Gospel Story Finder

When I was president of the Southern States Mission, I remember going to a conference down in west Florida. It seemed to me as if we traveled a hundred miles and never saw a house, and when we arrived at one of those little chapels, there it was filled with 250 people, and I said, “If you didn’t come out of the holes in the rocks, I don’t know where you came from. The Lord may know, but I don’t!” Well, that was literal, and we see that being fulfilled right before our very eyes.

The handsome American youth had only been in Czechoslovakia for a few weeks. With absolutely no language training he had come to preach the gospel to the Czech people in their own tongue. Now the time had arrived to preach his first sermon to a group of Saints and interested investigators. His experienced companion had labored diligently to help him write his speech and had also provided a phonetic guide to aid in the pronunciation of this very difficult language. Now he must face the congregation alone.

When the young man began to speak the senior companion suffered in silence as his youthful counterpart proceeded to violate every grammatical rule in the entire Czech language. However, all was not lost, because his pronunciation was so atrocious that few in the audience could tell what he was saying anyway.

After the meeting, the young elder felt somewhat embarrassed and disappointed until a matronly investigator approached him. With tear-stained cheeks and trembling voice she told him (through an interpreter), "I felt that everything you said was true—I’d like to be baptized." The promise in the Book of Mormon is that "when a man speaketh by the power of the Holy Ghost the power of the Holy Ghost carrieth it unto the hearts of the children of men" (2 Ne. 33:1).

For example, just weeks after our oldest daughter, Elizabeth, returned from the Honduras Tegucigalpa Mission in December of 2019, our family set out on a vacation. In the Salt Lake City International Airport, we noticed a young woman with a beautiful, tentative smile and sturdy shoes. She was standing in the busy terminal all alone.

Our daughters ran to the young woman and asked what they already knew: “Are you a missionary?”

They learned that she was traveling to the Guatemala Missionary Training Center as the only North American to join a group of central and South American missionaries. We also discovered that she would serve in the Honduras Tegucigalpa Mission — the very mission in which Elizabeth had been serving just two weeks earlier. This sister missionary, who had a layover in California on the way to Central America, was also on our flight. [15]

As we sat in the terminal awaiting our flight, my husband and I watched as our daughters talked with their new friend about missionary work and Honduras and their testimonies.

I was filled with a sweet knowledge of the Lord’s love for His children. My oldest daughter was desperately missing her mission and was now enthusiastically sharing her experiences. Our second daughter was eagerly awaiting her 19th birthday and the opportunity to serve herself. And our new missionary friend was no longer alone on the first step of her journey.

I should not have been surprised — but I was — that as we boarded the plane, we discovered that our new friend had a seat next to my daughter who had just returned from her very mission.

At the time, the Church had 67,000 missionaries serving in 399 missions [16] throughout the world, yet somehow, we had connected. It was a miracle.

Our family did not see this missionary again for three months. In March 2020 we glimpsed her in a picture on the Honduras Tegucigalpa Mission Facebook page – standing at the airport with dozens of other missionaries who were returning home because of the pandemic.

It was not long before our daughters received an email from our missionary friend. “With everything happening with the Coronavirus, all of the missionaries from my mission are returning to their home countries …,” she wrote. “I am O, SO grateful for the three months I was able to have in Honduras, and I am heartbroken that I can’t stay there preaching the gospel. But I know that the Lord’s will is to have me serve somewhere else, and that I can still fulfill my purpose of helping others come unto Christ wherever I serve.” [17]

Our missionary friend knew how to let God prevail in her life. She knew the Lord was aware of her and she was willing to receive His miracles.

In my class at school, there are only two other members of the Church. What we believe is like a new world to some of my classmates. They often ask us questions about the gospel, and some are difficult to answer. If we don’t know the answer to a question, we discuss it together and seek guidance from our Church leaders. Once we know how to respond, we tell our classmates about what we know to be true. I have even invited some of them to come and see for themselves how we worship, and they’ve received good feelings about sacrament meeting.

During one conference in Poland in 2010, I met Radu. He was from Romania. We talked briefly, but he soon left on his mission and our paths didn’t cross again until another YSA conference three years later. There we had the time to actually get to know each other a little bit, but I was leaving on my own mission a month later. Radu wished me all the best and said, “Let’s keep in touch.” I didn’t really think he would, but he did. He wrote me letters throughout my mission. There was nothing romantic in his letters, but he became one of my dear friends. And I loved the respect he had for me and for missionary work in general.
When I returned home, Radu and I were both very excited to properly get to know each other—we could finally make it happen after so many years! We picked an affordable place for both of us to meet (which was Belgium at the time) to spend some time together. We talked and talked and talked some more.
We didn’t put any pressure on our relationship. We focused on building a friendship and simply getting to know each other. We always had so much fun together, but we also had very meaningful and profound discussions about the things that matter most. Over the next while, our friendship grew stronger. We Skyped almost daily, and over time we started saying nightly prayers together. We eventually started visiting each other’s country every few months.
After a while, I started feeling anxious because I felt like our friendship was developing into something more. But he was from Romania! I didn’t want to get into a long-distance relationship because a relationship could lead to marriage, which meant one of us would have to move to another country. I didn’t feel ready for that.
One day when I was feeling particularly anxious, Radu reminded me of a simple yet powerful principle. He said, “Let’s pray about our relationship and see how we feel.”
I didn’t know why I hadn’t thought about praying about our relationship earlier. But that was the best advice I received at the time. So I prayed for guidance.
I didn’t expect any specific answer at that moment, but I decided to keep moving forward with getting to know Radu. I hoped Heavenly Father would give me a warning if our relationship wasn’t something I should continue. But over time, the answer I had asked for did come. I had conversations about Radu with my family and friends, and in every conversation I was reassured I was going in the right direction.
Soon I had a funny realization. After having yet another great Skype call with Radu one night, I said to myself, “He really is the best friend I’ve ever had. I want to be his friend forever!” That’s when it hit me. Immediately a voice in my head replied to my own comment, “Well, then you need to marry him!” I knew that Heavenly Father was smiling upon my relationship with Radu. I could see that he was my best friend and that we could be happy together.
So I moved to Romania and married Radu. Never in my mind had I thought I would end up in Romania. But we’ve been married for four years now, and we have a wonderful daughter, Amelia.
I know what you’re thinking—I’m just another one of those young single adults who met my “soul mate” at a YSA conference and things worked out effortlessly. But that’s not true. The reason I tell you this story is for you to stop pressuring yourself to find your eternal companion and instead let God guide you.
Did I go to those YSA conferences to find a husband? No.
Did I think that one of the guys I met there would become my husband? Not really.
Instead I took the pressure off finding whom I wanted to marry and I simply went to these conferences to connect with others and build friendships—which was exactly what Radu and I did in the beginning.
The pressure to find our eternal companion as soon as possible can be so real sometimes. But there is no time limit on eternal relationships. There’s no need to stress over it. Life isn’t about getting married, but rather becoming the best version of ourselves and letting God work His plan in our lives. Yes, we should all go out there, show up, meet people, make new friends, and get out of our comfort zones. But we should do so with the thought, “I’m going to have fun and meet some great friends” rather than “I have to keep my eyes open to find ‘the one’ or I’m going to mess up my entire life plan!”
One thing Radu told me when we were engaged was that although he usually felt a bit stressed around girls he liked, he didn’t feel that way with me. He said because of our friendship, he always felt relaxed and like he could always be himself.
So look for good people to surround yourself with and enjoy where you are now. Because honestly, when you stop stressing out and just choose to build friendships and learn to love who and where you are, that’s when life becomes much more enjoyable.
Radu and I aren’t perfect. We weren’t really looking for the “perfect” person—we were just being ourselves. What I’ve observed is that who you truly are and how you live is what is most attractive to others. When you strive to follow Jesus Christ, you will attract others who are doing their best to follow Him as well.
I’ve also learned that as we become better and have full faith that God is in charge, we will invite His hand into our lives—and when we recognize His hand, there is no need to fear for the future. Remember what the Lord taught Nephi: “And I will also be your light in the wilderness; and I will prepare the way before you, if it so be that ye shall keep my commandments; wherefore, inasmuch as ye shall keep my commandments ye shall be led towards the promised land; and ye shall know that it is by me that ye are led” (1 Nephi 17:13).
We weren’t meant to put constant pressure on ourselves for not meeting certain expectations or milestones in our own time frame. Truly, Heavenly Father’s time is different than ours—it’s eternal. He has a plan for us to fulfill every blessing we seek. And when we do our best to trust His plan and find fulfillment in whatever circumstances we find ourselves in, that’s when we will find true happiness. His plan will always be better than the one we have for ourselves.

Let me encourage you faithful married couples without children at home to go on missions. The Lord needs you out in the mission field. Forget your fears. We don’t expect you to do everything the young missionaries do. In fact, I was in Idaho trying to eliminate the fears of some high priests, and I said, “You retired couples don’t have to memorize scriptures like the young missionaries, you don’t have to memorize any presentations unless you want to.” I told them, “You don’t have to get up early in the morning like the young missionaries do to study, and if it is raining or snowing, you don’t have to go outside until you feel up to it. …” At that point a fellow down in the middle shot up his hand and said, “When can I go? That’s a better life than I’ve got now!”

I do not think we’re less grateful than other people—but we have so much more to be grateful for. This was driven home to me as a young man when my grandfather, who had been the bishop of a little country ward in Whitney, Idaho, told me about a visit made to his house by Elder Joseph F. Smith, who would later become President of the Church.
Grandfather said that they were seated in the living room/dining room combination of the farmhouse. The table was laden with good things to eat. The family was gathered around. Just before they were ready to start the meal, Elder Smith stretched his long arms over the table and turned to my grandfather and said, “Brother Benson, all this and the gospel too!” What did he mean? All this and the gospel too! The food represented the material blessings of life—food, clothing, and all the rest. This family of children—home, family, loved ones—all that the world has and the gospel too. I think that’s what the President had in mind.

A wonderful example of this philosophy was shared by Arthur Gordon many years ago in a national magazine. He wrote:
“When I was around thirteen and my brother ten, Father had promised to take us to the circus. But at lunchtime there was a phone call; some urgent business required his attention downtown. We braced ourselves for disappointment. Then we heard him say [into the phone], ‘No, I won’t be down. It’ll have to wait.’
“When he came back to the table, Mother smiled. ‘The circus keeps coming back, you know,’ [she said].
“‘I know,’ said Father. ‘But childhood doesn’t.’”

It was Thanksgiving Day. My mother’s kitchen was comfortably warm from the cooking and was filled with the fragrance of apples, cinnamon, sage dressing, and roasting turkey.
“Smells good,” I said. “When will it be ready?”
“About an hour.” My mother was slicing bananas for a fruit salad.
I reached over and took a piece of banana.
“You can wait.” She looked up and smiled and then handed me a bowl filled with potatoes.
“Peel these and cut them up.”
I sat at the table and started peeling. The potatoes were from our garden and had a sweet, earthy smell.
“Who’s coming?”
“Eric and Tammy.” She took a roll pan from beneath the stove. My mother is famous for her rolls. They are lighter and better tasting than anything you could ever imagine.
“Carol and June.” She hesitated. “Grandma’s coming.”
I looked out the window. It had been raining, but now it had stopped, and the sky was clearing up. There were patches of blue, and the shadows of clouds were drifting silently over the soft brown and gray colors of early winter. A few leaves were still clinging to trees, as if they couldn’t accept the coming winter.
“It’s stopped raining. I didn’t think Grandma was well enough.”
“She’s been a lot better lately, it’s good for her to get out. She doesn’t like being there.”
With a spoon she dropped sticky dough into the pan. When it was filled, she covered it with a cloth.
“It’s been a long time since you’ve seen her, hasn’t it?”
I nodded. It had been a long time, almost two years. They’d put her in the rest home while I was away from home for my first year of college.
“You should have gone to visit her.”
“Why? She wouldn’t even know who I am.”
“She knows,” she said, washing flour from her hands. “She forgets names sometimes, but she still knows who comes to visit her and who doesn’t. And even if she can’t remember anything, you should still go to see her.”
It was an old conversation, and I had known my mother was right the first time we’d had it. I should have gone, but I hadn’t. I had even avoided it. The stories I’d heard—my grandmother fighting with nurses, not recognizing her own children. Somehow the words senile and old didn’t fit my grandmother. She had always been so strong and self-reliant. She never forgot anything. She sent birthday cards to her children and her grandchildren, all 42 of them. She never forgot. I didn’t want to see her changed. I’d always looked up to her.
During the summers, when I was young, I would work with her in her garden. It was one of the largest and best kept in the area. The furrows were all neat and even, and it was filled with almost every vegetable that would grow in our climate and even a few that weren’t supposed to. The outside edge of the garden was surrounded by flowers and berry bushes. I can still see her moving along the furrows, the hoe coming down fast and hard, her head covered with a wide-brimmed straw hat tied down with a red scarf.
That is how I wanted to remember her. I didn’t want to see her any other way.
My mother was taking the turkey from the oven when they arrived. My aunt Carol set pies on the table and then helped my grandmother into the room. Grandma was thinner and paler than I remembered. My mother put her arms around her. Grandma smiled. I thought about leaving the room, but I didn’t. My mother, my aunt, and my sister started setting the table. Grandma was standing near the table. She was looking at me. I tried to look away. My mother was putting the turkey on a platter. They were all talking and laughing. I looked back at grandma. She was still looking at me. I tried to smile. She raised her hand, motioning for me to come to her. The hand was shaking. She reached up and put her hand on my shoulder. She smiled and looked into my eyes. She put her arms around me and hugged me.
“It will be all right,” she said, comforting and counseling me like she’d done a hundred times before.
Her eyes still held the fire they’d always had. They were still strong and full of love. I knew then that what she was inside would never change. The body might grow old and weak, the mind might fail, but the spirit never stops existing.

Chris Baird was busy changing his clothes after school when he heard a loud crash in front of his home in Utica, New York. He looked out the window and saw a three-car accident. One of the cars was his mother’s.
As he rushed up to the car, he saw that his mother’s face was covered with blood and she was in obvious pain. Chris drew upon his first-aid training from Scouting and used a compress on her head to stop the bleeding and helped wrap her in blankets as a treatment for shock.
Chris called the police and then his father before returning to help his mother, Beverlee. He took care of her until she could be taken to a hospital. She suffered not only the cut on her head but also damaged ribs and two broken legs.
Both his parents and others at the scene of the accident praised Chris for his quick thinking and for doing such a fine job in an emergency.
Chris is a deacon in the Utica Ward.

I lived in Salt Lake City for nine years, and all my friends were members of the Church. I got the idea that just about everybody was a Mormon. I was always taught to choose good Mormons for my friends, and finding them was never a problem. But then my family moved to Virginia and things really changed.
Our first Sunday there I found there weren’t any fellows my age in my ward. That whole summer I shot baskets out on my driveway by myself. Finally at the end of the summer, two new boys moved into the ward, and we became good friends.
In September I really felt alone when I found out I was the only Mormon in the freshman class in high school. My two Church friends went to a different school, but almost every day after school we would get together. If it hadn’t been for them, I would have been really lonely.
At first I didn’t try to make friends at school because I was uncomfortable around nonmembers. They had different habits and beliefs. But when I became involved in sports, I began to make friends at school. Soon everyone knew I was a Latter-day Saint. My nickname came to be “Mormon.” Everywhere I went someone would say “Hey, Mormon!” or “How’s it going, Mormon?” Soon I became very used to the fact that to my school friends I was “The Mormon.” I was proud of the fact that I was a Latter-day Saint, so my nickname didn’t bother me at all.
Because everyone knew I was a member of the Church, I had a great responsibility to set the right kind of example. It wasn’t always easy to do this. I was on the varsity football and track teams. If you have ever been in a locker room, you know what kind of bad language and shenanigans often go on. I always watched myself to see that I never took part in anything I knew was wrong.
Soon everyone came to know I didn’t smoke, drink, tell dirty jokes, or swear. After I began dating some of the girls at school, they all soon learned that I tried to carry my Church training into every facet of my life.
Still most of the activities I participated in were with my Church friends. I didn’t hang around with school crowds too much except in classes and practices because their morals were different from mine. When I did go out with them, I found they got most of their excitement from smoking, drinking, and being immoral, so I stayed around my Church friends.
One day one of my closest school friends came up to me and said, “Dayle, you’re one of my best friends, but what do you ever do for excitement?” That statement really made me think. It helped me realize that even though I was trying to live God’s commandments, I wasn’t setting a good example because I never showed my nonmember friends how much joy you can have from living the commandments. To my school friends it seemed like I had a boring life because they had never seen me having fun.
After thinking about this for awhile, I set myself a new challenge. I was going to show my school friends there were more fun ways than theirs of having a good time. I wanted to show them it wasn’t really necessary to smoke, drink, tell dirty jokes, or swear to have a great time.
I started by inviting everyone to go swimming after track practice one night. We all had fun cliff diving, swimming, and rope swinging. Later I had a few get-togethers—without liquor—at my house after some of our football games. I invited some of the kids to the Church dances. Now and then I went on double dates with some of them and had really good times. I tried to set an example by being with them and showing them how I enjoy life.
After awhile I got very close to some of the kids at school. They were really great friends. They respected me for my beliefs, and I didn’t ever look down on them for what they did. A couple of them even made up a song during my senior year. Whenever I walked into the locker room, they would bunch together and pretend they were the Tabernacle Choir. Half of them would stand in a row on the locker room bench and the other half would make a row on the floor. The leader would hum to get them in tune and then, directing with his hands, would say, “Ready, begin.” They would sing a song that went like this:
We are Mormons, Woo-Woo-oo, We are Mormons, Woo-Woo-oo.
We do not smoke; we do not drink;
We do not swear; we do not cheat;
We do not lie; we don’t even play with women.
We are Mormons, Woo-Woo-oo, Woo-Woo-oo.
After each performance I would just turn red and laugh with them. That tune really helped me remember who I was.
At the end of the season, one of my friends who had made up the song told me that he respected me for living my religion, and he wished he was that strong. It made me feel great to hear him say that. I told him it wasn’t a matter of strength; it was more a matter of getting into certain habits and resisting temptation.
I never converted any of my friends, but I showed them that you really can be happy living God’s commandments. Maybe someday the missionaries will come to their doors and reach them. I hope they remember the fun and active lifestyle that is possible through living a clean life.

Not all problems or unpleasant situations with nannies are the fault of the employers. Girls who do not treat their employment as a job or who do not live up to the moral and ethical codes that their employers expect are a cause of disappointment. One employer said that although she has had three nannies work for her, in only one case was it a good situation.
“When I talked to these nannies before I hired them, they were nice girls. They had good things going for them. But it doesn’t mean I can live with them or that they would be a good nanny. To have someone in your house is hard. There are too many things to measure to know if it would be a good situation.
“One nanny I had to fire genuinely liked kids. But she wasn’t ready to work. She didn’t see it as a job. She would sleep in until noon after being out the night before until two. She continued to do that even after we talked about it. She didn’t see clear responsibilities or put forth any worthwhile effort.”
This employer will not be hiring another nanny. She considers the one good experience her family had with a nanny as a fluke.

For a long time, something else puzzled me. Forty-six years ago I was a 37-year-old seminary supervisor. My Church calling was as an assistant teacher in a class in the Lindon Ward.
To my great surprise, I was called to meet with President David O. McKay. He took both of my hands in his and called me to be one of the General Authorities, an Assistant to the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles.
A few days later, I came to Salt Lake City to meet with the First Presidency to be set apart as one of the General Authorities of the Church. This was the first time I had met with the First Presidency—President David O. McKay and his counselors, President Hugh B. Brown and President Henry D. Moyle.
President McKay explained that one of the responsibilities of an Assistant to the Twelve was to stand with the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles as a special witness and to bear testimony that Jesus is the Christ. What he said next overwhelmed me: “Before we proceed to set you apart, I ask you to bear your testimony to us. We want to know if you have that witness.”
I did the best I could. I bore my testimony the same as I might have in a fast and testimony meeting in my ward. To my surprise, the Brethren of the Presidency seemed pleased and proceeded to confer the office upon me.
That puzzled me greatly, for I had supposed that someone called to such an office would have an unusual, different, and greatly enlarged testimony and spiritual power.
It puzzled me for a long time until finally I could see that I already had what was required: an abiding testimony in my heart of the Restoration of the fulness of the gospel through the Prophet Joseph Smith, that we have a Heavenly Father, and that Jesus Christ is our Redeemer. I may not have known all about it, but I did have a testimony, and I was willing to learn.

In the lead up to the October 2020 half-term holidays, the UK government decided they would not extend free school meals over the holidays.
With that in mind, two Lancashire businesspeople joined forces to form a voluntary group called Holiday Hunger East Lancashire.
They said, “We recognise that many people are going through really challenging times at the moment, and so we, as a community, have come together to provide lunches for East Lancashire children next week.”
Within 24 hours they were up and running and had raised thousands of pounds to cover their costs.
A friend of mine, Nicola Holding, a photographer local to Colne, Lancashire, began participating in Holiday Hunger East Lancashire, and was hosting the Colne Hub for distributing the meals.
When she told me that they needed volunteers, I knew I could help by using social media to get the message out to as many Church members as fast as possible.
I contacted some of the bishops and Relief Society presidents of the Chorley England Stake and by Monday morning they were headed to various designated distribution hubs for the Holiday Hunger East Lancashire initiative.
These wonderful friends and members of the Church showed up on multiple occasions, willing to serve with no questions asked, to collect bags full of meals that had been prepared by established local food businesses.
It was inspiring to see willing volunteers, from the Church and community, queuing out of the doors. Some would pick up the lunches, go to more than ten addresses, and then come back asking if they could do more.
Some volunteers even helped in the kitchen preparing those meals. As the professionals worked tirelessly cooking endless amounts of pasta, sausages, sauces, vegetables and so much more, the volunteers got it all packed in individual takeaway tubs; one meal for each child for each day of the half-term week.
Carol Brelsford said, “I really enjoyed being part of the team. I was grateful to be asked to help.”
Two faithful sisters of the Burnley Ward, Debbie Patton and Andrea Pickles, were heroes in the kitchen. They walked in bright and early on Monday morning to serve. I knew they had no idea what they’d signed up for, but they were there and ready to serve alongside me and my husband, Jordan.
Debbie said, “I felt great to be at least doing something in the middle of a global pandemic.”
Andrea added, “When I was asked to help in this venture, I was grateful for an opportunity to serve these kiddies. I was amazed and touched by the kindness of all the volunteers of all age groups, who cheerfully set about making and packing the meals. They worked for long hours, over several days. Other volunteers delivered the food to the families. I came home tired but very happy to have been able to help to a small degree. It made me realise we have wonderful people in our community, and when we all pull together, we can achieve amazing things.”
On more than one occasion, I was able to help with giving drop-off location details to the deliverers, and sometimes deliver lunches myself.
The stories we heard of grateful mothers, fathers, and children kept us all motivated when things got hectic, when we became weary with the load, and felt we couldn’t get the food out on time.
Jenny Forward of the Blackburn Ward in the Chorley Stake said, “Bishop [and I] felt the joy in every ‘thank you’ from one of the recipients, knowing they really needed and appreciated the meals. It warmed our hearts.”
Jenna Beverley of the Chorley Ward said: “I knew that so many families would be without [food] over the holidays, so when I heard Holiday Hunger East Lancashire needed help, I knew we could use our car and time for good. It was great to see people come together, with what they had, to make this happen at such short notice. What I thought would be a one-hour service project turned into a six-hour quest to provide some relief to as many families as we could, but it was incredible to see the community come together for so many who requested help.”
Jenna’s son Isaac, aged 12, described the experience, “It was kinda stressful to deliver so many meals to people’s houses, especially when it was bad rain and then the phone battery died, so we didn’t know where we were going … but we did it!”
Jonathan and Rebecca Abery of the Rossendale Valley Ward in Chorley Stake shared their thoughts: “[We] felt it an honour to be involved with so many other people from the community. It was humbling seeing the genuine gratitude and relief in the eyes of some of the recipients. It reminded me of the importance of working together to meet the needs of our fellow brothers and sisters and showed me that service brings its reward.”
Janet Leeds of the Burnley Ward, Chorley Stake said, “The project came together so quickly there was no time to think about whether to get involved or not or wonder if it was possible; everyone just pulled together and got on with it! So much love was shared, and hard work done, by so many volunteers that went into the project. It felt so important to make sure each child received their lunch packs every day—so much so that I went back to one house three times on the first day and finally pushed it through the cat flap so that they wouldn’t miss it! So proud of everyone who made it all possible.”
Rachel Pattenden said, “It was heart-warming, humbling and rewarding to be a part of this project. I know it was meant to bless others, but it also truly blessed my children and me. They felt good inside and want to help again in the future.”
What brought us all together was an unfortunate turn of events, but it united us in our determination to feed the 3,000 signed-up children who would otherwise have gone hungry that week. I’ve never been a part of an event on such a large scale. It was overwhelming at times. Some days I would be up and out the door by 7:30 am and not return until 8 pm. As a stay-at-home mum, it was quite a change of pace! But I know that the Lord required my help for that one week. He guided me to bump into the friend that got me involved. By no means can I take any of the credit, but I know that I was a tool in the Lord’s hands. It was my purpose to help gather those volunteers so that essential work could get done—to feed His children.

A few years ago I had the opportunity to work with a young girl named Addison. I met Addison at time in my life where things weren't going quite as I had planned. I was taking a semester off from school for various reasons and I felt as if my whole world was caving in around me. My life was not what I had pictured.
Addison was born with a brain deformity called polymicrogyria of the perisylvian region, which by definition, is a malformation of the brain. The doctors warned her parents and family that she could very well be a vegetable for the rest of her life. Because her mother needed to work for insurance purposes, I helped by taking care of Addison during the day. She was just four months old when I started taking care of her.
When I first met Addison I saw how beautiful she was, but I could immediately see some of the challenges that she faced. She had absolutely no control of her arms. As you picked her up, her arms would fall limply back behind her. It was heart breaking. As Addison grew they started to have physical therapists come and work with us on things we could do to help Addison gain the movement of her arms among other things. I had the opportunity to sit through many of these therapy sessions and would do things throughout the day that the therapist taught us.
Many months after Addison started these sessions I witnessed a miracle. She was laying on her back on the floor with toys hanging above her head. I watched in awe, as she was able to hit one of these toys with her hand. Something she was not supposed to be able to do. It was truly amazing, but her therapists and family did not stop there. She had many more therapist visits over the next couple of years. She had a therapist that worked on motor skills and speech, and many more doctor visits than someone her age should have to deal with. All of these many therapists and doctors were truly angels in her life. I watched as they work and cheered her on. Her family never gave up on her.
Today Addison is able to walk and communicate. She has become the happy, bubbly girl that you now see in this photo. Many challenges still lie in her path but she has been able to overcome so much of what life has dealt her.
I told you of the many people that served Addison, but I would like to talk today about how serving her helped me in my own life. I saw Addison's determination to do things her own way and to not let her disabilities stop her from what she wanted. Her disabilities chose her, but she did not let them stop her from developing and growing. As I saw her courage and strength, she strengthened me. I enjoyed my hours that I would spend with her reading, playing, and working on new things. She became, at the time in my life, one of my best friends. How someone so small can do so much for one person is beyond me. Her warm smile in the morning and happy laughter always brightened my day. She was able to help me make meaning out of my own life and give me the determination of overcoming the small things in my life that I needed to overcome. In serving Addison I found light in my life.

The bed felt soft and warm. Melissa hoped her sister Shelly wasn’t asleep yet in her bed. As Melissa watched the shadows made by the moonlight streaming through the window and across the dressers and beds, they made curious gray shapes on the wall.
“I wonder what the sharpest thing in the world is,” Melissa said.
“Who cares about that?” responded Shelly, who thought Melissa was a nuisance when she asked so many questions.
“Well, it couldn’t be shadows,” Melissa said. “Even though they have corners, they’re very soft.”
“Oh, are they really?” Shelly declared sarcastically.
Melissa lay quietly for a moment, but she kept thinking. Soon she said, “If I wanted to find out what the sharpest thing in the world is, I’d start by letting every single horse bite me.”
“Oh, no,” moaned Shelly.
“Then I’d let every dog bite me.”
“What a dumb idea,” said Shelly. “You couldn’t do that.”
“Pins are very sharp,” Melissa continued, undeterred. “They can go through most anything. Or Mama’s best scissors might be the sharpest thing in the world. Remember how easily they cut my hair?”
“Go to sleep!” Shelly said crossly.
“Our sharpest knife cuts through a loaf of homemade bread in a second. But Daddy’s nails go through wood. Oh!” Melissa cried excitedly, “I think I know what the sharpest thing in the world is. Great-great grandpa Johnson’s sword! If you got poked with that it would really hurt.”
“Will you please be quiet, Melissa, so I can go to sleep!”
“If I could try all the horses and dogs and pins and scissors and knives and nails and swords, then I’d know what the sharpest thing in the world is.”
Shelly suddenly sat up in bed. “Melissa,” she shouted, “if you don’t be quiet, I’m going to tell Dad. I wish I had a bedroom of my own. I wish I didn’t have to share a bedroom with a sister who talks all night!” Then she lay down again, turned her back to Melissa, and pulled the covers over her shoulder.
Melissa was quiet for a long time. Finally, out of the darkness came a wistful voice. “I know what the sharpest thing in the world is.”
“Please, be quiet,” said Shelly.
“It’s words,” Melissa said quietly. “They hurt the most.”
Shelly turned over and looked at Melissa with a mixture of surprise and affection. “Oh, Melissa,” she said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean those things I said. I like sharing my bedroom with you. And I like having you for a sister.”
The girls were both silent for a few minutes thinking. Suddenly Melissa whispered, “Shelly.”
“What now?” Shelly asked laughingly.
“I know what the softest thing in the world is,” Melissa declared thoughtfully. “Softer than shadows and darkness and pillows and kittens and blankets and moonlight.”
“Tell me,” said Shelly good-naturedly. “What’s the softest thing in the world?”
“It’s words,” said Melissa.
Through the darkness she could almost see her sister smiling. And then she felt soft arms around her and Shelly whispered, “Oh, Melissa, I love you.”

The missionaries taught us about the Book of Mormon and left a copy for us to read. This was during the summer, and I was on vacation for a couple of months after finishing my first year at the university. So I took the book that afternoon after the discussion and started to read it.
Page after page I read and read and read, and I couldn’t stop. There was this magic that came from the book. I love reading and had read many books, but this was different. I was captured by the book, and after I had read for several hours, my mother said, “Juan, turn off the light! Your brothers want to sleep.” And I said, “Yeah, just a moment, just a moment,” and I continued reading. Even after many hours of reading, I had no hunger, no thirst, and no desire for sleep.
Illustration by Brian Call
Before I finished the book, I knew that something special was in it. I had a testimony because of three things that I experienced as I was reading the book for the first time.
The first thing that happened to me during those hours was a profound feeling of peace that was different from anything I had experienced before. This feeling of peace was with me for several hours.
The second thing I experienced as I was reading was a feeling of joy. It was not the happiness I was used to having when I was with my friends or when I bought something I really liked. It was not a feeling of happiness; it was a feeling of joy. As I was reading, I began to cry and I realized, “Wow, I like this!”
And the third thing that I experienced was enlightenment. When I first started to read, it was difficult to understand because there were words like Nephi and Atonement that were unfamiliar to me. But after a few hours of reading, my mind was opened, and it was like there was light in my mind and I could comprehend more and more as I continued reading the book.
I learned later that those three experiences are some of the ways in which the Spirit manifests to us.

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

“When I was about seven, Dad sort of hoodwinked me into milking cows. He said, ‘You’re not big enough to milk the cows.’
“Well, I knew I was big enough to milk them, so I said, ‘Of course, I can milk them.’ I got up early, got the bucket, and went out and milked the cows.
“My dad then said, ‘I believe you can milk the cows. You’ve got the job!’ For the next dozen years I milked eight to twelve cows each night and morning.
“Dad was a lot smarter than I was. One day I said to him, ‘I don’t want to milk cows.’ He replied, ‘That’s OK. You don’t have to want to. … as long as you do it.’”

The coming days would try the Saints, including the Whitneys. In a nationwide economic downturn and banking panic, many turned against the Church and the Prophet. Commanded to move to Missouri, Newel hesitated. He had poured his life into his store in Kirtland. Much of the wealth it made sustained the Church. How could he just walk away?

The Lord chastised him for paying too much attention to worldly things and for “littleness of soul” (Doctrine and Covenants 117:11). Newel repented and obeyed. He settled in Nauvoo, Illinois, where he continued serving as bishop and later as Presiding Bishop.