Gospel Story Finder

Growing up in southern Utah, some of us sought employment at the many gasoline service stations that lined Highway 91, which ran through downtown St. George. My younger brother Paul, then 18, worked at Tom’s Service, a station located about three blocks from our home.
One summer day a car with New York license plates pulled in the station, and the driver asked for a fill-up. (For you under the age of 30, in those days someone actually came out and filled your car with gas, washed your windows, and checked your oil.) While Paul was washing the windshield, the driver asked him how far it was to the Grand Canyon. Paul replied that it was 170 miles.
“I’ve waited all my life to see the Grand Canyon,” the man exclaimed. “What’s it like out there?”
“I don’t know,” Paul answered. “I’ve never been there.”
“You mean to tell me,” the man responded, “that you live two and a half hours from one of the seven wonders of the world and you’ve never been there?”
“That’s right,” Paul said.
After a moment, the man replied, “Well, I guess I can understand that. My wife and I have lived in Manhattan for over 20 years, and we’ve never visited the Statue of Liberty.”
“I’ve been there,” Paul said.
Isn’t it ironic that we will often travel many miles to see the wonders of nature or the creations of man, yet ignore the beauty in our own backyard?
It is human nature, I suppose, to seek elsewhere for our happiness. Pursuit of career goals, wealth, and material rewards can cloud our perspective and often leads to a lack of appreciation for the bounteous blessings of our present circumstances.
It is precarious to dwell on why we have not been given more. It is, however, beneficial and humbling to dwell on why we have been given so much.
An old proverb states, “The greater wealth is contentment with a little.”
In his letter to the Philippians, Paul wrote, “Not that I speak in respect of want: for I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content” (Philip. 4:11).
Alma instructed his son Helaman, giving him counsel that all fathers should teach their children: “Counsel with the Lord in all thy doings, and he will direct thee for good; yea, when thou liest down at night lie down unto the Lord, that he may watch over you in your sleep; and when thou risest in the morning let thy heart be full of thanks unto God; and if ye do these things, ye shall be lifted up at the last day” (Alma 37:37).
Alma said, “Let thy heart be full of thanks unto God.” The Lord desires that we give thanks. In Thessalonians we read, “In every thing give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you” (1 Thes. 5:18).
We should always strive to increase our gratitude. Gratitude may be increased by constantly reflecting on our blessings and giving thanks for them in our daily prayers.
President David O. McKay (1873–1970) said: “The young man who closes the door behind him, who draws the curtains, and there in silence pleads with God for help, should first pour out his soul in gratitude for health, for friends, for loved ones, for the gospel, for the manifestations of God’s existence. He should first count his many blessings and name them one by one” (in Conference Report, Apr. 1961, 8).
A constant expression of gratitude should be included in all our prayers. Often prayers are given for specific blessings which we, in our incomplete understanding, believe we need. While the Lord does answer prayers according to His will, He certainly must be pleased when we offer humble prayers of gratitude.
The next time we pray, instead of presenting the Lord petition after petition for some action in our behalf, give Him thoughtful thanks for all with which He has blessed us.
President Joseph F. Smith (1838–1918) has instructed us that “the spirit of gratitude is always pleasant and satisfying because it carries with it a sense of helpfulness to others; it begets love and friendship, and engenders divine influence. Gratitude is said to be the memory of the heart” (Gospel Doctrine, 262).
In October 1879, a group of 237 Latter-day Saints from several small southwestern Utah settlements was called to blaze a new route and colonize what is today known as San Juan County in southeastern Utah. The journey was to have taken six weeks but instead took nearly six months. Their struggles and heroics are well documented, particularly their seemingly impossible task of crossing the Colorado River at a place called Hole-in-the-Rock. Those who have visited this place marvel that wagons and teams could have been lowered through this narrow crack in the red-rock canyon walls to reach the Colorado River far below. Once the Colorado was crossed, however, many other severe tests awaited them on the trail to San Juan County. Tired and worn out, early in April 1880 they faced their final obstacle, Comb Ridge. The Comb is a ridge of solid sandstone forming a steep wall nearly 1,000 feet high.
One hundred and twenty years later, our family climbed Comb Ridge on a bright spring day. The ridge is steep and treacherous. It was difficult to imagine that wagons, teams, men, women, and children could make such an ascent. But beneath our feet were the scars from the wagon wheels, left as evidence of their struggles so long ago. How did they feel after enduring so much? Were they bitter after the many months of toil and privation? Did they criticize their leaders for sending them on such an arduous journey, asking them to give up so much? Our questions were answered as we reached the top of Comb Ridge. There inscribed in the red sandstone so long ago were the words, “We thank Thee, O God.”
I pray that we might keep our hearts full of thanks and appreciation for what we have and not dwell on what is not ours. Let us adopt an attitude of gratitude in all we do.

Eighteen years ago, during my first visit to general conference as a new stake president, I learned a valuable lesson in punctuality. I wanted to visit all the Church departments, which at that time were spread over a wide area of Salt Lake City. Above all I had an earnest desire to meet President David O. McKay. I inquired whether it would be possible to see the prophet for just a few minutes and was delighted when I was told to return at 1:30 P.M. for this great privilege. My heart sang as I made other visits during the morning, and the time passed very quickly.
Suddenly I looked at my watch and was horrified to see that it was almost the appointed time. I literally ran to the Church Administration Building, arriving redfaced and breathless. Imagine my feelings when I was told, “By being one minute late you may have missed a golden opportunity.” Those words still ring in my ears, even though I was subsequently able to meet President McKay.

September 2
Dearest Sarah,
We sold some tomatoes this week, and I got $13.00. They’re easier to pick than beans, and I like the way the vines smell. I also like to stop every now and then and eat one—all juicy and warm from the sun. I wish I could send you one in the mail.
I hope that you’ll understand this part. I was in a store last week, looking for notebooks and pencils for school, when I saw this little sweatshirt just Lindsay’s size with a penguin on it. She needs school clothes. I knew it would remind her of you; she still adores the penguin you sent her. It was $9.99, and so I bought it for her. Lindsay was thrilled. She put it on and wouldn’t take it off, even for bed. But after tithing and the notebooks … well, I hope you understand.
School starts Monday.
Love,Angela the Spendthrift
P.S. I promised the Claybourne kids some pumpkins for Halloween and a watermelon.

Set tries to be kind to others, even though people aren’t always kind to him.
“There was a guy at school who had some health problems. Also, his glasses didn’t work very well, and he sometimes bumped into things. One day he fell down, and people made fun of him. I didn’t—I went and helped him up. Soon, he stopped coming to school. I saw him later at his birthday party, and he was in a wheelchair. I tried to help him have a good time at his party. He was my friend.”

I had an interesting experience two or three years ago as I was assigned to the West Texas Region. The stake president there had a son who played football in high school, and I’d like to tell you that in Texas they take their football seriously. They take Texas seriously, as a matter of fact, and I learned many things there.

I happened to attend a game with the stake president where his son played in one of the quarter-final games for the state championship. (They eventually won the state.) I noticed an interesting thing before the game: both teams came out on the field, knelt down, and had prayer. You have to understand that Texas is in what is sometimes called the Bible Belt. There are many Baptists and Disciples of Christ, and it’s not uncommon to find towns in Texas that close entirely on Sunday and bar the sale of liquor, even though they’re not Mormon communities.

Well, our team won the game, and after the game the other team didn’t have much to pray about. Our team again knelt down on the field and had another prayer, and before they prayed all the high school students in the stands poured out on the field and joined the team. They covered nearly a fourth of the field, and they all joined in that prayer. I thought it was an impressive example. I can’t tell you how sincere they were, but I would assume that they meant what they were doing and they were grateful for their blessings.

We may not necessarily use that means to demonstrate our faith in Christ, but we ought not to be behind others in our positions as true witnesses of the Lord Jesus Christ.

A few years ago, Sister Cook and I were in Vava’u in the Tongan Islands. I had just spoken about following the Prophet in the general session of stake conference. At the luncheon following the conference, I sat next to a distinguished elderly patriarch. He indicated how grateful he was to hear what the Prophet was teaching. He gave me the following account:

Vava’u, which is a relatively small island, usually has sufficient rain, but periodically there are severe droughts. The island has long inlets or bays, almost like sounds, which curl into the island below steep hills. When drought conditions left the village without water, there was only one way they could obtain fresh water and stay alive. Over the centuries, they had found that fresh water traveled down through rock formations inside the mountains and came up in a few spots in the sea.

The Tongan men would set off in their small boats with a wise elder standing at one end of the boat looking for just the right spot. The strong young men in the boat stood ready with containers to dive deep into the sea water. When they reached the appropriate spot, the wise man would raise both arms to heaven. That was the signal. The strong young men would dive off the boat as deep as they could and fill the containers with fresh spring water.

This old patriarch likened this life saving tradition to the living waters of the gospel of Jesus Christ and the wise man to God’s prophet here on earth. He noted that the water was pure, fresh, and in their drought condition—life saving. But it was not easy to find. It was not visible to the untrained eye. This patriarch wanted to know everything the prophet was teaching.

May I share a personal experience with you? In recent years, I've encountered some of the most challenging trials and tribulations of my life. Life felt overwhelming as I grappled with the responsibility of holding my family together, losing my dad, the pressures of work, and the demands of building a house, all while feeling deeply isolated. In the midst of it all, I lost sight of a crucial aspect—keeping Jesus Christ at the center of my life.

One Sunday as I sat in church, feeling numb and disconnected, a profound realization struck me: I faced a critical decision. I could either embrace my Savior, Jesus Christ, drawing strength from His love and guidance, or continue along a path that would lead me farther from Him. I knew immediately that leaning into Christ was the right path to take. Despite the difficulties, these experiences have brought me closer to my Heavenly Father.

Elder Jeffrey R. Holland shared these words of encouragement:
Don’t give up, . . . Don’t you quit. You keep walking. You keep trying. There is help and happiness ahead—a lot of it . . . You keep your chin up. It will be all right in the end. Trust God and believe in good things to come. . . . Some blessings come soon, some come late, and some don’t come until heaven; but for those who embrace the gospel of Jesus Christ, they come. [6]
I began to deepen my scripture study, listen to conference talks, offer heartfelt prayers, seek priesthood blessings, and increase my temple attendance. With a sincere desire to draw nearer to Heavenly Father, I noticed a remarkable transformation: the weight of my burdens began to ease. While my struggles persisted, I found myself equipped with newfound determination and a positive outlook to confront them. I felt the love of my Savior. In those moments was clarity and reassurance that everything would be alright, and that I was loved beyond measure. It's a feeling of being encircled by God’s love and a reminder that I am valued and cherished by my Savior. You are also loved and cherished by our Savior, Jesus Christ.

Photographs courtesy of Melanie Garcia
On a cold but beautifully sunny day last March, youth from one Texas ward volunteered in their community’s benefit run to help raise awareness for colon cancer. The young men and women were put in charge of providing directions and handing out bottled water and bananas to the runners and walkers. The young men and women also released hundreds of balloons to start the race and to mark the run’s halfway point. “I loved seeing how happy the runners and walkers were when they saw us cheering them on and seeing 300 balloons fill the sky as we let them go,” says Thomas G., a deacon who helped out.
The Latter-day Saint youth were easy to spot since they all wore special volunteer shirts that read, “Arise & Shine Forth Volunteer 2012.” The event’s coordinator spoke highly of the youth and their willingness to serve, saying, “I couldn’t have done this event without the ‘Arise & Shine Forth’ volunteers.”
Rachael D., one of the Laurels at the event, summed up the experience saying, “It felt like we were standing out and making a difference in our own lives and other people’s lives. A lot of people had a blue event shirt, but ours had our Mutual theme on it. I felt like I was wearing a banner that said, ‘I stand up and help where I can and whenever I can.’”

When I was serving as a branch president in a young single adult branch in Florida, we had a young man that learned about the Church through the sister missionaries and shortly after was baptized. He was the only member of the Church in his family, and he did not have any friends in the Church prior to meeting the missionaries. However, I recall that on the day of his baptism, the other members of the branch embraced him and loved him without any judgments. It was a beautiful baptism service. It felt like he was among old friends. And this happened because the members of the branch loved him and cared for him even before his baptism. They participated in his missionary lessons with the sisters. They invited him to attend family home evenings every Monday. They made sure that he was enrolled in and attending institute every week. After he was baptized, they took the time to help him to prepare a name and take it to the temple and perform the baptism for his ancestor. All these interactions occurred in a normal and natural way, and he felt that he belonged.
This was the result of a combined effort from all the members of the branch and the full-time missionaries, as we are all called to assist.

I have been privileged to see such courage shown by one of the young men I was honored to teach in Sunday School. It is with his permission that I share his story.

I first met Caden during his senior year of high school. Caden was outgoing and charismatic with a quick sense of humor. Although he had consistent attendance at church, it is fair to say church wasn't his first priority. Caden's time away from church included hanging out with friends, too often participating in activities that were not in keeping with church standards. And yet, Caden still attended church, sometimes bringing one of his friends to Sunday School with him.

As Caden neared the age of nineteen, he began to think about a mission. He knew his life was not in keeping with mission standards and made a commitment to meet with the bishop and make the changes necessary to go on a mission. This was not an easy process. It meant changing behaviors that had become comfortable habits. It also meant changing friends, never an easy task. Changes came slowly, sometimes with one step forward and two steps back. When his mission call came, we rejoiced in Caden's decision and hard work to become a missionary. On a brisk spring afternoon, Caden said good-bye to his family, squared his shoulders, and walked into the Missionary Training Center in Provo, Utah.

I happened to be traveling home from a work related trip the day Caden would fly out to his mission. As I landed in the Salt Lake City airport, I realized I would likely be able to say good-bye to him. I checked the flight boards, found the appropriate destination, and began walking to the gate, eager to say good-bye to Caden as he departed for the mission field. I arrived at the gate to see a large group of smiling missionaries in suits and dresses. I scanned the group, looking for Caden. Not seeing his face, and assuming he was calling home, I asked the missionaries if this dear elder was part of their group. The once smiling faces became silent and sullen. One elder, large in stature, stood and told me he was Caden's companion. I smiled, happy to meet Caden's companion. The now quiet group of missionaries fixed their eyes on this elder as he explained my friend had gone home a few days before. I wished the group well, telling them to have a great two years.

I walked slowly away, pondering the sacrifices Caden had made in preparation for his mission, my heart broken, knowing how difficult this would be for Caden and his family.

The next day, I drove to Caden's home to let him know of my love for him. I chatted with his mother and learned Caden had something that did not get completely taken care of before he left for his mission. A zone leader in the MTC, Caden knew he could not continue without addressing the concern. In an act of courage, Caden met with his priesthood leader. Caden had a desire to return to the mission field and planned accordingly. Time passed and it soon became apparent a return to the mission field would require waiting a substantial amount of time. Caden had good family support. Caden and I would occasionally grab a soda and discuss his plans. During these visits, it became clear Caden was losing hope. He stopped planning to return to his mission and began planning how to move forward with his life.

Caden secured a job and began taking classes from a local university. He had a girlfriend who was not a member. It was their desire to marry, but Caden's girlfriend wanted to join the church before their marriage, something she knew would be difficult for her parents to accept. Eventually they were engaged and married, and, following the marriage, Caden's wife was baptized. Caden and his beautiful wife settled into their new ward. Both of them were working and began taking courses from the same local university. Neither of them had an interest in attending BYU-Idaho, but as they continued to faithfully turn to the Lord, their hearts were softened and they were led to BYU-Idaho.

Moving to Rexburg to attend school was another act of courage. Unsure of where they would live and how to pay for the expenses of being full-time students, Caden and his wife trusted in the Lord. I bumped into Caden and his wife a few times during their first semesters at BYU-Idaho. Caden reported he loved BYU-Idaho! His classes were challenging, but he was working hard and finding success in a difficult major. What I noticed most about my friend was the light, the pure light of Christ, in his eyes. Rather than forsake what he knew, in a difficult situation of his own making, he courageously and humbly turned to the Lord. The light that shone from his eyes was a testament the Lord will succor us when we turn to him in humility and do what we are asked to do with courage. As Caden acts in faith, he is becoming the man the Lord knows he can become; valiant, capable, and courageous. In a powerful postscript to this story, Caden and his wife were sealed in the temple and recently welcomed their first child, a beautiful daughter, into their family.

My sister, Sandy, and I were playing in the cornfield on Saturday morning, pulling up dried cornstalks and piling them up for a fort, when I saw something white sticking out of the weeds by the road. I ran to see what it was. “Sandy!” I yelled, running back toward her.
“What’s wrong, Jamie? Did you see a snake?”
“It’s a horse!” I panted excitedly. “It’s white with a gold and orange and blue saddle. There’s a gold tassel on its head.”
We quickly ran back to the spot where I had discovered the horse. “See!” I shouted.
“Wow! I wonder where it came from.”
“It must be from a carousel,” I said.
“But how did it get here?”
“I don’t know. Who cares? It’s ours—finders, keepers! Help me carry it.”
“Carry it where?”
“Let’s put it in the old stable,” I said. “Dad never goes in there anymore since he bought the tractor and sold old Jake. It’ll be our secret. Just wait until we get the dirt washed off!” I rattled on excitedly, hardly stopping to get my breath.
Sandy and I managed to drag the horse into the old stable.
“Jamie, I just want you to tell me one thing,” said Sandy. “How are we going to ride this horse? It won’t stand up.”
“If we had a pole like the one on a carousel, we could stick it in the ground,” I said thoughtfully.
“But that wouldn’t be any fun,” Sandy objected. “It wouldn’t move.”
I sat on a bale of hay with my elbows on my knees and my chin in my hand, trying to figure out what to do. Then I gazed up at the roof. “Do you think that if we got some ropes, we could hang the horse from that rafter so that it would swing back and forth?”
“That’s a great idea!” Sandy squealed. “Let’s try it. I’ll look for some rope, and you get a ladder.”
Sandy held the stable door open while I pulled the ladder in. She had found one rope hanging on the wall of the stable, but it wasn’t long enough.
“Let’s take the tire swing rope off the oak tree,” she suggested. “I’d rather swing on a horse than an old tire any day.”
The tire swing came down quickly. With two pieces of rope, we were on our way.
I held on to the ladder to keep it from slipping while Sandy climbed to the rafter. She locked her legs around the rafter and inched her way along with the rope held between her teeth. Then she hung the first rope over the rafter. “OK, bring me the other one,” she said.
With the second rope in place, we carefully made our way back down. One rope we tied around the horse’s neck, the other under its tail.
“I get the first ride,” I claimed, climbing onto the horse.
Sandy gave me a push.
“Hi yo, Silver!” I yelled as I sailed back and forth.
The next morning, between spoonfuls of oatmeal, Sandy and I grinned across the table at each other while Mom insisted that we hurry and get dressed for church.
My Primary lesson was about the Ten Commandments. When we got to “Thou shalt not steal,” I asked the teacher, “Is finding something and keeping it the same as stealing?”
She answered, “It’s wrong to keep something that belongs to someone else unless you honestly can’t find the rightful owner.”
After dinner the next day, Dad turned on the television to watch the local news. A reporter told about a missing carousel horse that had apparently fallen off the back of a truck. “If anyone knows anything about this horse,” he announced, “please call the police or the television station as soon as possible. It is not only a favorite mount on the carousel but also a valuable piece of equipment.”
I left the room, wandered slowly out to the stable, and stood looking at our horse. It must be the same horse, I thought. Then, But maybe it isn’t.
The rest of the day, I kept thinking about the horse and the fun that we were having. But it wasn’t as much fun, and I didn’t feel right when I tried to say my prayers that night. I had trouble falling asleep too.
When we got off the school bus the next day, we raced to the stable. Sandy got to the horse first and started to swing.
“What are we going to do?” Sandy asked.
“I don’t know, but I liked it better when I thought it was really ours. I’m going to call the TV station,” I said.
A couple of hours later, a truck pulled up in front of the house. The driver got out and said, “I’m looking for Jamie Thomas.”
“That’s me,” I answered gloomily.
“I understand that you found a carousel horse.”
“Yes sir.” I led him down to the stable. The horse was still hanging there. Sandy stood in the shadows, frowning at me.
“I know how hard this is for you,” the man said as he untied the ropes.
“Swinging on that horse must have been real fun.” He handed me an envelope. “You come to the fair this weekend, and you can have all the free rides that you want.”
After he left with the horse, I held the envelope out to Sandy. “It’s full of tickets,” I said.
“You’re kidding!” She looked inside. “You’re not kidding!”
We both grinned from ear to ear. And I felt a whole lot better.

Two years ago, the Pace family was able to bring a part of the Easter pageant home with them. A pure white baby lamb, needed for a scene where Adam offers a sacrifice, didn’t have a mother, and many worried the lamb might die.
“When my mother noticed the lamb,” Kelsey Pace, 14, remembers, “she told the owner that I had raised lambs on a bottle before. So the lamb became my responsibility. I had to feed her every four hours, even in the middle of the night, with extra-large bottles of powdered goat’s milk and sometimes medicine, too.
“We prayed for her every day. She is now healthy, and she’s even in the pageant again as one of the sheep with the shepherds who hear the angel tell of the birth of Jesus.” The lamb, now a family pet, lives in the Paces’ backyard.

Karla is a young mother of two. Her husband, Brent, works long hours and commutes an hour each way to work. Soon after the birth of their second little girl, she related the following experience: “The day after I received the call to serve as a counselor in my ward Relief Society, I began to feel quite overwhelmed. How could I possibly take on the responsibility to help care for the women in my ward when I was struggling just to fulfill my role as a wife and mother of a very active two-year-old and a new baby? Just as I was dwelling on these feelings, the two-year-old became sick. I wasn’t quite sure what to do for her and care for the baby at the same time. Just then, Sister Wasden, who is one of my visiting teachers, unexpectedly came to the door. A mother of grown children, she knew just what to do to help. She told me what I needed to do while she went to the drugstore to get some supplies. Later on she arranged for my husband to be picked up at the train station so that he could get home quickly to help me. Her response to what I believe was a prompting from the Holy Ghost along with her willingness to serve me were just the reassurance I needed from the Lord that He was going to help me to fulfill my new calling.”

My parents experienced a similar “nevertheless” situation in 1975 when Zion’s Securities, HRI’s predecessor organization, decided to grant long-term leases on property in Laie to senior faculty members to build homes. There were several requirements, one of which was that construction had to begin within the year. My parents had $3,000 in the bank, no credit, no collateral, and no construction experience. Many in the community counseled them not to try to build a home. One seasoned contractor even told my parents that they should give up the lot to someone else who had the money and knowledge to build a home. Faced with valid and daunting reasons why it made no sense to embark on this house building project, they were fortified by a very powerful feeling that building a home would be a great blessing to our family, now and in the future, and not just because of the financial security it would provide.

So despite those valid objections, they shouted “nevertheless” and moved forward. They borrowed enough money from family members to get the walls and roof up and financed the remaining work with a series of home improvement loans. They gratefully accepted the help of over one hundred members of the community who volunteered their time to assist in the construction. Soon, the home was finished, and we celebrated with a large lu‘au.

My mom wrote 100 thank you notes. The April Fool’s Edition of the Ke Alaka‘i jokingly awarded our house the “Carthage Jail Memorial award for the most historically remarkable contribution to community architecture.” After my dad retired from BYU–Hawaii, we purchased the house and now live in the home that faith built. I can testify that our house has been and will continue to be a great blessing to all our family, for within its walls, we found faith, testimony, love, acceptance, and peace.

As a young boy growing up in Cameroon, Vicky Levannresky Kamlemo loved playing football. He found himself frequently on the football pitch and the game was a major part of his life—even when he was studying in school.
He played for the Galaxy Football Club at the age of 14, and by 16 he was playing at a professional level. Upon receiving his baccalaureate, he was presented with an opportunity to travel and play professionally in Saudi Arabia, North Sudan, and Iran.
But football is a difficult profession—especially for young men who do not have financial means. Playing abroad is also not very easy, and Vicky’s living conditions were not what he wanted, so he decided to return home.
It was then that he became acquainted with the restored gospel of Jesus Christ through his Aunt, Hortense Dajeu, who was visiting from Virginia, USA and through his close friend, Yannick Njampou. Later, Vicky saw his return to Cameroon and baptism into the Church as a way through a great trial; and he believes all this happened by the grace of the Lord.
Today, he has found a greater and more wonderful passion than football as he serves a full-time mission in Cote d’Ivoire.

While on a school trip to Las Vegas, my brother and I were wandering along “the Strip” looking for souvenirs and seeing the sights. We proceeded innocently into a large and impressive hotel, which, we discovered only after we went inside, had a casino attached. We had no intention of gambling, but everywhere we turned were opportunities to do just that.
We wandered deeper and deeper into the building, looking for a store with souvenirs we might be interested in. Built like a maze, the corridors of the casino all seemed to lead from one area of slot machines to another. At last we realized we were lost. The lights were dim, and we were surrounded by all sorts of flashy and offensive advertising. We knew that the buses to go back home would be leaving without us if we didn’t find an exit soon.
Finally we found a security guard and asked him about the quickest way out. He had an annoyed expression, but after giving a disgruntled cough he told us the way. The instructions were complicated, and we had to ask him to repeat them several times. Luckily, with his directions, we found a well-hidden set of doors which led out to the sunlight. We found ourselves on the main street and soon met our supervisors.

It is the hidden, and not so hidden, secret: "What should I do?" a TVA student once asked me. "I hear the fighting. I hear the hitting and the pleading, and I think I should do something, but I don't know what." I understand this sense of helplessness. When my husband and I encountered a battling neighbor couple on our country road not long ago, we didn't know what to do either. Their van was blocking the road, she in the driver's seat, he outside attempting to drag her from it. Both were yelling, each was beating on the other. Our efforts to distract them failed, and after some moments, she drove into the nearby field and out of view. He quickly followed. A few weeks later they and their three children moved from our neighborhood. Need I say that they haunt us? Like the TVA student, we were unprepared to act. What we saw, and what he heard, we abhorred, but none of us had thought to rehearse our intervention, what we would do to cross the threshold into action. And few of you have thought what to do should you find yourselves in an abusive relationship, abused or abuser. Or what to do, being there at this time.

Just two weeks after the group’s arrival, Joseph heard Church President Brigham Young issue a call for volunteers to go out and help the 600 members of the Martin Handcart Company still in the mountains in deep snow.
Joseph left that day with the other volunteers.
In the mountains the snow was almost three meters deep, and the wagons couldn’t get through. The volunteers had to carry the supplies on their backs to the handcart company. With the others, Joseph helped set up a camp to prepare the members of the company for the final effort to reach Salt Lake City.
Finally, all the handcart pioneers were safely gathered to Zion, where they went about the business of starting new lives.

One evening when young Wilford was feeding pumpkins to his father’s horned cattle, a surly bull left his own pumpkin and greedily snatched up one given to the boy’s favorite cow. Irritated by such selfishness Wilford grabbed up the pumpkin the bull had left to give it to the cow. But this action aroused the bull’s fury, and the enraged animal charged.
Wilford’s father noticed his terror-filled son, running with the pumpkin still in his arms and the thundering beast close on his heels. He called to Wilford to drop the pumpkin. “But (forgetting to be obedient),” wrote Wilford in his journal, “I held on, and as the bull was approaching me with the fierceness of a tiger, I made a misstep and fell flat upon the ground. The pumpkin rolled out of my arms, the bull leaped over me, ran his horns into the pumpkin and tore it to shreds. … This escape, like all others, I attributed to the mercy and goodness of God.”

“I had been inactive for at least six years when my husband and I moved to a new town. My new Relief Society president visited me, asking if she could send a sister to visit me. With some trepidation, I agreed. This sister visited me every month, despite her allergy to dogs—and I have a very affectionate dog! Her ministering continued for two years, and it had an enormous impact on me.
“Though her visits were usually purely social, occasionally she asked me questions that led us to spiritual conversations. These made me a little uncomfortable, but they prompted me to decide whether to go forward in the gospel or stay where I was. This decision was a struggle for me, but I chose to visit with the sister missionaries.
“On the day I went to attend sacrament meeting for the first time in six years, I was scared to go inside. When I walked into the church, my ministering sister was waiting for me, and she walked with me into the chapel. Afterward, she walked me back to my car, asking me what she could do to help me best as I grew closer to the Savior.
“My ministering sister’s time and love helped guide me back to activity, and I hold her efforts as one of the greatest gifts ever given to me. I’m so grateful she was there at my side on my journey back to the Savior’s Church.”
Name withheld, British Columbia, Canada