the Lord in that moment. Afterward, I read my patriarchal blessing every night. I prayed. And I started saving money for my mission. I knew I was going soon.”

Peter just didn’t know where he would be going. (He thought somehow it might be Russia, since he spoke that language fairly well.) And, for some reason, he shared his blessing with his parents but not his brothers. “I was kind of different in my family. I always said, ‘We’re going on a mission and it’s going to be great. We’re going to change things.’ My brother Matthias was skeptical. But I had my patriarchal blessing. I knew.”

Still, Peter didn’t know how it would happen. Also, he was the youngest. As far as he knew, he had been given a promise that his brothers hadn’t been given. So he kept quiet about it.

Then, not long before the hated wall came down, the East German government began to allow a few full-time missionaries in for the first time in 50 years. At the same time, a handful of East German missionaries were allowed out of the country to serve in other nations. For some reason, none of the Lehmanns were permitted to be part of that group.

But then came those November days that were replayed on TV screens all over the world. East Berliners sat atop the wall with hammers and iron bars, tearing apart a barrier that had already been undermined by faith and prayer.

Peter was the first to submit his mission papers. Matthias and Michael followed soon after. All three were called to missions in the United States: Michael in the Tennessee Nashville Mission; Matthias in the Idaho Boise Mission; and Peter in the Colorado Denver Mission.

My friend and I were the only Mormons working in our area. We were always kidded about our so-called “strange beliefs,” and every time we’d mention religion, the others would jump down our throats. But they couldn’t stop us from singing. It reached the point that if we’d stop, they’d ask us to begin again. I think we sang every hymn in the hymnbook and every song we’d ever learned in Primary or Sunday School. It was very special singing about the Savior in the land he loved. Songs like “I Am a Child of God” and “Come, Come, Ye Saints” began to touch the hearts of the people we were working with, and they began asking questions.
I remember how excited one young woman was when she found out I was a Mormon. She had visited a world’s fair and had been very impressed by all the young people who were eager to explain our church to her. She wanted to know what it is in our church that gets our young people so excited. She said, “I thought religion was something for the old, when you don’t have anything better to do. What is it that makes you all look so happy?”
Some of us didn’t realize how much we were being watched. I happened to overhear the conversation of two young women. One of them was speaking very harshly and using profanity. Finally the other woman spoke up and said, “I don’t have to listen to you and this kind of language! I’m going to get me a good Mormon friend!”
One Jewish boy I met had heard something about archaeology and the Church. He said, “I understand that one of you Mormons made an important archaeological find in the states. I think it was New York, wasn’t it? It was supposed to be some kind of record starting with my people here in Jerusalem. Would you tell me about it?”
When you are placed out in the middle of nowhere and denied most of the conveniences you are accustomed to, you become grateful for things you never realized you were blessed with before. It amazes me that I could be completely covered with dirt, have blisters on both hands, sore muscles, flies flying around my head, and an upset stomach, and yet feel so completely blessed for experiences in which physical discomfort teaches patience and gratitude. I started thinking past the physical and material things because I was living on so little and was amazed at how little I need materially and how much my whole life depends on my Father in heaven.
Having participated in this travel-work-study program, I find the whole existence of man has taken on a new meaning for me. Everything seems to take its place in an orderly plan, and I realize that man, throughout all the ages, has not changed a great deal. I understand more fully that I am a part of the Lord’s plan. In the same way we tried to reconstruct broken pieces of pottery into the original vase or jar, I see the small lessons I am learning fitting into an organized, divine piece of art.

Missionary work is great! One of the reasons I decided to serve a mission is because of a missionary assigned to my branch at home. One time I asked him, “Elder, why did you serve a mission and leave your work and family?”
He answered, “Brother, there are two reasons I went on a mission. First, I love God. Second, I love the people who have not yet heard about the gospel of Jesus Christ.” (See Mosiah 28:3.)
Because of that missionary, I am now serving a mission.

“I’m scared,” Ada said. It was her first day of school in Taiwan. But she didn’t speak Chinese like the other students. How could she make friends? Who would she play with at break time?
Mom gave Ada a big hug. “It’s OK to be scared.”
Ada frowned. “I don’t know how to make friends here.”
Mom gave her another hug. “If you get nervous, maybe you can think of a Primary song. Will that help?”
Ada nodded. Then she walked with Mom to her classroom. Her teacher was waiting for her. “Ni hao!” the teacher said. Ada tried to smile. She didn’t know what those words meant.
Ada said goodbye to Mom. Then she found a desk and sat down.
She looked at the other kids. Some of them were talking to each other. Others sat quietly like Ada. Ada was nervous. It felt like bees were buzzing in her stomach.
Then Ada saw a girl who was crying. Ada wanted to help her. But how could she help when she couldn’t speak Chinese? What if the girl didn’t want help?
But then Ada did what Mom said. She thought of the words of her favorite Primary song: “Love one another as Jesus loves you.” Ada knew the Holy Ghost was asking her to help.
Ada sat next to the girl. She put her arm around her. Then she patted her back like Mom did when Ada was sad. The girl stopped crying! She hugged Ada back.
Ada pointed to herself. “Ada.”
The girl pointed to herself. “Mei,” she said.
Ada smiled. She sat by Mei the rest of the day. Even though they didn’t speak the same language, they had fun together. They ate their lunches together. They played together at recess. And Mei helped Ada learn new words in Chinese!
Ada couldn’t wait to tell Mom about her new friend. She knew that if she followed Jesus, she wouldn’t have to be afraid of anything.
This story took place in Taiwan.

Teaching children requires more than desire. It requires diligence on our part. Earlier I mentioned the song “Teach Me to Walk in the Light,” written by Clara McMaster. Sister McMaster shared with me that while serving on the Primary general board, she received the assignment to write a song about teaching children. She found this an especially daunting task and prayed to know how to begin and complete this assignment.

After much effort she submitted her work, only to be told that it was not yet right. She was not told what to change, only to continue the effort until it was right. She was spiritually exhausted, not knowing how to proceed. She again sought guidance from the Lord, made changes, and submitted another edition. This process continued three times until at last she was told it was perfect and she was not to change anything.

Even though there were many times that Sister McMaster wanted to give up, she diligently worked at what she had been asked to do and what she hoped would bless the lives of children. Her inspired music has been sung by adults and children in many lands and in many languages. This song represents the desire of my heart—that all children will learn to walk in the light of the gospel of Jesus Christ. This song begins with a plea from a child, “Teach me to walk in the light,” and ends with a commitment, “Gladly, gladly we’ll walk in the light.”

Cody Carr knew when he was only four that he wanted to be an astronaut. He had a little bank shaped like a spaceship that he put his tithing money in, and each time he dropped in a penny, a light would go on as if the rockets were firing. As he grew older, his school friends kidded him about being a spaceman, but Cody was serious. Those were the days of the birth of the manned space program, and he listened to every minute of every flight.
Naturally, his twin interest was astronomy. He received a telescope for Christmas and began getting up at 3:00 or 4:00 in the morning to look at the stars. “The night sky always fascinated me,” he said. “The whole universe is God’s creation, but we don’t know very much about it. I have often thought that if there were another frontier left, I’d be out exploring it. But the only one left is outer space, and there’s only one way to get there—by becoming an astronaut.”
In school, Cody took all the science and electronics classes he could. “I didn’t think electronics had much to do with space exploration, but dad suggested it, and I loved it!” He became a finalist in a statewide electronics competition.
Part of Cody’s goal to become an astronaut included a goal to become an Air Force Academy cadet. As he progressed through high school, he counseled with his father and mother and prayed about each step along the way. He had three great goals in life.
The first was to keep all the commandments of his Father in Heaven. The second was to serve a full-time mission. “All my life we have talked about a mission and the things pertaining to a mission. It was never ‘if you go on a mission’ but always ‘when you go.’” The third great goal was temple marriage.
“Every night before we went to sleep, mom or dad would come around to our beds and ask each of us in turn, ‘What do you want out of life? What do you want to do? What do you want to be?’ Those goal-setting sessions really helped me keep my head on straight. Every night I said those three things and sometimes others—like the astronaut plans—but always those three. We would talk about what I needed to do to achieve those goals, and then we would talk about any problems or questions I had.”
But two of Cody’s goals conflicted with each other. In order to go on a mission, he would have to resign from the academy after his first year—there was no such thing as a leave of absence for a mission. If he left, he was probably out of the program. To get back in, he would have to be renominated, and the mere fact of his resignation might work against him. What were the odds?
The preparations continued. Cody ran four or five miles each night to condition himself. As a junior, he spent one whole day taking college entrance exams, including the ACT (American College Test), SAT (Scholastic Aptitude Test), an Air Force engineering aptitude examination, and a physical fitness test. He was also interviewed and appraised for leadership potential.
The first year at the academy wasn’t spent just waiting for a mission call. “It was hard,” he remembers. “After the first four months I started asking, ‘Is this what I want to do in life?’ But then I would think back to the confirmations I had received through the Holy Ghost. I knew I was doing things, as President Kimball says, in their proper season and order, and I prayed, and the plan was reconfirmed. I knew I was right where I should be, and that really helped me.”
As the first year drew to a close, Cody had to reaffirm in his own mind his decision to go on a mission. To survive the toughest year in the academy and then give it all up took a lot of courage. And it might also mean abandoning his lifelong dream of becoming an astronaut. “But I had already made the decision to resign eight years earlier. I had no doubt what I was going to do even though I agonized over it.”
In March, during spring break, Cody had his mission interviews with his bishop and stake president. At the end of the summer, following SERE training (survival, evasion, resistance, and escape), he resigned. As with any cadet who asks to leave the academy, he was sent to interviews with several different counselors and officers.
“All of them would grill me at first,” Cody said, “but as soon as I told them my reasons for resigning, their attitude changed. They all expressed their respect for the LDS people they knew, and when I told them I was going to try to come back, which was something of a shock in itself, they said fine.” His written statement included a full explanation of what a mission is and why he wanted to serve.
The officer who had to sign the paper as a witness commented, “I’ve never read anything like that before in my life. Is that really what you believe?”
“I sure do,” Cody replied.
“A lot of them didn’t understand,” Cody explains, “but they accepted. They were feeling something they’d rarely felt before.”
In May Cody received his call to the Switzerland Zurich Mission. He entered the MTC in August. Concentrating on studies was second nature, and obedience was ingrained. “I wanted to use my time wisely because I knew I was paying a price for my mission,” he said.
At first the thought of not being readmitted hung over him, but the time finally came when he stopped worrying and left it in the hands of the Lord. Besides, missionary work presented its own challenges. “For the first six or seven months, I found myself going through the motions. I knew the Church was true and that the work was important, but I didn’t love it as I should. My academy experience came to my aid. I was used to doing difficult things. I worked hard and prayed every day that the work would become a joy instead of a burden. In the course of about a week, the whole thing turned around. Suddenly I was happier; I was working out of desire, not just duty. I knew my mission would be worth it even if I never got accepted back into the academy.”
Then a letter from home told Cody that Ted Parsons, another cadet who had resigned from the academy to serve a mission, had been readmitted! Maybe there was a chance after all!
Cody took the necessary exams at a U.S. military installation. “My mission president gave me a blessing. He told me I had served an honorable mission and that the Lord would help me accomplish what I needed to.”
Shortly after the blessing, Cody had a head-on bicycle collision, shattering his nose on the handlebar. “Qualifications at the academy are stringent. With an impact like that you would normally lose pilot qualification. If I had hit my eye or forehead or even my teeth, it would probably have disqualified me.” Cody is convinced he was protected.
When the test results arrived, they showed a score higher than the first time Cody applied for admission, which was advantageous because the competition was tougher.
“I had done everything I could. I made sure my end of things was in order. I wasn’t expecting the Lord to meet me more than halfway. Then I left it up to him,” Cody said.
Cody was renominated by his senator. His faith had paid off. Two weeks after returning from Switzerland and two years after leaving Colorado Springs, Cody Carr entered the academy once more. His dream of being an astronaut was fully intact, along with his other goals of keeping the commandments, marrying in the temple, and being a lifelong missionary.

“These are very fine candles, young man. I’m glad to see that you took special care in making them. How much are you asking for the large ones?”
Thane looked up at the tall man in the fringed buckskin suit. “Two dollars for three, sir,” he answered.
“That certainly seems reasonable enough. I’ll take twelve.”
One day I’ll have an outfit like his, Thane thought after the man left. And I’ll wear soft, beaded moccasins and have a beautiful black-powder rifle.
There was something Thane wanted even more, but for that he needed fifty-two dollars. For a long time now he hadn’t thought of anything else.
“Boy, are you ever lucky to have him buy his candles from you,” Thane’s sister Stephanie said. She had come to bring Thane his lunch. “Do you know who that was, or are you daydreaming again? He’s this year’s bushway!”
“The bushway!” Thane exclaimed. Each year a man was chosen to be the bushway, or leader, of the Mountain Men Rendezvous, but Thane hadn’t realized that the man he’d sold the candles to was this year’s bushway.
“They say he’s really strict about having things exactly as they were a hundred fifty years ago,” Stephanie continued. “That’s why you don’t see any cars closeby, and inside the tepees people are cooking their meals over open fires. It really looks neat. How are things going for you? Do you have enough money yet?”
“If I keep selling at this rate,” Thane replied, “I soon will.”
“Well, good luck. I’ll see you later.”
Thane shifted his position on the blanket. He had been sitting there a long time, and his legs were beginning to hurt. From his location on Traders Row he could see on top of the many tepees the colorful banners fluttering in the afternoon breeze. The scene made him feel as if he were living in another time.
The people around him enjoyed reenacting the times of the early-day fur trappers. Besides the shooting contests with black-powder rifles, other contests included setting traps, throwing tomahawks, and starting fires without matches.
Thane always looked forward to the rendezvous, but this time even more than usual. Ever since the last one, when he had first seen the hunting knife with the caribou antler handle and the long shiny blade, it had been on his mind. At school he often drew pictures of the knife on his writing pad. He wanted it more than anything else in the world.
Three afternoons a week after school he had worked painting wooden hives for the Jones Beekeeping Company. In payment he received a little cash and all the beeswax his boss could spare. Then he had learned to make candles, and now with the money he had earned from selling his candles, he had almost enough to buy the knife. If he could earn just nine dollars more, the knife would be his.
Mr. James, one of the other traders, was holding the knife for him. Each time Thane made a sale, he took his money over to Mr. James. Perhaps by tomorrow afternoon he could pick it up. Right now he would take the bushway’s money there and see the knife again. It was getting dark, and soon everybody would put away their wares until the next day.
Thane was close to Mr. James’s tepee when a large boy came running through the trees and almost knocked him over.
He sure is in a hurry, Thane thought. He was just regaining his balance when two large hands grabbed his shoulders and roughly turned him around.
“No, no, he’s not the one we’re after!” Thane heard a familiar voice exclaim. “As a matter of fact, he’s the one I was saving the knife for.”
Thane twisted loose from the tight grip. The knife! My knife? What about my knife?
“Did anybody come through here just now?” Mr. James asked. “Some youngster took off with that knife I’ve been holding for you, and we want to make sure he remembers to bring it back.”
The men did not notice the sick look on Thane’s face as he numbly shook his head. He had seen somebody, but he wasn’t going to tell. The boy was a bully he knew at school, and he was a “boomer.” That’s what the kids called him, too—Boomer.
Thane knew little about boomers, only that they were people living in mobile homes at the edge of town. They had come because of the oil boom. Many of the men worked on the drilling rigs. One night Thane had overheard his parents say that they wished the townspeople and the newcomers could be better friends.
This situation with the knife sure wasn’t going to help anything. The rendezvous would be over in another two days. Thane needed some time to think it through, and for that he wanted to be alone. It was a good thing that his feet knew the way home, because his mind wandered in circles, searching for a solution.
Things looked a little better when he awakened the next morning. Maybe, just maybe, he had found the answer.
Boomer was not the kind of boy who would readily admit that he had done anything wrong. Thane hoped that he could talk to him alone at the general store. Sooner or later everybody in town went there.
Luckily, Thane didn’t have to wait long at the store before he saw Boomer walking down the road.
“Do you have a minute?” Thane asked, falling in beside the bigger boy. “It’s important.”
“Sure. What do you want?” Boomer acted tough, and his hands were buried deep in his pockets.
Thane took a long breath. “I know that it’s you they’re looking for. I saw you, but I’m not going to tell, if you promise to return what you took.”
“You must be joking. Why should I?” Boomer was belligerent and cocky, not denying anything. “Who else knows about this?”
“Nobody. This is just between us.”
Boomer hesitated. He had never really meant to take the knife; even now he wasn’t sure why he’d done it.
“I’ll make a deal with you,” Thane suggested. “I’ll challenge you to a tomahawk throw. If I win, you return the knife.”
“And if you don’t?”
Thane smiled. “Then it’s up to you and your conscience.”
“How good are you, anyway?” Boomer asked.
“Good enough to think I can beat you,” Thane responded firmly. “I’ll go get my tomahawk and meet you at that big cut log in twenty minutes.”
Boomer was already practicing when Thane arrived. Without looking up, Boomer made a line in the dirt with the toe of his boot. “We’ll throw from here,” he said. “You go first. Two out of three wins.”
Thane positioned himself behind the mark and took careful aim. The boys alternated throwing their tomahawks. After two turns their score was exactly the same.
Much depended on the next throw. Thane wiped the perspiration from his hands, gripped his tomahawk, and threw it as hard as he could. The blade sped through the air and bit deeply into the heartwood of the log. He breathed a sigh of relief.
“Not bad,” Boomer said dryly. Completely expressionless, Boomer stepped up for his final throw. The tomahawk flashed in the sunlight and landed far to the right of the log.
Thane was surprised. It’s almost as if he did it on purpose, he thought.
“Well, that decided it. You won fair and square,” admitted Boomer, “and I’ll keep my part of the deal. I’ll return the knife right now.”
“Can I come with you?” Thane offered.
“All right,” said Boomer quietly. His steps slowed considerably by the time they reached Mr. James’s tepee.
Boomer squared his shoulders. “Sir, I’m the boy who took the knife yesterday. It was the wrong thing to do, and I’m sorry. Here. I brought it back.” Boomer reached inside his boot and pulled out the knife. “Maybe I could make it up to you somehow,” he added.
“I’m sure you can, son. It takes a big person to admit his mistake. You’ve done that, so I’m not going to be too hard on you. If you want a knife like this, Thane can tell you how to get one. Right, Thane? As a matter of fact, for helping me recover the knife, Thane, I want you to have it now and to consider your account as being paid in full.”
“I don’t know what to say. How can I thank you?” Thane stumbled over the words.
“Oh, that’s easy,” Mr. James assured him. “Just sell me some more of your candles.”
“I’d be glad to,” Thane exclaimed. “I’ll go home and get some right now. Why don’t you come with me, Boomer? I think my mother is making ice cream.”
Boomer didn’t hesitate a minute. “Hey! That would be great, if you’re sure it’s OK. I haven’t tasted homemade ice cream for a long time.”
Thane was beginning to understand that, more than anything else, Boomer needed a friend.
The boys walked along slowly, each lost in his own thoughts.
“What are you thinking about?” asked Boomer.
“Maybe, just maybe, you’re not such a bad guy,” Thane answered.
“Well! I see you’ve got good taste, anyway,” Boomer said.
Both boys smiled and responded to an unspoken challenge to race home.
“Hello, Thane! Hi there, Wilbert,” Thane’s mother called from the doorway. She took the mail from its box and went back into the house.
Wilbert! Thane wasn’t sure that he could trust his ears. Had he heard right? A name like that explained a lot of things. But how does Mom know Boomer? Maybe she knows his mother. Thane decided to ask her about that later.
“Since I know your real name,” Thane said cautiously, “would you mind if I call you Will?”
For a split second Boomer hesitated, intently studying the expression on the other boy’s face.
“Sure,” he answered with a relieved grin. “But let’s keep my real name a secret, OK?”

When I was 11 years old, something else happened that helped build my testimony. My family was having a fun summer weekend at our cabin in the mountains. On Saturday night a man showed up at our cabin door with some bad news. He told us our home in Salt Lake City had caught on fire and most of it had been destroyed.

Fire can be scary. I was very upset that our home was gone. But then my father did something I’ve never forgotten. He gathered our family of eight around him and said a beautiful prayer. He told Heavenly Father how grateful he was that our family was safe.

As my father prayed, my heart again felt that same warm feeling that I’d had in stake conference when I was five years old. I knew that when we returned to our burned home, our friends and family would be there to help. And they were. They gave us food and clothing. And they helped us rebuild our home.

How grateful I was for my parents’ faith and the example of their testimonies. The fire destroyed many precious things. But because of the Holy Ghost, I was blessed with a more precious possession—my own testimony.

“Congratulations, Marcus,” Mom said as we walked to the car. “You sure played a great game!”
“When you played your first game, did you think you’d be your team’s starting pitcher in the regional finals?” Dad asked as we started home.
“I guess I dreamed about it some,” I answered honestly, “but I didn’t really think it’d happen. I thought the Pirates would end up going again.”
Dad, Mom, and I relived the game, especially the ending with the Pirates close behind and their star player, Gary, up to bat. Everybody on his team was counting on Gary to win the game and send them to the regional finals. But Gary swung and missed each of my three best pitches, and we won the game.
“Oh, before I forget, Marcus,” Mom told me, “Sister Anderson wants you to give a talk in Primary a week from Sunday.”
Usually talking in Primary wasn’t my favorite thing to do, but this time I knew immediately what I was going to talk about. “I think I’ll talk about baseball,” I said.
“This is Primary, you know,” Mom pointed out, “not another baseball game.”
I grinned. “I know, Mom. I’m not going to talk about the game of baseball.” I explained, “I’m going to talk about how Heavenly Father has helped me this season. It hasn’t been easy to be the only member of the Church on the team. But I’ve tried really hard to do what’s right, and He’s helped me.” I paused. “I could feel Him helping me this afternoon. I wasn’t nervous, even when it was Gary’s turn to bat. I just said a little prayer, asking Him to help me do my best, and I knew everything was going to be all right. That’s what I want to talk about—how the Lord can bless us when we work hard and choose the right.”

When I entered the immense coliseum for regional conference, I saw beautifully arranged flowers and, even more impressive, thousands of people waiting in reverent silence. Everything seemed perfect. I found a seat and admired each detail as I quietly waited.
As a recent convert, I was experiencing my first regional conference. I was eager to worship and sing with members from all over my region of Brazil. But mostly I was anxious to see and hear an Apostle in person for the first time. I wondered what Elder Jeffrey R. Holland, the visiting General Authority, would be like. Would a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles seem different from other leaders in and out of the Church? Would he really be a special witness of Jesus Christ?
Before I left for the conference, my husband, who is not a member of the Church, said to me sarcastically, “So you are going to hear an Apostle of Jesus Christ. Will he be holy?”
“I don’t know,” I answered. “I’ll tell you when I return.”
As I pondered and waited for Elder Holland to arrive, I desired to have a witness that this man was truly an Apostle of Jesus Christ. I prayed to Heavenly Father to know how to share my experience with my husband when I returned home.
When the local leaders and General Authorities entered the room, I was unable to determine which of them was the Apostle. There was nothing about his appearance to differentiate him from the others. When I finally identified Elder Holland, I wondered to myself, “What is different about this man?”
After the opening hymn, an invocation, and remarks by our local leaders, Sister Patricia T. Holland, the Apostle’s wife, was introduced. She was assisted by an interpreter, but I felt I could understand her in her own language because she did not speak just to our ears. She spoke also to our hearts.
Following her talk Elder Holland walked to the pulpit. When he began speaking, I was surprised at how normal his words sounded. But as he talked I began to feel within myself a witness that this man truly was a representative of the Lord and that his message was true. I thought about Jesus Christ, who also appeared physically to be like other men but who had the sublime mission to be the Savior of the world. As Elder Holland finished his talk, he bore testimony that Jesus Christ lives and that this is His true Church. The Spirit witnessed to me that Elder Holland had been appointed to speak in the name of the Lord and that he was truly one of the Lord’s Apostles.
When I arrived home, my husband asked, “So what kind of man was this Apostle?”
“On the outside, he seems just like any man,” I said. “But he is really much more—he is a special witness of Jesus Christ.”