Gospel Story Finder

Four years later, in 2002, my father and one of my sisters died just a week apart. I carried on, serving as a district missionary until I received my full-time mission call in July 2004 to serve in the South Africa Durban Mission. I was in the mission field just a few months when my brother called my mission president, informing him that my mother had died and had already been buried. Can you picture how it feels to lose such a mother? Four months later another sister died.
As a missionary, I had been teaching people about the restored gospel. Because of my testimony, I never worried about my losses. I had peace of mind and hope that in due time I would see my parents and sisters again. On the way home from my mission in July 2006, I went to the Johannesburg South Africa Temple and was baptized on behalf of my male family members who had passed on, and I had baptisms performed for my sisters who had died.

Describing the experience that began his transformation, he speaks softly, with a mixture of reverence and certitude. “I was confronted with death,” he explains. In fact, he was so ill with a liver ailment that the doctors had turned off life support systems and his family could hardly bear to visit him and see him suffer.
On the day that everyone expected that he would surely die, he lay alone, in great pain, close to the other world. Unexpectedly, he was confronted with experiences he now calls “spiritual manifestations.” He saw himself as if from outside his own body: a man in his sins—cynical, unaware, ungrateful, and uncommitted. He felt unclean and unprepared to enter the next world. “I became painfully aware that I could not enter the next world without someone to speak for me, help me, and cleanse me. I sensed the need for a Redeemer.”
He struggled with this feeling for several days, feeling a fervent desire to start anew, to be clean, to have an opportunity to live differently. Then he had a sacred experience that he finds impossible to describe adequately with words. A voice of unmistakable authority addressed him: “If you can pray now, you will recover.” Enzio Busche realized in shock that this was a voice from a real world, whose power and authority dwarfed all his previous mortal experiences. He felt that he was being asked to do more than merely recite the Lord’s Prayer, the only form of prayer he knew. In sober sincerity he was able to utter three words: Dein Wille geschehe (“Thy will be done”). In the twinkling of an eye, his dark and fearful feelings were replaced with a sudden rush of joy and peace. “I know now that I was experiencing what Alma the Younger described when his sins were forgiven,” he explains.
He also received an assurance that he would totally recover.
Lying in his hospital bed, Enzio Busche made three commitments which have motivated his actions ever since. First, he committed to live differently than he ever had, to live in a state of constant awareness of the power of the other real world. Second, he made a commitment to never deny the experience and to always testify of the power he had felt. Third, he committed himself to go to the ends of the earth, if necessary, to find the source of this power and to become a disciple of it.

We so often read about the widow who placed into the treasury her mite (see Mark 12:41–42), I suppose bitterly embarrassed as she did it for fear that it was such a little bit to be given. Well, I saw a widow come before the bishop at tithing settlement and say, “That is my full tithing, $55.00.” Her income then would have been $550. When you subtract the $55, you’re down to $495. With a sweet, humble attitude she said, “That’s all there was, bishop, but it is a full tithing.” And we talk about poverty at the $4,500 level and now $7,500! I’m not certain we understand. There are those who have poverty of the soul, those who have poverty of the spirit—and then there are those who are rich with the spirit, as this sweet sister.

“I fared much better at fast-pitch softball. My most memorable experience in softball was a thirteen-inning game I pitched in Salt Lake City on a hot Memorial Day. The game was scheduled for just seven innings, but the tied score could not be broken. In the last of the thirteenth, with two men out and a runner on third, the batter hit a high pop fly to left field. The catch was certain, I thought. And yet the ball fell through the hands of the left fielder. For thirty-eight years I have teased my friend who dropped the ball. I have promised myself I will never do so again. I’m not even going to mention his name. After all, he, too, remembers. It was only a game.”1

I commence my message this morning with a question: Have you ever taken a vacation with your entire family? If not, you are in for some surprises when you do. My wife and I a few years ago joined our children, their companions, and the grandchildren at Disneyland in southern California. Beyond the entrance to the famous theme park, the group rushed to what was then the newest feature—Star Tours. You enter a simulated rocket, take your seat, and fasten your seat belt. All of a sudden the entire vehicle begins to vibrate violently. I think the mechanical voice which comes over the loudspeaker calls it “heavy turbulence.” (I have never returned to this featured ride. I get all the real turbulence I can handle just flying from place to place fulfilling my responsibilities.)
After recuperating for a few minutes, we journeyed to the feature with the longest line. It is called Splash Mountain. The crowd filed round and round in a serpentine pattern. The music, which was piped through the loudspeakers to the waiting throng, contained the words of the song:
Zip-a-dee-doo-dah, zip-a-dee-ay,
My, oh my, what a wonderful day!
Plenty of sunshine, headin’ my way,
Zip-a-dee-doo-dah, zip-a-dee-ay!
By now we were ready to board the boat which would carry us in a vertical dive that evoked screams from the passengers in the boat ahead as it roared down the waterfall and glided to a stop in the water below. Just before taking the plunge, however, I noticed on one wall a small sign declaring a profound truth: “You can’t run away from trouble; there’s no place that far!”
These few words have remained with me. They pertain not only to the theme of Splash Mountain but also to our sojourn in mortality.

A man in our community had a son who when he was the age of 16 got involved with the wrong crowd, began to drink, and got involved in drugs. One day he came home high on drugs. His father and mother had talked to him several times. This time when he came home, the father called the sheriff. He asked the sheriff if he would come and pick his son and take him to a treatment center in Ogden, Utah.

As the sheriff got there, the father told him what they were going to do. The son was furious. He screamed and yelled and cursed at his mom and dad as the sheriff carried him out to the car, took him to Ogden, and put him in the treatment center. As he went through the treatment center, they said that he must have his parents come down and his family for counseling as well. He finally admitted and allowed them to come down, and got out of the treatment center.

He was married and then had one child. About three years later, he had a problem come up again. This time he called his brother and he said to his brother, "Will you take me back to the treatment center?" He said, "Do you think dad will come up with the money?" It had cost his father $10,000 for the first treatment. His brother said, "I'm sure we can come up with the money and I'll take you down." So he took him down to the treatment center.

Just before we came on our mission I met with him and he said to me, "If it had not been for a mom and dad that had cared enough for me to take me to a treatment center, I wouldn't have what I have today. I would not have a wife and four children that bless my life."

Brothers and sisters, there's nothing that's too expensive for us to do to help save our Heavenly Father's children from the temptations of Satan.

“She’s just a better version of me.”
Months after coming home from my mission in California, this thought was still tormenting my mind. There hadn’t been a day that went by without me thinking about my mission and who I was while I was serving. “Mission-me,” as I called this past version of myself, was better than my current self. Mission-me prioritized the gospel over everything else. She was kind, selfless, and acted on what she knew was right.
The current me?
She was different.
My scripture study habits had all but gone out the window. My prayers were sporadic at best, and though I was still attending the temple and church weekly, I knew I could be doing better at inviting the Spirit into my life.
But no matter how many times I tried, it seemed I could only keep up my spiritual habits for a couple of days—a week at most—before failing. I knew how much I loved the gospel and my Savior, but for some reason, I just couldn’t grow into the person I wanted to be.
I finally felt relief after nine months of being home. I was attending an institute class, trying desperately to learn from The Divine Gift of Forgiveness, a book by Elder Neil L. Andersen of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles.
Just then, a paragraph jumped out at me.
It reads, “If we find ourselves temporarily facing setbacks, we don’t become discouraged. We focus on our love of the Savior and His love for us, and we move forward. Week by week, year by year, our repentance and resolve draw us closer to Him.”
I froze—his words felt like they were meant specifically for me.
I knew that through His Atonement, Jesus Christ could help me. I had faith that He was cheering me on, but I’d been missing one key detail: timing.
See, God wasn’t expecting me to be perfect right then. That’s the whole reason Christ atoned for us. God knows that we will never be perfect in this life, and He loves us so much that He sent His Only Begotten Son to save us.
Instead of trying to become perfect right then, the Savior’s enabling power could help me continue to grow over the course of a lifetime. Week by week, year by year. The best version of myself was going to take my whole life to develop—that’s how it’s supposed to be, as we learn to walk with Him.
I started looking at life with this new perspective and tried again to build spiritual habits. I set goals to pray twice a day and to read my scriptures for 15 minutes at least once a day. These goals seemed small to me, but I told myself I was growing—and that’s what mattered.
One morning, I realized that I had missed my scripture study the day before. I initially felt disappointed in myself, but upon remembering Elder Andersen’s words, I was filled with assurance that I still had time to open the scriptures that day and try again.
I could feel my relationship with Heavenly Father growing. I had a stronger desire to put the gospel above other enticing things. There were days I forgot to pray before going to bed or I didn’t get a full 15-minute study. But there were also days that I prayed more, chose to spend extra time studying the scriptures, and created new goals, like journaling.
I’m continuing to grow, keeping in mind the perspective that every day I’m slowly growing into the woman God knows I can become. As our beloved prophet, President Russell M. Nelson, has said, “perfection is pending.”
As a returned missionary, I’m grateful for the shift in my perspective and for the knowledge that I can grow over time. Even though I slipped from my mission habits before, I know the Lord is pleased with my efforts today—however small they may be. I know that one day I’ll look back as a completely changed person and be grateful for the days that I chose to try again, read a little more, pray with more sincerity, and focus on Jesus Christ.
I hope you’ll do the same.

I would like to believe that the elderly woman that helped Opapo and the missionaries was my grandmother, Malia. She is my Dad’s mother. And if it wasn’t her, then it is definitely something my grandmother Malia would do. She was a convert to the church. She too had a dream. In her dream, she saw 2 personages wearing white appearing on her ulu or breadfruit tree in front of her fale or hut. When she awoke in the morning and shared her dream with her family, she noticed that her ulu tree in front of her fale has now bear two types of breadfruits, one ulu maopo and one ulu ma’afala. It was then she knew that the church was true and she was baptized. That ulu tree continued to bare two types of breadfruits and it was a symbol of my grandmother’s testimony to everyone that came to Fitiuta, Manu’a of the truthfulness of the gospel. That story has been told many times and the ulu tree became a landmark where people would go and see and be amazed. It was through this dream that my grandmother found her voice and never stopped singing in bearing testimony about Joseph Smith and the true gospel of Jesus Christ.

I would like to share an incident which took place during the Vietnam War. There were some who were convinced that the United States was engaged in a noble and justifiable war. However, public opinion was changing, and there was opposition which argued that the U.S. should pull out of Vietnam.
President Harold B. Lee was the President of the Church at the time. While at an area conference in another country, he was interviewed by reporters from the international news services. One reporter asked President Lee, “What is your church’s position on the Vietnam War?” Some recognized the question as a trap—one which could not be answered without a very real risk of being misunderstood or misinterpreted. If the prophet answered, “We are against the war,” the international media could state, “How strange—a religious leader who is against the position of the country he is obliged to sustain in his own church’s articles of faith.” On the other hand, if President Lee answered, “We are in favor of the war,” the media could question, “How strange—a religious leader in favor of war?” Either way, the answer could result in serious problems regarding public opinion both inside and outside the Church.
President Lee, with great inspiration and wisdom, answered as would a man who knows the Savior: “We, together with the whole Christian world, abhor war. But the Savior said, ‘In me ye might have peace. In the world ye shall have tribulation’ (John 16:33).” And then the prophet quoted that other comforting scripture from John: “Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you” (John 14:27). President Lee then explained: The Savior was not talking about the peace that can be achieved between nations, by military force, or by negotiation in the halls of parliaments. Rather, he was speaking of the peace we can each have in our own lives when we live the commandments and come unto Christ with broken hearts and contrite spirits. (See Conference Report, Oct. 1982, p. 101; or Ensign, Nov. 1982, p. 70.)

A student in my Book of Mormon class shared with us his unique placing by the hand of the Lord in coming to Rexburg, Idaho. He was accepted to attend Berkeley, near his home, accompanied with a generous scholarship. This was a great opportunity to go to this prestigious university, with great reputation in his field of study. His Bishop, however, counseled him to apply to the Church schools, and so he confusingly complied. Although he received his dream acceptance accompanied by scholarship, he decided to journey to Provo and to see if the Lord would have him be there. He sensed the discrepancy of feeling between campuses, but the Lord did not confirm that Provo was to be the place. In his words, “I was also accepted to BYU-Idaho, and I said in my mind, no Lord, not Rexburg.” The confirmation came, and he is having many experiences of changing, learning discipleship, and knows why he is here. So should be the discovery of each of us, but again, these are only seeds planted, and true fruit will be gathered when you as disciples, firm, steadfast, and immovable are planted throughout the Lord’s vineyard.

When our youngest child was six years old and in the first grade at school, her teacher gave the children an in-class writing assignment. It was October, the month of Halloween, a holiday observed in some parts of the world. While it is not my favorite holiday, I suppose there may be some innocent and redeeming aspects of Halloween.

The teacher passed out a piece of paper to the young students. At the top was a roughly drawn picture of a mythical witch (I told you this was not my favorite holiday) standing over a boiling cauldron. The question posed on the page, to encourage the imaginations of the children and to test their rudimentary writing skills, was “You have just drunk a cup of the witch’s brew. What happened to you?” Please know that this story is not being shared as a recommendation to teachers.

“You have just drunk a cup of the witch’s brew. What happened to you?” With her best beginner’s writing, our little one wrote, “I will die and I will be in heaven. I will like it there. I would love it because it is the best place to be because you are with your Heavenly Father.” This answer likely surprised her teacher; however, when our daughter brought the completed assignment home, we noted that she was given a star, the highest grade.

On our devotional discussion board, many of you shared your own experiences of being patient through hardships and then realizing great blessings. Joseph Kemper shared:

It was 12 years after my mission before I got married. It was not because I wasn’t dating or that I wanted to push off getting married, it was just how things happened. I was dating as regularly as I could, hoping to get married. As the years went on, I heard many talks directed toward young men about marriage and family (I remember one by President Hinckley in particular). As I looked at the lack of success I had in the dating world, I started to wonder what was wrong with me. From there, thanks to a prompting from the Spirit, I had a wonderful realization. I was and am a temple worthy and temple attending member of the Church who is entitled to all the blessings God is ready to give. Then came the wonderful realization that God just had a different timeline in mind for me which was just fine. I finally met my beautiful angel queen in 2011, and we have been happily married since 2012.

I first discovered the garage when I was seven years old and spending the day at my grandparents’ house. I quickly settled into my routine of playing with toys in their living room. Just as I jumped my toy car off of the armrest of the sofa, my grandpa walked through the den wearing a set of blue overalls covered in stains and his favorite “Ford Racing” hat. Opening the sliding door and stepping over the threshold, he looked back to find me staring at him wide-eyed. With a wink, he motioned for me to follow him.
As we walked across the backyard and came to the door of the gray garage, Grandpa reached into his pocket and retrieved his keys. Slowly and methodically, he fingered through the keys with his big, calloused hands that were the result of a lifetime of hard work. Finally, he found the old brass key he was looking for, inserted it into the lock, and opened the door.
After climbing over boxes and tiptoeing around engine parts and transmission pieces, we stood in the middle of the garage. Grandpa showed me around, pointing to various parts and explaining what they did in a way that my seven-year-old mind could understand. He pointed out the cars he was fixing and what they needed to run well again. One was a 1940s-era roadster that looked just like one of my toy cars. The other was a 1965 Mustang that was lying in pieces all over the floor. It was amazing how much my grandpa knew and how he could figure out exactly what was wrong with something so complex. His stories of growing up in a family of 12 and buying old cars, repainting them, and selling them to make money made me laugh and the stories of car crashes and real fiery explosions astounded me.
Over the years I’ve put in my share of elbow grease in Grandpa’s garage. I would change oil in the countless cars that rolled into the shop, driven by people asking for my grandpa to work on their vehicles. Grandpa would always smile and treat his loyal customers to at least a half-hour’s worth of conversation. I helped clean the brake drums and apply body filler to the Mustang, which soon became my favorite car in the garage. We spent many hours working in the crowded space. I treasured the time I got to spend with my grandpa working in the garage.
When I was nine, I moved away and no longer got to spend time in the garage with Grandpa. A few years later the distance multiplied when my grandparents were called to serve a mission in Hawaii. However, it was truly a blessing. My grandpa finally got the chance to serve the Lord as a missionary. Growing up in such a large family meant that money was limited, and a full-time mission wasn’t possible for him when he was young. While my grandpa had the desire to serve, a full-time mission involved a great deal of sacrifice. I had always wanted to serve a mission, and seeing my grandparents serve and the blessings that came from their service bolstered my desire. When my grandpa came back, the garage was waiting for him. The sounds of power tools and metal once again reverberated through the walls.
The years have raced by, and I am older now. But working with Grandpa is still special to me. Whenever I come back to visit, it seems like there is always a new project or something that needs to be done. The distance makes me treasure our time together so much more.
I recently visited during the summer, and Grandpa gave me that familiar wink as he motioned for me to follow him. Expecting a new job, I followed willingly. As he lifted the door to the garage, what I saw took my breath away. There stood a beautifully restored 1965 Mustang. The body filler had been covered with a beautiful copper metallic paint, and the brake drums were now masked by flawless new rims. Big white racing stripes flowed up the front of the car from the chrome front bumper to the chrome rear bumper, and the shiny running horse pranced across the front of the grill. He put the key into the ignition, and the huge V-8 engine roared to life. He looked at me and smiled, then he asked if I wanted to go for a ride. I quickly said yes, and with that, we backed the car out of the garage and took off down the street.
As I make preparations to serve a mission, I look forward to following in my grandpa’s footsteps once again as I serve the Lord. My grandpa has not only taught me many things about cars, but he has also taught me many things about life. From all the hours we spent in the garage, I’ve learned how to be patient and take pride in my work. Because of his incredible people skills, I’ve learned how to approach and talk to people. And above all, he helped me discover who I truly am. Just like the Mustang, I have been piecing myself together over the last 18 years, and now, with help from Grandpa, I am finally ready for the open road.

Yesterday my friend and I argued. So today I didn’t walk to school with her. I may never walk with her again!
Usually when I cross the street at the end of the block, I look one way and my fiend looks the other way. But today I had to look both ways before crossing. I saw a car coming. It swooshed as it passed, and I felt the air rush against my face. I looked both ways again and crossed the street.
I walked down the street where all the houses are shaded by maple trees. The yards don’t have much grass, but they do have a lot of stuff that I call moss. My friend and I like to stop and rub our fingers across the moss. It feels like velvet. But I didn’t stop today. Today I just kept walking.
I turned the corner and came to the house that has a wooden bridge that goes from the sidewalk to the front door. Below the bridge is a flat, smooth lawn with a birdbath in the middle. Sometimes my friend and I rest our elbows on the railing of the bridge and pretend that it leads to a castle. But not today. Today I just kept walking.
At Main Street I waited on the curb. Main Street is wide and has lots of traffic. But there is a crossing guard to help. She stopped the traffic, and I crossed the street. Usually she says, “Good morning, you two.” Today she just said, “Good morning.”
I said, “Hello,” and kept on walking.
I almost stopped at the toy store. My friend and I like to look in the window. Besides lots of toys and fancy, dressed-up dolls, there are wagons and skates and bikes. But I didn’t stop to look today. Today I just kept walking.
Next to the toy store is a grocery store with a gum machine by the front door. It has red, yellow, green, and white gum balls. My friend and I both like the yellow ones best. Sometimes my friend and I stop on our way to school and try to guess how many yellow gum balls are in the machine. But not today. Today I just kept walking.
I crossed the stone bridge over the river. My friend and I like to stop and watch the sparkling water swirl around the rocks. Sometimes we throw pebbles into the water and watch the circles that form. But not today. Today I just kept walking.
I walked as fast as I could past the firehouse. I didn’t want to be in front if the sirens went off. They go shreeeow, shreeeow! The sound hurts my ears. My friend and I always hold hands and run past the firehouse.
I looked at the clock on the steeple of the church on the hill. I had ten minutes to get to school. Sometimes my friend and I skip fast up one path to the steps of the church. We sit and catch our breath. Then we skip down the other path back to the sidewalk. But not today. Today I just kept walking.
At last I was almost at school. I stopped in front of the house with a sign by the front door that says: “Built in 1726.” Sometimes I imagine myself living in that house way back then. But not today. Today I ran the rest of the way to school. It was a long way without my friend.
I saw my friend in class, but I didn’t talk to her all day.
When school was almost over, I looked at the clock six times. Finally the big hand clicked and moved ahead. The bell rang. I scooted out of the classroom as fast as I could go so that I could get home without seeing my friend along the way. I ran past the old house and the church. I ran past the firehouse with my hands over my ears. I zoomed across the stone bridge.
I stopped when I got to the grocery store. I slipped a coin into the gum machine. Out came a yellow gum ball. I stuck it in my pocket and ran past the toy store.
As soon as the crossing guard nodded at me, I hurried across Main Street. I dashed past the house with the wooden bridge and down the street made shady by maple trees.
After I stopped at the corner and carefully looked both ways, I sped across the street. Then I ran down the sidewalk. I stopped for a moment in front of my friend’s house. I wondered when she would get home.
As I walked up the front steps to my house, I felt something round and smooth in my pocket. It was the yellow gum ball. I decided to save it for my friend. I think I’ll give it to her when I walk to school with her tomorrow.

Years ago, I worked as a senior managing partner at one of the world’s leading private equity firms when my wife and I were interviewed by a senior member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. He called us to serve as mission leaders for the Church in Africa. We had many things going on in our life at that time. We were involved in some very challenging family dynamics. We were heavily engaged in large humanitarian efforts across the world while also managing a large and rapidly growing global investment business. As we sat there that day with this beloved Apostle and reflected on our personal situation, we both politely said that this was probably not the best time for us to serve a mission.

Without hesitation, this member of the Twelve turned to my wife and said, “Lynette, you are going to make a great missionary and companion to your husband.” He then turned to me and said, “You really don’t get it. The Lord is calling you to save your life. You are either going to live your life by covenant or convenience. There is never a convenient time to serve. This is a matter of faith. You either believe that the Lord will bless your life with the blessings you need, as you do His priorities, or you don’t.”

Those words changed my life. I left my company, went to Africa, and later found all that we had worried about was answered and resolved.

Years earlier I had a much smaller but no the less important experience. I was serving as a counselor in a Bishopric. I was looking for a better job then I currently had so I could support my family better. I went to a job interview and was chosen for one of two positions. There were two different schedules one that was from Sunday to Thursday and the second one Tuesday to Saturday. I was called back for a second interview and asked to take the schedule beginning on Sunday. I told the person hiring me that I could only take the job from Tuesday to Saturday and if the only opening was the Sunday schedule I would have to decline the offer. Two days later I received a phone call telling me that I had been offered the Tuesday schedule and when could I start? The Lord was testing me to see what I would do in that situation.
I could have rationalized like Laman and Lemuel taking the easier road. However I wouldn't have had the faith promoting experience if I hadn't kept my promises I made to the Lord at baptism to keep the commandments. The experience while small helped build my faith. Adversity can be a qualifier and bring blessings into our lives if we see them as opportunities and not wonder why me?

Just about 18 months ago, our family experienced a major transition when we moved from Utah to Laie. We were comfortable with our life in Utah. We had great relationships and spent lots of time with family and friends. We had activities, schedules, and routines that were familiar and fulfilling. We liked where we were. When we moved in the middle of a pandemic, every day felt difficult and uncomfortable. The patterns, habits, and processes that served us so well there were no longer relevant. Despite that discomfort, the spirit confirmed to me that this is where our Heavenly Father wants us to be. Through past experiences, I know that as long as we are following the commandments so that the spirit can guide us, everything will be okay. It may be hard, and it may take time, but we can endure these challenges when we build our life on a strong spiritual foundation.

I’m happy to report that we have adjusted to our new life here in Hawaii. The children are enjoying school and have found positive activities that have replaced missing things. Sai is very into basketball, you may have seen him on the courts around campus. Mealani is happy playing as much volleyball as she can. Nawai likes basketball, skateboarding and enjoys fixing us breakfast whenever he can. Keawe is excited to be baptized in a few months, and Kaleo, who just turned 4 last month, is happiest being out and about on campus with his skateboard or scooter.

Our life in Laie is filled with happiness, and on behalf of our entire family, I want to express our gratitude to each of you for the love and service you have offered as we have settled into our new routines here. You have been so welcoming, and we feel your support. We love this community, and we love all of you. This truly is a great place to be.

In a time when it has felt like everything our family knew was changing, we have been able to find stability and strength in our activities, love for each other, and love for our BYU–Hawaii ohana. Many of you may have gone through or are going through similar experiences right now, experiences which are leaving you uncomfortable, disoriented, or even distraught. I assure you that things can and will get better. A strong spiritual foundation is the key.

From 1846 until 1869, when the railroad came to Utah, many members of the Church traveled across the plains to the Salt Lake Valley. They came by wagons and on foot. From 1856 to 1860, many pushed or pulled small handcarts with their worldly possessions packed inside. The trip was hard and long, and the Saints who made it to the valley arrived tired, sick, and hungry. Some turned back, and, unfortunately, many died along the way.
In the general conference of October 1856, word came to Salt Lake City of the plight of the Willie and Martin handcart companies. They had started out late and had been struck by an early winter storm in the plains of Wyoming. President Brigham Young adjourned the conference and called able-bodied men to quickly gather supplies and organize a rescue party. Among the many valiant men who rode out of Salt Lake City to help the stranded Saints were young men by the names of C. Allen Huntington, George W. Grant, David P. Kimball, and Stephen W. Taylor. When they left, they could not have known what would be required of them or what contribution they would make to the building of the kingdom.
Arriving at the banks of the ice-filled Sweetwater River, the rescuers found the handcart companies bogged down in snow 46 centimeters deep. Men, women, and children among the group were too weak to cross the river. Their energy was spent; their strength was gone; and no doubt they felt the effects of frostbite, hypothermia, and extreme fatigue.
It was then that these strong young men made a sacrifice that few are ever called upon to make. They waded into the stream time and time again, carrying members of the company across the icy stream. Back and forth they crossed until every member was safe on the other side and on their way to shelter and finally into the Salt Lake Valley. These young men, by then cold, wet, and suffering themselves, joined the ranks of the heroes that day. They were not perfect—they were probably regular young men with faults and shortcomings, with their own problems, fears, and weaknesses. But they answered the call of the prophet—they were where the Lord could find them when they were needed to bless the lives of others.

I would like to tell you children of the Church to be worthy to receive miracles in your lives. Every day I remember a miracle that came to my family in 1973.
My wife, Mary, and I and our two daughters were living in Colombia, South America. We had joined the Church in 1968. There were no temples in South America then, but we wanted to be sealed in the temple. We could not afford to buy airline tickets to go to one, so a friend of mine asked the owner of a travel agency to give us a 5 percent discount on our airfare. The travel agency owner was not a member of the Church and was not even a religious person, but when he found out why we needed the tickets, he gave us a pass that could be used to go to any city in the United States. Mary and I were able to be sealed in the Salt Lake Temple. The following year, our daughters, Maritza and Liana, were sealed to us.
I know that the temple is the place where the Lord will bless us. Many South American members of the Church make great sacrifices to travel to one of the temples in South America. Some must make a very difficult trip by boat or bus, traveling four or five days each way.

I learned the importance of focusing on people when I served as a stake president in France. At the beginning of my service, I had in mind some very ambitious goals for the stake: the creation of new wards, the building of new meetinghouses, and even the construction of a temple in our area. When I was released six years later, not one of these objectives had been achieved. This could have felt like a complete failure except that, during the course of those six years, my objectives had become quite different.
As I sat on the stand on the day of my release, I was overwhelmed by a profound sense of gratitude and accomplishment. I looked at the faces of the hundreds of members in attendance. I could recall a spiritual experience connected with each one of them.
There were those brothers and sisters who had entered the waters of baptism, those for whom I had signed their first recommends so they could receive the sacred ordinances of the temple, and those young people and couples I had set apart or released as full-time missionaries. There were many others to whom I had ministered as they were going through trials and adversity in their lives. I felt intense brotherly love for each of them. I had found pure joy in serving them and rejoiced in their increased loyalty to and faith in the Savior.