Gospel Story Finder

Illustration by Brad Teare; The Lord Jesus Christ, by Del Parson © IRI
Emma tightened her grip on her backpack as she walked into her new classroom. It was the first day of school. She had her favorite dress on, and Mom had packed a special treat with lunch—animal crackers.
Today is going to be great, Emma thought to herself. As long as—
Emma stopped and stared across the classroom. There she was. Violet.
Last year Violet had hogged the monkey bars every recess. She had called Emma names. She had even stolen Emma’s best friend!
Violet saw Emma and stuck out her tongue. Emma glared back, gripping her backpack even harder. Violet had been mean all last year, and it seemed this year wouldn’t be any different.
“Welcome to a new year, class!” Miss Caldwell said from the front of the room. “Let’s assign seats.”
The desks were lined up in twos across the classroom. Miss Caldwell ran her finger down the roll, then she pointed at a pair of desks in the back. “Emma. You will sit back there.”
Emma sat down in one of the back desks. She hoped Liselle would sit next to her. Or Jaime. Or—
“Violet.”
Emma’s head jerked up. Did she hear that right?
Yes. Miss Caldwell was still pointing at the desk beside hers. “You will be Emma’s neighbor, Violet,” she said.
Violet trudged toward Emma with a frown. Emma put her head on her desk and stared at the wall. It was going to be a long year.
At math time Miss Caldwell wrote some problems on the board for the class to solve. “You may work alone or with your neighbor,” she said.
Emma quickly hunched over her paper, pretending like she was busy. The problems were pretty easy. She was just trying to avoid Violet. She hadn’t looked at her once all morning.
Something poked her shoulder. It felt like a pencil. Emma ignored it.
Another poke. Violet was poking her! Emma kept working stubbornly.
Violet’s third poke was hard enough to hurt. Emma could feel herself boiling up inside. Was the whole year going to be like this? She thought about raising her hand to tell Miss Caldwell. Or maybe she’d just give Violet another glare.
Then Emma heard a sniffle. Was someone crying? The pencil poked her again. She looked over and saw Violet staring at her. Her pencil was in her hand, and there were tears in her eyes. Her paper was covered in eraser smudges.
Violet twisted the pencil in her hands. “Can you help me?” she asked quietly.
Emma looked at her for a minute, shocked. Violet wanted her to help? After how mean she had always been? Emma turned back to her own paper. Violet could work alone. She didn’t deserve Emma’s help, even if she was her neighbor!
Emma silently faced forward. She could hear Violet crying softly next to her. The scriptures always said to love her neighbor—but Violet was different! Emma was only sitting next to her in class!
Emma went back to her own work. Then she stopped. Maybe Violet wasn’t different. Maybe when the scriptures said to love your neighbor, they meant everyone. Even the mean ones. Even if it was hard.
Emma sighed and slowly put her pencil down. She turned to Violet and tried her best to smile. “Can I help?” she asked.
Violet nodded, wiping her tears away with her hand.
Emma leaned over Violet’s paper and started helping with the first problem. She already had a warm feeling inside her. She wondered if Violet liked animal crackers.

It was my experience as a small boy to come under the influence of a most effective and inspired teacher who listened to us and who loved us. Her name was Lucy Gertsch. In our Sunday School class, she taught us concerning the Creation of the world, the Fall of Adam, the atoning sacrifice of Jesus. She brought to her classroom as honored guests Moses, Joshua, Peter, Thomas, Paul, and, of course, Christ. Though we did not see them, we learned to love, honor, and emulate them.

Never was her teaching so dynamic nor its impact more everlasting as one Sunday morning when she sadly announced to us the passing of a classmate’s mother. We had missed Billy that morning but did not know the reason for his absence.

The lesson featured the theme “It is more blessed to give than to receive” (Acts 20:35). Midway through the lesson, our teacher closed the manual and opened our eyes and our ears and our hearts to the glory of God. She asked, “How much money do we have in our class party fund?”

Depression days prompted a proud answer: “Four dollars and seventy-five cents.”

Then ever so gently she suggested, “Billy’s family is hard pressed and grief stricken. What would you think of the possibility of visiting the family members this morning and giving to them your fund?”

Ever shall I remember the tiny band walking those three city blocks, entering Billy’s home, greeting him, his brother, sisters, and father. Noticeably absent was his mother. Always I shall treasure the tears which glistened in the eyes of all as the white envelope containing our precious party fund passed from the delicate hand of our teacher to the needy hand of a grief-stricken father.

We fairly skipped our way back to the chapel. Our hearts were lighter than they had ever been, our joy more full, our understanding more profound. A God-inspired teacher had taught her boys and girls an eternal lesson of divine truth: “It is more blessed to give than to receive.”

Well could we have paraphrased the words of the disciples on the way to Emmaus: “Did not our heart burn within us … while [she] opened to us the scriptures?” (Luke 24:32).

Lucy Gertsch knew each of her students. She unfailingly called on those who missed a Sunday or who just didn’t come. We knew she cared about us. None of us has ever forgotten her or the lessons she taught.

Many, many years later, when Lucy was nearing the end of her life, I visited with her. We reminisced concerning those days so long before when she had been our teacher. We spoke of each member of our class and discussed what each one was now doing. Her love and caring spanned a lifetime.

Once there was a man who enjoyed taking evening walks around his neighborhood. He particularly looked forward to walking past his neighbor’s house. This neighbor kept his lawn perfectly manicured, flowers always in bloom, the trees healthy and shady. It was obvious that the neighbor made every effort to have a beautiful lawn.
But one day as the man was walking past his neighbor’s house, he noticed in the middle of this beautiful lawn a single, enormous, yellow dandelion weed.
It looked so out of place that it surprised him. Why didn’t his neighbor pull it out? Couldn’t he see it? Didn’t he know that the dandelion could cast seeds that could give root to dozens of additional weeds?
This solitary dandelion bothered him beyond description, and he wanted to do something about it. Should he just pluck it out? Or spray it with weed killer? Perhaps if he went under cover of night, he could remove it secretly.
These thoughts totally occupied his mind as he walked toward his own home. He entered his house without even glancing at his own front yard—which was blanketed with hundreds of yellow dandelions.
Does this story remind us of the words of the Savior?
“Why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother’s eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye? …
“… First cast out the beam out of thine own eye; and then shalt thou see clearly to cast out the mote out of thy brother’s eye.”2

They’ll both tell you that the Church and its teachings have helped them in every phase of their lives. From the time they first became brothers, gospel teachings were evident. Brent was adopted as a baby, and Bill, along with his sister Karla, was adopted from Korea at the age of five. In preparing five-year-old Brent for his new brother and sister, their father, Roland Hiltscher, told him, “You know, your toys and things will be new to them when they first come. What will you do if they break them?”

“I’d tell them that’s all right, because sometimes I break them too,” responded Brent.
More recently, their church experience helped them with their election. Since they’d been brought up giving talks in church, they weren’t too nervous when they had to give speeches to the entire student body. And they say that leadership positions in the Church help them with leadership positions at school.
The brothers claim that seminary has also helped them. “Going to church just once a week wouldn’t cut it,” says Brent. “Around school, it’s not always easy thinking about church things. But if you go to seminary every day, it helps you keep your mind where it should be.”
With all that involvement, however, they don’t flaunt their religion. “I don’t run around saying, ‘Ho—I’m a Mormon, so I’m cool, and you’re not,’” Bill says. “But I don’t try to hide it from anyone. It’s just a fact of my life—like having dark hair. If other people accept it, fine. If they don’t, that’s fine too.”
People usually accept it. Mormonism is pretty widespread in southern California, and most people have at least a marginal knowledge of it. But there are some people in the community who are decidedly anti-Mormon. How do Brent and Bill handle that? “Some of our friends hear wild, terrible stories about the things we supposedly believe, but most of them realize that what they’ve been told is wrong,” says Brent. “They get a pretty good impression of what Mormons are about and what we do by the way we act.”
But there is also a lonely side to being known as LDS. As well liked as the Hiltschers are, there are some activities, particularly on the weekends, that the brothers are excluded from. “Sometimes we wish there wouldn’t be drinking at the parties so we would go,” Brent explained. “But it’s not like we wish we could drink. A lot of weekends, we just go our separate ways from our school friends.”
What do they do then? They found an answer one weekend when they decided to throw a party of their own. They had lots of games, lots of food, and lots of fun. That showed their school friends that you can have fun without drinking. The Hiltschers are also heavily involved in Church and school activities, homework, stake dances, service projects, part-time jobs (Bill tutors, Brent assists their father with his professional photography). They don’t have an awful lot of time to sit around and mope.
Now, just because these two brothers share the same standards and values doesn’t necessarily mean they’re clones of each other. “We both have a lot of strengths and weaknesses,” says Bill. “But it seems that my weaknesses are Brent’s strengths, and vice versa. I sometimes think that a better person would be made if you combined us both in one. For example, in academics, Brent seems to have this talent for English, history, and social science, while I have a talent for math and sciences.”
And the differences don’t stop there. They range from taste in food (Brent likes it plain and simple, Bill likes it hot and spicy) to basic personality types—Bill goes more with his mind, while Brent goes more with his heart. Bill leans more toward being intellectual, while Brent leans more toward being athletic, although they’ve both participated in sports and get good grades. Their differences show, though, that there is not one ideal way to be in order to be accepted.
Fitting in with your family is another important aspect of acceptance that the Hiltschers talk about. “Our parents are really supportive of the things we do, but we had to earn their trust,” Brent says. “Back in junior high, it seemed like they wouldn’t let us do anything we wanted to, but now they trust us.”
How did they earn that trust? “By hanging around with good people who have the same standards we do, for one thing,” says Bill. “Our parents know that we won’t go out looking for trouble with our friends. We also always try to be where we say we’ll be when we say we’ll be there, and we call if we’re going to be late. That helps,” he adds.
All this doesn’t mean these two are perfect, by any stretch of the imagination, and they’ll be the first to tell you that. Like any brothers, especially so close in age (they’re four months apart), they have their fights. And fears and pressures affect them as much as anyone else. Brent’s main fear in life is of unintentionally offending someone. Bill worries about the future and what it will hold for him.
The near future, however, they have mapped out already. Once they graduate from high school, they’ll attend college until they’re 19, and then serve missions. There will be more schooling when they return. Bill is thinking about becoming an engineer or architect, and Brent would like to maybe teach high school, or join in the family photography business.
Wherever they fit in the future, they’ve managed to fit in the present pretty well. Their secret lies in Bill’s advice to others: “Don’t try to change yourself to fit in with someone else. Know who you are. Then look around and find others who fit with you.”

When President Russell M. Nelson visited Guatemala in 2019 as part of a nine-day ministry to Latin America, he spoke at an evening devotional, where I was asked to conduct a 200-voice choir. Sometime after we had started rehearsing, I had a dream.
I dreamed that I would be able to say hello to the prophet. After the devotional, as President Nelson waved farewell with his handkerchief to the 22,000 people there, he turned to me and said in perfect Spanish, “Thank you very much. Well done!” Then, speaking to the congregation, Sister Wendy Nelson said, “I didn’t know you had a Tabernacle Choir in Guatemala!”

Let us walk these clearly defined paths. To help us do so we can follow the shortest sermon in the world. It can be found on a common traffic sign. It reads, “Keep Right.”

This advice was found and followed by Joe, who had been asked to get up at six in the morning and drive a crippled child 50 miles to a hospital. He didn’t want to do it, but he didn’t know how to say no. A woman carried the child out to the car and set him next to the driver’s seat, mumbling thanks through her tears. Joe said everything would be all right and drove off quickly.

After a mile or so, the child inquired shyly, “You’re God, aren’t you?”

“I’m afraid not, little fellow,” replied Joe.

“I thought you must be God,” said the child. “I heard Mother praying next to my bed and asking God to help me get to the hospital, so I could get well and play with the other boys. Do you work for God?”

“Sometimes, I guess,” said Joe, “but not regularly. I think I’m going to work for Him a lot more from now on.”

In 1981, Julia was introduced to the Church. The missionaries, performing community service in Soweto, found a boys’ center in desperate need of repair. For several weeks they cleaned up the premises.3

One day, Julia was asked to serve at that same boys’ club. When she arrived, she was astonished to see “two white boys hurling their spades into the brown dust.” The missionaries asked if they could come to her home and deliver a message. Three days later, Elders David McCombs and Joel Heaton showed up wearing their missionary attire and name tags.

Julia said that the first two missionary lessons “went in one ear and out the other.” But on their third visit, the missionaries asked about a photograph of Julia and John on her wall. She mentioned that her husband was dead, and the missionaries felt prompted to tell her about the plan of salvation and baptism for the dead. She said, “Then I started listening, really listening, with my heart. … As the missionaries taught me the principle of eternal relationships, I had the feeling that here is the way to be with my parents and my husband.” Julia was baptized five months later.

Husbands and wives, learn to listen, and listen to learn from one another. I was amused to read of an experience recorded by Elder F. Burton Howard in his biography of President Marion G. Romney: “His good-humored love for Ida was manifested in many ways. He delighted in telling of her hearing loss. ‘I once went to see a doctor about her hearing,’ he would say. ‘He asked me how bad it was, and I said I didn’t know. He told me to go home and find out. The doctor instructed me to go into a far room and speak to her. Then I should move nearer and nearer until she does hear. Following the doctor’s instructions, I spoke to her from the bedroom while she was in the kitchen—no answer. I moved nearer and spoke again—no answer. So I went right up to the door of the kitchen and said, “Ida, can you hear me?” She responded, “What is it, Marion—I’ve answered you three times.”’”

My husband, Collin, and I became parents in October 2009. By the time our daughter, Eliza, was five months old, we started talking about when we would start including her in family home evening and scripture study. Was it worthwhile to hold family home evening when she was awake? Could she really get anything out of our reading the Book of Mormon out loud?
During the April 2010 general conference, Elder David A. Bednar of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles said, “Youth of all ages, even infants, can and do respond to the distinctive spirit of the Book of Mormon” (“Watching with All Perseverance,” Liahona and Ensign, May 2010, 40).
The changes we have made have been simple and gradual. We play a CD of Primary songs for Eliza regularly. We read a few verses from the Book of Mormon with her at dinnertime. We have started having family prayer just before Eliza goes to bed. On walks, I point out the birds and tell her, “Jesus made those birds for us.” She may not understand right now, but she will.
I’ve found that these things have lifted much of my anxiety for the future. I feel that if I do my part by teaching Eliza what she needs to know and by following prophetic counsel, she will be blessed in the future.

For nearly three years now I have worn a wristband. I wear it in honor of a great young man who has had a tremendous influence for good in the lives of many people, including my own. This young man's name is Tyler Soelberg. Tyler is one of my 29 nieces and nephews, all of whom I love dearly. When Tyler was just a little guy, my friend and I were working on a small project. Tyler walked into the room with his grandpa, stood there for just a moment and then curiously asked about what we were doing. As I began to explain to this 5 year old that we were building a desk, he quickly picked up a screwdriver and said, "I want to help!" This was our Tyler--the helper--always in the midst of doing something--and usually a good something.

As Tyler grew, he was a smart, talented young man, always doing kind things for others. Tyler had lots of friends. This crazy, curly blonde haired boy adored what he called "the beautiful game" of soccer. He loved life. He loved his family. He loved the Savior and the gospel, and had a burning testimony of the Savior's great atoning sacrifice. Tyler was a giver. He served an honorable mission in Albania, and was a great leader there, serving as Branch President. Tyler loved to travel, and could get just about anywhere on very little money. He traveled to Peru and Honduras to work on a humanitarian project. To me, Tyler defied gravity--that's what my wristband says--defy gravity.

After his mission, Tyler attended the University of Utah, where he majored in both Film & Media Arts and Physics. Did I mention how smart and creative Tyler was? Brilliant in my estimation. When it came time to graduate in the spring of 2011 he was invited to speak at his convocation in the College of Science. In that speech, he encouraged his fellow graduates "to be playful, to take risks and to be creative." He also reminded them that life is very precious.

Not many weeks after that graduation speech, Tyler was taken from this earth in a tragic bicycling accident. Oh, how our hearts ached! They still ache. But Tyler's death helped us focus on the great and tender mercies of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Tyler had reminded us that life was very precious. In remembering Tyler, we remember to see the best in others, to serve others, to realize the truth of who we are as children of God.

On Tyler's Facebook page, his friend Daniel Clark, wrote the following:
"My good friend Tyler Soelberg passed away in a bike accident today. I would invite you to tell someone who's close to you how they have changed your life. It's astonishing how quickly you can lose your chance. Tyler helped me understand that excellence happens in the quiet parts of life. He was an example of being accepting of anyone. I'm glad to have known him and I'm grateful for the impression he left on me."

Yes, Tyler was a giver. He had even designated himself as an organ donor, and continues to bless the lives of those who received his precious and healthy organs. Each of us has the ability to reflect the light of our Savior as we live the gospel and serve others. Tyler reflected that light throughout his life, and beyond. Tyler not only defies gravity now--he soars with the angels. He is our guardian angel, along with so many others who have gone before and set such a great example of love and service. He has influenced my life for good. Tyler would have put my fence back up for me, as I'm sure many of you would. Some of you did!

When I was a boy, I used to ride my bicycle home from basketball practice at night. I would connect a small pear-shaped generator to my bicycle tire. Then as I pedaled, the tire would turn a tiny rotor, which produced electricity and emitted a single, welcome beam of light. It was a simple but effective mechanism. But I had to pedal to make it work! I learned quickly that if I stopped pedaling my bicycle, the light would go out. I also learned that when I was “anxiously engaged” in pedaling, the light would become brighter and the darkness in front of me would be dispelled.

In April, the branch started a Young Women program. At first there was only one participant: me! Even when I didn’t go, the teacher would wait for me. That seemed strange, too. Why was she so patient? Why did she wait so long even when she wasn’t sure I’d show up?
About that time, the mission presidents changed and the Suzuki family came to Sapporo. There was a young lady in the family, Naomi, who was my age. We quickly became friends, since we were the only young women our age in the branch. She set a good example for me, and with her as a guide, I began to understand the patience of our teacher and the beauty of the gospel. Naomi’s example helped keep me going to church weekly and praying diligently. I was able to gain a small testimony and wanted from the bottom of my heart to be baptized.

The words don’t do it raced through Joe’s mind, but Ethan’s words were louder.
“Write your name,” Ethan said.
So Joe did. In big black letters he wrote “JOE” on the garbage can in Mrs. Burhopp’s driveway.
When Ethan’s grandmother called him in for dinner, Joe ran into his house, grabbed a wet rag off the counter, and ran back outside. He scrubbed hard to remove his name from the garbage can, but he couldn’t do it. As he scrubbed, Joe felt like he should tell his parents.
Joe ran back to his house and began to cry. He knew he had made a bad choice when he wrote on the garbage can. When he walked into the house, Mom was waiting for him.
“Mrs. Burhopp called me,” Mom said. “She said you made a big mess of her garbage can.”
“I tried to wash my name off, but I couldn’t,” Joe said.
Mom was very quiet for what seemed like a long time.
“My mind told me not to do it,” Joe said, “but Ethan told me I should.”
“Joe, when you heard that first voice in your mind, why didn’t you listen to it?” Mom asked.
“I’m not sure why,” Joe said. “Ethan’s voice was louder.”
“The voice in your mind telling you not to do it was the Holy Ghost,” Mom said. “Listening to the Holy Ghost can help us choose the right.”
Mom gave Joe a new cloth and soap and sent him back to finish cleaning the garbage can. Joe went to Mrs. Burhopp and apologized, and then worked hard to clean the can.
Mrs. Burhopp came out to see Joe’s progress. When there was only a light “JOE” on the can, she said he could go home and come back the next day to finish the job.
When Joe woke up the next morning, he looked out his window and noticed Mrs. Burhopp’s trash can wasn’t in the driveway. As he walked downstairs, Joe thought maybe he had done enough scrubbing to satisfy Mrs. Burhopp. But when Mom pulled out a small bucket of paint and a paintbrush, Joe knew he would need to repaint the garbage can.
As Joe painted, he thought about his bad choice. But he knew that he would do better next time by listening to the Holy Ghost when he had a choice to make.

In the Mormon Message “Become,” Clark Manmureen tells his story of finding success after his father passed away when he was 11, and he lost his mother three years later. To achieve most success, Clark had to take initiative. To earn money for college, Clark started a landscaping company. In a few years, he was able to pay for all of his undergraduate degree with the money he earned.
After two years working as a general contractor, Clark decided to start his own company. During this time, he was faced with many challenges that required him to learn something new or difficult. He relied heavily on Heavenly Father to help him learn the skills he needed in his fledgling business. Today he thanks the Lord for the success of his business. “The Spirit is not only there to teach you spiritual things,” Clark says. “It’s there to help you learn skills.”
Offer frequent and sincere prayers. While building the ship, Nephi “[prayed] oft unto the Lord” (1 Nephi 18:3) in order to be shown each step and receive revelation. Clark likewise utilized prayer as he started his business. “There were moments on one of the jobs that I just had to say a prayer,” Clark recalls. “I said, ‘Help me figure this out. I don’t know what to do.’ And sure enough, within the next couple of hours, I was able to solve the problem, and it was fixed.” As we pray to the Lord for help in developing a specific practical skill, He will give us the direction we need.
Show humility. The Lord’s way of constructing a ship was different from the way that most boats were constructed in Nephi’s time. Nephi writes, “I … did not work the timbers after the manner which was learned by man, neither did I build the ship after the manner of men; but I did build it after the manner which the Lord had shown unto me” (1 Nephi 18:2). In this, Nephi’s lack of formal training in boat construction actually benefitted him. It forced him to approach the Lord in humility instead of leaning “unto [his] own understanding” (Proverbs 3:5). Of his own experiences, Clark says, “Relying on Heavenly Father to help you through [challenges]—it’s humbling. It’s hard knowing that you’re not always in control. But He has better plans.”
Be patient. Skills do not come immediately, even with the Lord’s help. Nephi likely confronted many trials as he built the ship, because he had to “go into the mount oft” (1 Nephi 18:3) to commune with the Lord. When starting his company, Clark likewise faced many challenges. “You make mistakes,” Clark says. “Through trial and error, you figure out what works best, what you need to change.” When you’re patient through times of trial and continue to return to the Lord for assistance, it allows Him to teach you the necessary skills in His time and His way.
Be willing to work. The Lord can’t help us develop skills if we aren’t willing to help ourselves. Both Clark and Nephi worked hard to achieve their goals. Nephi had to build much of the ship on his own and Clark put long hours of work into his job to reach his goals. “Being self-reliant spiritually is relying on Heavenly Father. You’re doing your best and then allowing him to do the rest.”

Shortly after I moved into a new neighborhood, the local bishop sent a letter welcoming me to the ward and apologizing that my home teachers hadn’t contacted me yet. Although I appreciated and saved his letter, I rarely attended church and didn’t take the first step back to full activity until one Sunday morning several years later.
Feeling that I should go to church, I looked up the meetinghouse closest to me and headed off, alone and nervous. The parking lot was full. I pulled in, feeling like an out-of-place stranger labeled “less active.” As I approached the back doors, a woman ahead of me struggled with an unwieldy baby carrier while shepherding another child alongside her. Despite her full load, she held the door open for me with a smile and said, “Hi, I’m Sally!” Caught off guard by her friendliness, I returned the greeting. Sally continued down the hall, leaving me glad I had come.
When the bishop announced the blessing of new babies during fast and testimony meeting, I was surprised to see my new friend give the baby to her husband to take to the front. Her newborn was being blessed that day, and she had still taken the time to greet me! I sheepishly reflected that if I had just had a new baby, welcoming an unknown woman to church would be the last of my concerns.
Becoming active was a gradual process, but Sally and other thoughtful members continued to befriend me. Diligent visiting teachers set up appointment after appointment. Friendly ward members called to tell me about stake conference or changes in the meeting schedule. Single adult leaders consistently invited me to activities, even when they knew my polite “Maybe I’ll come” really meant “Don’t plan on me.” And eventually their efforts were rewarded.
Although Sally’s simple greeting took no planning and very little time, her kind act helped open the door for me to enjoy the blessings of Church activity. Many years later I still reflect often upon the results of Sally’s smile.

A sign in the Smiths’ front yard says “Smiths’ Blissful Acres.” Blissful means “happy,” and the Smiths have found that working and playing together make them happy. They live in a house that was once a barn on 10 acres (4 ha) amid brush-covered hills. Here you’ll find a tree house with a rope swing, a pond with canoes, a vegetable garden, a fruit orchard, steers, chickens, and a big dog named Rascal. You’ll also find ten-year-old Daniel, eight-year-old Steven, and six-year-old Alysa Smith. They have four older brothers, an older sister, and lots of cousins. They love being part of a large family.
On Saturday, October 25, 2003, a small fire started 18 miles from the Smiths’ home. But in a few days the wind had turned the small fire into the largest fire in the history of California. By Tuesday, the fire was burning toward Smiths’ Blissful Acres.
“The sky was orange,” Alysa says, “and the sun looked dark red. We wore masks over our noses and mouths because of the smoke and ash in the air.”
Daniel, Steven, and Alysa packed their clothes and stuffed animals. Because it feared the fire, “one of our steers broke the chain on his halter and went under the fence,” Daniel says. “Rascal helped us get the steer back into the corral.”
When the Smiths had to evacuate, they had to leave the steers and chickens behind. “We raise the steers to sell and pay for our missions,” Steven says. “We were scared that everything would burn.”
Before they left, the Smiths knelt in family prayer. “We prayed for the Lord to bless us and our house and animals,” says Daniel, Steven, and Alysa’s dad, Jeff. “We had done all we could do and then left it in Heavenly Father’s hands.”
“We felt better after our prayer,” Steven says. “I felt the Spirit. Mom helped us feel calm, too.”
At 7:30 p.m. the Smiths got into their two cars and a truck to drive the 30 minutes to a friend’s house in the desert. “Rascal wouldn’t get in the car,” Alysa says. “Some of us were crying, and we were scared Rascal would die in the fire.”
The firefighters worked for four days to protect the town of Julian from the fire. One firefighter died. More than 700 houses burned in the hills around Julian, but the town was saved.
Though the roaring fire raced toward Smiths’ Blissful Acres, the firefighters stopped it two miles before it got there. When the Smiths came home on Saturday, they were so happy that the animals and the house were safe. But Rascal was still missing. Five days later, a man from the animal control center called and said Rascal was there.
“When my mom brought Rascal home, we all jumped on him and hugged him,” Daniel says. “We were so happy.”
During the weeks after the fire, Daniel, Steven, and Alysa helped at the disaster center in Julian. As people donated clothing and supplies, and others sorted the donations into boxes, the Smith children carried the boxes up or down the stairs to the assigned areas.
Since the fire, the Smiths are more grateful than ever for their family, home, and the Church. They express gratitude in their family prayers at the beginning and end of every day. After the prayer, the Smiths have a family tradition. They put their feet in the center of the family circle, pile their hands on top of each other’s hands, and say, “We love everybody.” Then they raise their arms and hands over their heads and shout, “We fly high!”—a reminder that with the gospel and each other, they can become better every day.
And Daniel, Steven, and Alysa do “fly high” because working and playing together makes them and their family strong.

Some months back I sat in my office chair reading the daily mail. I opened a letter from Martha Sharp of Wellsville, Utah, and read her entreaty seeking a blessing for her grown son, Steven, who was a patient at University Hospital in Salt Lake City. She described Steven’s spiritual and physical needs and the likelihood that he would suffer the amputation of his foot. Her tears were felt in each word, and her feelings of love marked every sentence. Hers was a request which the Spirit simply did not allow me to delegate.

When I entered Steven’s hospital room that night, I saw a man who just seemed built to ride a horse. Sensing this, I began to chat with him about a Western adventure film I had seen recently. I described the beautiful horses ridden by the principal characters. A warm smile came over Steven’s face. Not until that moment did I note on his nightstand a book he had been reading. It was the book from which the film we had been discussing was made. Our conversation was warm and free from that point forward.

In describing his condition, Steven commented, “I hope they leave enough of my foot so that I can get it into a stirrup.” I assured him we would remember his name when the First Presidency and Council of the Twelve met in the holy temple and that my wife and I would personally remember him in our prayers. I told him that he had a wonderful mother, who loved him and remembered him in his need, and a Heavenly Father who also loved and remembered him. Steven began to weep. A special spirit filled the room. A blessing was given, a heart cleansed, a memory of home and family rekindled, and a mother comforted.

As I departed the hospital, situated high on the east bench of Salt Lake City, I gazed at the panoramic view of the valley before me. The miles collapsed; the stars drew near. I could almost see through the window of mortality the expanse of eternity. One star shone especially bright. It seemed to light the way and mark the path to Wellsville. I remembered the poem from Primary days:
Star light, star bright,
The first star I see tonight,
I wish I may, I wish I might,
Have the wish I wish tonight.
What was my wish? That Martha Sharp might receive the welcome message, “Your son loves you.”

From sacred soil far away, and from a timeless truth taught long ago, came the message, “With God all things are possible.” (Matt. 19:26.)

Once more a gentle but unseen hand had opened a window to the soul, that precious lives might receive blessings heaven-sent.

In 2004 Sheri Dew published a book titled No One Can Take Your Place. She was signing books at Deseret Book in Rexburg. I went down to the store, purchased the book, and stood in line for her to sign the book. As I was waiting in line, I became more and more nervous and almost left the line. As I approached her table, I remember being really nervous. I didn’t say a whole lot, because, you know, this is Sheri Dew, my all-time hero, and what could I say to her that she hasn’t heard a million times from other women? I remember my face turning red as I handed her the book. She signed the book with a little message. I said “thank you” and went to my car. Once out to my car, I read the message:

To Renee, with love and complete confidence in you!
Sheri Dew

How did she know that was what I needed to hear? That brief message helped me to start to focus on who I was, not who I thought I was. I started focusing on who I really am. I started praying to know what I was supposed to be doing with my life, and who Heavenly Father needed me to become. I started reading my scriptures with intent, praying for understanding, and studying conference talks. I started to put real energy into those things I had been doing all along, but now with more purpose. I will let you in on a little secret: if you ask Heavenly Father how to become a better person, He will help you.

For example, a few years ago, my husband and I, along with two of our sons and two of their friends, were driving home from Island Park, where we'd had a fun weekend camping. On the way home, a driver coming the opposite direction drifted across the highway and hit us. While we were not injured, our truck was damaged, and the trailer we were pulling was obliterated. The young man in the other car nearly lost his leg, requiring many surgeries and months of rehab.

It might be difficult to see the blessings in this hardship, but there were many.

First, before the accident, we weren't entirely focused on the highway. Four loud and enthusiastic boys in the backseat can be a bit distracting. But in the seconds before that car drifted towards us, the truck became calm. For no apparent reason, we all stopped talking and focused on the road ahead. This quiet allowed my husband, Jim, to react quickly and swerve to avoid a head-on collision, which would have led to even greater injury and possibly death.

Additionally, this accident occurred at one of the few turnouts on this highway. We had plenty of room to swerve without worrying about sliding off the road. This pull out also provided room for Jim and another driver, who'd stopped to help, to assist the young man in the other car. They were able to apply a tourniquet that reduced the bleeding and saved his life. It also provided room for the ambulance, police officers, and many others to work, as they used the Jaws of Life to remove the young man from the car.

Finally, this man's severe injuries came from the impact of hitting our trailer, but, miraculously, the trailer was empty. Just minutes before we left the campsite, we decided not to haul home our four-wheelers, leaving them for the others who were staying behind. Had his car hit a loaded trailer, this young man would have died instantly.

Yes, this young man had great difficulty ahead of him. But the very details of this accident reflected the blessings that we all received that night.

The Savior taught that the first and great commandment is to love God and that the second, which “is like unto it,” is to love our neighbor (see Matthew 22:37–39). The Four Corners area—where Arizona, Colorado, New Mexico, and Utah come together—is home to the Navajo Nation, a place where, for Latter-day Saints, “love God” and “love your neighbor” have become a way of life. Here’s what some Church members in the area have to say about living the second great commandment.
Yellowman family
“People like being included. They just need to be invited.”
The home of Tom and Gina Yellowman, in Kirtland, New Mexico, is a place where friends and neighbors gather regularly for dinners. “But there’s a catch,” Gina says as she, her son, and her daughter prepare fry bread in the kitchen. “You can only come if you bring someone from your ward who hasn’t been attending church or someone, member or not, who needs a friend.”
She explains: “We kept meeting people who felt isolated. So we decided to have a barbecue where they could get to know others. For example, my niece came. She’s a high school volleyball coach, and a couple of her players and their families came too. Two of the girls on the team hadn’t realized before that they are both members of the Church.
“And there are people who live across the river on the reservation, but they didn’t know each other. When they came here, they figured out, ‘Hey, we’re neighbors,’ and now they have friends nearby who share the same standards, people they can turn to for help or just to borrow a potato because they live far from the grocery store. That was our goal—to bring people together so they can support each other.”
“For I was an hungred, and ye gave me meat” (Matthew 25:35).
The Yellowmans say that the dinners are an extension of a family tradition of providing food to others. Tom explains: “It started one night when we took our children out for hamburgers. We didn’t have a lot of money, so it was a special treat. When we got there, we saw some homeless people in the parking lot. We bought a couple of extra meals and let the kids hand them the food.”
After that, each Christmas season the family prepared small bags of food to give to people without a home. Extended family members joined in, so did friends, and soon they were distributing 75 to 100 bags in Farmington and Shiprock.
“When my kids and their cousins hand out these bags,” Tom says, “they tell people how grateful they are to be able to give them food.”
“One man even asked us to pray with him,” says Toma, Tom and Gina’s 22-year-old son. “That made the experience particularly meaningful to me.”
“We grow to love those whom we serve.”
The Yellowmans also know that loving your neighbor starts with loving your family. That includes Sister Yellowman’s father, Wallace Thompson, who lives in an outbuilding next to the family home. Daughter Tayla, age 27, says she likes having her acheii (maternal grandfather) nearby. “He’s helped me to learn about our native language,” she says. “I’ve also gotten to know him as a person. He’s such a character! He’s got his own style of humor. He’s also very direct, so be ready for that. But it’s been a blessing to really get to know him.”
Trevor, a 19-year-old son, says he helped care for acheii after he had open-heart surgery. “He didn’t have full use of his hands, and he couldn’t reach his back,” Trevor says. “So I helped him to bathe.” As he served his grandfather, a bond of love grew between them.