Gospel Story Finder

John’s shoes needed repairing. He had worn them out running up and down on Steensbakken (Steens Hill), where he lived with his mother, Anna Widtsoe, and his two-year-old brother, Osborne. After the death of their father when Osborne was only two months old, the family had moved from Froya, the outermost island off the coast of Norway, to the mainland. They lived in a small apartment in Trondheim, the town known as the Cathedral City. The two little boys and their mother often looked out over the beautiful old capital city to the harbor and the fjord that zigzagged out toward the ocean.
When John showed Mother how his shoes had worn, she asked a neighbor to recommend someone who could repair them. He knew just the right person, he said, and soon a boy came to their door. He was a shoemaker’s son who picked up and delivered shoes for his father. A few days later the boy brought back John’s shoes neatly mended. A strange little pamphlet was tucked into the toe of each shoe.
John’s father had been a schoolmaster. Before he died he had taught his young son to read, but there were so many unfamiliar words in the pamphlet that the boy could not understand what was written.
The next day his mother wrapped another pair of shoes that needed repairing into a parcel, tucked them under her arm, and set out on the half-hour walk to the shoemaker’s shop. She seemed more quiet than usual when she returned, and during the next few days she was thoughtful and restless.
When the shoemaker’s son delivered the second pair of shoes, new pamphlets were tucked into the toe of each one. John knew that his mother spent many hours carefully studying them. The next Sunday she arranged for someone to be with the boys while she went to a meeting at the shoemaker’s sturdy log house.
It was not until some years later that she told John what the shoemaker had said when she went to his shop that first time to ask him why he had put a pamphlet into each of John’s shoes.
“You may be surprised,” he had answered, “to hear me say that I can give you something of far more value than soles for your child’s shoes.”
The pamphlets were Mormon missionary tracts. Because of them John, his mother, and his brother became members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. None of their relatives or friends approved; all became unfriendly toward Anna and the boys.
Two years later the Widtsoe family left Oslo, Norway, with twenty other Norwegian Saints to begin the long journey to America. Eleven-year-old John kept a diary of their trip over the North Sea, their smoky journey across the midlands of England, their three days of sight-seeing in Liverpool, their voyage over the Atlantic Ocean, and the long railroad ride from New York to Logan, Utah, where they settled. There John found many and varied jobs to help support the family. His mother did dressmaking and any other kind of work she could find to provide for current expenses and to save toward the education of her sons.
John was called to be an apostle in 1921, when he was forty-nine. At that time he was president of the University of Utah and had been president of Utah State University at Logan. He often said that from his earliest youth, education was his objective. John A. Widtsoe will always be remembered as one of the great men of the Church. In one of his books, In a Sunlit Land, he wrote:
“There was a real relish for learning in my soul. … The love of reading has been with me from my boyhood. To leave the routine of the day for a visit with great minds has ever been a delight. … I look with half envy upon the youth to whom the doors of new knowledge are being opened.”
The shoemaker in Trondheim, Norway, who repaired John’s shoes truly did give to John’s mother and her family something of far more value than soles for a worn pair of shoes. He was also instrumental in giving to the Church a great writer, educator, leader, and friend!

Not too long ago, I was working on our farm with my nephew Nash. He is six and has a pure heart. He is my favorite nephew named Nash, and I believe I am his favorite uncle speaking in conference today.

As he helped me come up with a solution for our project, I said, “Nash, that is a great idea. How did you get so smart?” He looked at me with an expression in his eyes that said, “Uncle Ryan, how do you not know the answer to this question?”

He simply shrugged his shoulders, smiled, and confidently said, “Jesus.”

Nash reminded me that day of this simple and yet profound teaching. The answer to the simplest questions and to the most complex problems is always the same. The answer is Jesus Christ. Every solution is found in Him.

But years later, I was deceived again and ended up in another abusive relationship. When I broke away, I found out I was pregnant again. I didn’t want to place the baby. I was older than before, and I felt like I could be a good mom. I met with my bishop and a social worker. I started following the same process that I had before in praying about adoption, but nothing ever seemed to click. It always felt difficult.
I still went to church. Sometimes ward members would say they were surprised to see me there pregnant, which hurt a little. But I still went every week. I wanted people to see that what I had done reflected a choice I had made but that it didn’t define who I was. I worked with my bishop to move forward.
As my due date grew closer, I started to panic. With my first baby, I’d had a plan, but this one was so different. I didn’t feel like I was receiving a strong answer regarding any option for my baby. I let the couple whom I had placed my first baby with know that I was pregnant but unsure of whether I would place, and that if I did place, I would want them to raise this baby as well.
After I had the baby, I still felt unsure. Then my doctor came in to check on us and said, “I don’t know if you’ll be able to have children again, so love this little one.” While that may not be the answer for everyone, I felt the Spirit confirm that this was the right choice for me. After panicking for nine months, I felt peace. I let the couple know that I had decided to parent my daughter.
I wanted to be the best mom I could be, and I knew that the only way to do that was staying close to family and the Lord’s Church. I knew that what I had learned in the gospel of Jesus Christ would help her like it had helped me.

Family home evening used to be the hardest day of the week for my family. We would argue who would do what and how long the stories would be. It wasn’t organized. So we made a chart showing who makes the snacks, picks the song, says the opening prayer, gives the lesson, and says the closing prayer. This helped everyone feel like a part of our family home evening. Now my family looks forward to that day of the week.
Kari T., 15, Florida, USA

Many years ago, on an assignment to the beautiful islands of Tonga, I was privileged to visit our Church school, the Liahona High School, where our youth are taught by teachers with a common bond of faith—providing training for the mind and preparation for life. On that occasion, entering one classroom, I noticed the rapt attention the children gave their native instructor. His textbook and theirs lay closed upon the desks. In his hand he held a strange-appearing fishing lure fashioned from a round stone and large seashells. This, I learned, was a maka-feke, an octopus lure. In Tonga, octopus meat is a delicacy.
The teacher explained that Tongan fishermen glide over a reef, paddling their outrigger canoes with one hand and dangling the maka-feke over the side with the other. An octopus dashes out from its rocky lair and seizes the lure, mistaking it for a much-desired meal. So tenacious is the grasp of the octopus and so firm is its instinct not to relinquish the precious prize that fishermen can flip it right into the canoe.
It was an easy transition for the teacher to point out to the eager and wide-eyed youth that the evil one—even Satan—has fashioned so-called maka-fekes with which to ensnare unsuspecting persons and take possession of their destinies.

A personal example to me of handling big, unexpected changes in life is my dad. Growing up, he worked hard on the family farm. On hot summer days he loved to water-ski with his brothers in the irrigation canals. Rather than being pulled by a boat, they would strap the rope to a tractor and drive it along the bank of the canal. In high school, he was a star athlete in football and track. Between his junior and senior year, at the age of 17, he got a summer job helping run telephone lines across the desert of southern Idaho. His responsibility was to check the depth of the lines as the machines buried cables in the ground. But at some point they ran out of cable, so the company sent him to another site for a few days to drill holes in lava rock. These holes were being created for telephone poles that would carry the lines across the lava fields. The first day on his new job, my dad quickly drilled one hole by wrapping his legs tightly around a jackhammer and then chiseling away at the rock. After completing one hole, he had started on another when suddenly there was a large explosion. The company had been blasting the rock with dynamite the day before and some of the explosives had not detonated. My dad had drilled directly into these charges and they exploded, throwing him high into the air. In an instant, his life was forever changed. The explosion resulted in the loss of both of his legs below his knees.

In order to walk again after his recovery, he had to be fitted with prosthetic legs, which he’s worn his whole life. But my dad has never viewed his prosthetic legs as limitations and has found ways to still do extraordinary things. He was active in sports like racquetball and basketball, and even continued his love of water-skiing. Despite needing a wetsuit to keep himself attached to his prosthetic legs, he was still a pretty good skier, most of the time. (And he always made sure to plug his nose on the way down.)

His accident brought on many other health challenges and countless surgeries throughout his life, but one thing I’ve never seen my dad do is complain about it. He’s been a tremendous example to me of how to face challenges and unexpected changes with action instead of self-pity and to make the most of any situation.

Luis bounced up and down in the back seat and sang a silly song. “Please settle down, Luis,” Dad said. “I need to focus on driving.”
“I can’t settle down,” Luis said. “It’s just so awesome!”
Dad smiled. “I’m glad you’re excited to meet your new baby brother.”
When they got to the hospital, Luis raced to Mom’s room. He knew where it was because Mom had been there for five days already. She had to stay at the hospital because Baby Ian was sick, and Mom was a little bit sick too. Luis had asked to see Ian at least a bajillion times, but Mom always said, “Not yet.” She said that the doctors would decide when Ian was strong enough for a visitor.
Today the doctor had called. Today was the day!
When Luis walked into Mom’s hospital room, she was already holding Ian. Luis ran over to see his new baby brother. Ian was tiny. He looked way smaller than Luis’s baby cousins. And there was something different about his nose and ears. He looked like a little elf!
“Hi, honey,” Mom said. “Come wash your hands, and then you can hold the baby.”
Luis washed his hands with special soap. He climbed onto the hospital bed next to Mom. She leaned over to hand him the baby. Dad helped Luis put his hands in just the right place.
Luis looked down at Ian. “Hi, Ian,” he said. “I’m your brother, Luis. You’re going to sleep in my room, and I can show you all my toys, and we can play at the park.”
Baby Ian looked right at Luis. Luis thought he was the best baby ever.
When Luis’s arms got tired, Dad took a turn holding Ian. Mom held one of Luis’s hands and looked into his eyes.
“Luis,” she said. “Do you remember in Primary when you learned about the plan of salvation?”
Luis nodded. That had been a good day. Sister Lopez had a moon and a star and a big planet earth on sticks. Luis got to hold the sun.
“Do you remember how we lived in heaven before we came to earth and how we are going back to heaven when we die?”
Luis nodded again.
“Baby Ian is still very sick. And the doctor says that he won’t live very long. He is going to die soon and go back to heaven.”
Luis looked at Mom. He looked at Baby Ian in Dad’s arms. Then he frowned. His throat felt tight. “But I love him. I want him to stay here and share my room and play with me. Doesn’t he want to stay too?”
Mom put her arms around Luis. “Of course he wants to be with us. We’re his family. But he will see us again.”
“He will?”
Mom nodded. “Dad and I were married in the temple. We were promised that our family could be together forever. You and Ian will always be our children.”
“That means that Baby Ian will always be your brother,” Dad explained. “And you’ll see him again in heaven.”
Luis was sad. He felt kind of mad too. But he thought about meeting Baby Ian in heaven and smiled just a little. He reached out and rubbed Baby Ian’s soft hair. “We’ll be brothers in heaven? That’s awesome.”
Mom kissed Luis’s cheek. “It is awesome.”

A modern parable portrays a farmer who had a wheat crop that surpassed any he had known before. According to the account, he could think of nothing but the treasures he could buy with the money from his crop. Every day he would visit his fields, gloat over the wonderful sea of golden grain, and then come home and proudly tell his family how rich he would be.
This farmer had a little boy who was ill and who begged his father to take him to the fields so that he could see this vast expanse of ripening wheat. The father consented, bundled his son up, and took him out. Absorbed in the treasure that lay before him the father did not immediately notice that his son was no longer by his side. Some time passed before he noticed the child missing and began searching about in the wheat, which was taller than his boy. Not finding him, the frantic father rushed to the village to summon the help of his neighbors. All rallied to his call, formed a huge circle by joining hands, and walked slowly forward, trampling the dense stalks until the body of the boy was found. Brokenhearted, the father mourned over the death of his son who was so dear to him. He realized the greater worth of one individual over the worth of monetary possessions. (Sidney H. Alexander, Jr., “Today’s Crises,” Vital Speeches, 1 Jan. 1963, pp. 185–86.)

This is a change-about story. Color, then cut out the squares at the end of it and put them in a small paper sack or other container that you can’t see into, then read the story aloud with a friend or your family. Whenever you come to a blank, fill it in by drawing a word out of the sack.
From the time Benjamin woke up that morning, everything seemed to go wrong. To begin with, when he decided to wear ____________________ to school, he couldn’t find it because it was hidden under ____________________. So he had to put on ____________________, instead, even though it was upside down and inside out.
“It’s not funny!” Benjamin muttered grumpily when his reflection in the mirror showed ____________________ draped around his neck and ____________________ hanging down in front. He sighed. This was going to be a dumb, crazy, mixed-up day.
Just then Mother called, “Hurry, Benjamin, so you’ll have time to eat ____________________. Your teacher will be pleased if you have ____________________ for breakfast.”
“I’ll be late if I eat that!” Benjamin exclaimed. He snatched ____________________ out of the refrigerator and dashed out the front door, putting on ____________________ to keep him warm.
“Wait!” Mother called. “You forgot ____________________ and money for ____________________!”
But it was too late. Already ____________________ bus was rounding the corner and coming to a stop. Most of the seats were filled by ____________________, ____________________, ____________________, ____________________, and ____________________. In place of ____________________, the regular driver, ____________________ sat behind the wheel.
“Climb aboard!” he snapped, sounding just like ____________________. “We can’t wait here all day!”
With a great clashing of ____________________, the driver raced down the street, narrowly missing ____________________ and a lady pushing ____________________ in a baby buggy. In the back of the bus, a chorus made up of ____________________, ____________________, ____________________, ____________________, and ____________________ suddenly began to sing. There was no doubt about it—it was another dumb, crazy, mixed-up day!
At school, things were even worse. During math, the teacher asked, “Benjamin, what is nine times seven?” and he answered ____________________. During social studies, Benjamin tried to hand in ____________________ for his homework, and it spilled all over ____________________ on the teacher’s desk. And at noon he found that Mother had packed ____________________ and ____________________ for his lunch. “Oh, no!” he groaned. “When will this dumb, crazy, mixed-up day ever end?”
After lunch period it was time to practice with the band, one of Benjamin’s favorite classes. But when he reached in to take his horn out of the case, he found ____________________ there instead.
“Come, come, Benjamin,” the band leader scolded, “Whoever heard of playing that in a school band? If your horn isn’t here, borrow ____________________.”
Poor Benjamin was so embarrassed that he bolted out the door and ran blindly down the hall. On the way he bumped into ____________________ and ____________________. At last the bell sounded, and school was over for the day. Benjamin rubbed his jaw with ____________________ and sighed with relief.
After ____________________ bus took him home, Benjamin hurried into the family’s cheery kitchen. At least Mother always set out a delicious after-school snack. But not this time! There on the counter was ____________________ to eat and a glass with ____________________ in it!
Benjamin lost his appetite. “I’ll just put on ____________________ and go to bed,” he declared. “And I’ll stay there until this dumb, crazy, mixed-up day is over.”
And that’s what he did.

a purple puppy
a squashed skateboard
a green giraffe
a brass button
a prickly pelican
a limp lantern
a cuddly kitten
a wilted watermelon
a zany zebra
a dozing dodo
a pink porcupine
a leaping lizard
a helpless hippo
a jogging jackal
a snoopy skunk
a squeaky saxophone
a broken bicycle
a cinnamon camel
a strawberry soda
a toothless tiger
a sassy snake
an orange octopus
an angry alligator
a happy hobo
a nippy noodle
a crispy cracker
a leaky lemon
a rattling rollerskate
a grinning gorilla
a bouncing broom
a prancing pony
a dippy donkey
a frisky frog
some jiggling gelatin
a bent bucket
a polka-dot pumpkin
a croaking company
a rusty rainspout
a friendly fox
a dimpled doughnut
a quirky quince
an exotic explorer

Illustrated by Shauna Mooney Kawasaki
It’s raining! May we play outside?
Yes, but put on your rain boots and raincoats and rain hats first. This is a cold April rain.
I’m not wearing all that stuff.
This is fun!
What’s so fun about it?
Oh, Matt—we’d better get you out of those wet things.
Are you going to punish me?
You’ve punished yourself, Matt. I give you rules to help you be happy, not to keep you from having fun.
That’s why Heavenly Father gives us commandments too.
Can I have a cough drop?

Earlier I mentioned Sister Andersen and her Beehive Girl’s Handbook. She is the wife of Elder Neil L. Andersen of the Presidency of the Seventy [now a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles], a mother, and a grandmother. I love the thought that even though she has moved so many times, she has always known where to find her Beehive Girl’s Handbook and achievement bandlo. Sister Andersen has stood by her husband and taught the gospel all over the world. She has also exemplified womanhood and goodness as a faithful member of the Church.
As an 11-year-old girl, Sister Andersen couldn’t wait to enter the Young Women program. When her birthday finally arrived, she was given the Beehive Girl’s Handbook. Sister Andersen explains:
“In the beginning of the book it said, ‘As a Beehive girl, and for the rest of your life, set your goals high’ (Beehive Girl’s Handbook, 12). I could tell this was going to be a great adventure for me. I took my book home and immediately read it from cover to cover to see what goals I should complete during the next two years.
“I discovered that there were 80 possible goals to choose from. In my excitement, I determined that if I worked hard, I could complete all of the goals in my book—well, all except one: to go to the temple … and be baptized for the dead (Beehive Girl’s Handbook, 140). I [could not] be baptized for the dead because there [was] no temple in Florida.”
Sister Andersen decided to tell her father about her situation. Her letter continues:
“My father hesitated only a moment. We had no family in the West and no other reason to travel to Utah. He thoughtfully said to me, ‘Kathy, if you [will] complete all of the other goals in your Beehive book, we will take you the 2,500 miles [4,000 km] to the temple in Salt Lake City so that you can do baptisms for the dead and complete your final goal.’
“I worked on the goals in my Beehive book for two years and completed 79 goals. My father worked during those two years to save enough money to make the journey to the temple. My father kept his promise to me.
“Air travel at that time was too expensive for our family, and so we traveled 5,000 miles [8,000 km] by car to Salt Lake City and back so that I could complete my last Beehive goal. What joy I felt as I entered the Salt Lake Temple and in proxy was baptized by my father. It was an experience I will never forget.
“I will forever be appreciative for my mother and father’s willingness to make the temple an important part of my life. … They wisely understood that as I worked on my Young Women goals, my faith would be strengthened. My parents’ faith and sacrifice in making the long journey to Salt Lake City significantly impacted me and the generations that have followed” (“I Can Complete All of the Goals—Except One,” unpublished manuscript).
As a young girl, Sister Andersen strove to do the small and simple things that would help her become an exemplary woman— “an example of the believers”— and that is what she has become. Each of you has the same opportunity. The small and simple things you choose to do today will be magnified into great and glorious blessings tomorrow. Living each day as “an example of the believers” will help you to be happy and more confident. It will strengthen your testimony, help you to keep your baptismal covenants, and prepare you to receive the blessings of the temple so that eventually you can return to your Heavenly Father.

The translation of the Book of Mormon is a miracle in itself and gives further proof of the book’s divine origin. When Oliver Cowdery arrived in Harmony, Pennsylvania, on April 5, 1829, to serve as the Prophet’s scribe, only a few pages of the final text had been translated. That evening Joseph and Oliver sat down together and discussed the Prophet’s experiences long into the night. Two days later, on April 7, they commenced the translation of the work. Over the next three months, Joseph translated at an amazing rate—approximately 500 printed pages in about 60 working days.
Oliver wrote of this remarkable experience: “These were days never to be forgotten—to sit under the sound of a voice dictated by the inspiration of heaven, awakened the utmost gratitude of this bosom! Day after day I continued, uninterrupted, to write from his mouth, as he translated, with the Urim and Thummim … the history, or record, called ‘The book of Mormon’” (Messenger and Advocate, Oct. 1834, 14; see also Joseph Smith—History 1:71, note).

Then we have here a sister who tells about her experience. Her husband passed away, and then she writes, “After the funeral services were over, I took my five children and went home, and was left to sink or swim. And I sank; I was all alone. How was I going to look after those five children? Oh, sure, the bishop would see that I didn’t go hungry and that we were taken care of, and we had enough food to eat, and so on, but we needed something more than that.”
And then she said this, “I need Special Interests because I need to know that there are other people in the world with feelings like mine. I need to meet other widows who have managed to raise their children alone successfully, without the hang-ups psychologists insist they will have. I need to know that some people’s problems are worse than mine, so I can recognize and count my blessings. I need people to talk to who fully understand my problems and needs. I need Special Interests because I have to learn how to handle my own problems. The first thing I learned as a widow was that no one else will help except in emergencies, and sometimes not then. As soon as the funeral was over, I repeat, I was left on my own either to sink or swim.
“Then,” she said, “your classes geared to the whole families don’t help us a bit, but a class I took this fall with the Special Interests showed me how I can communicate with my family and friends. There is no way you can fully understand our needs or problems, except you go through it yourself. Do you know what it is like to lose your wife or husband in death? It is nothing like losing your father or even your daughter. I know; I lost both before I lost my husband. Do you know what it is like to go through the hell of a divorce? Do you know what it is like to be a girl over 26, and still be single? You can’t know. We need each other. Some of us need small group activities. Some of us need large group activities where we can go and have to talk to people and visit. Sometimes we don’t feel like talking. Special Interests is not a dating bureau or a marriage bureau. As such it would be a complete failure. There are women in our stake who like to go places, but not alone. They come to our small activities hoping to meet other women with similar interests to go places with. One lady buys a season pass to the symphony every year, and she is still looking for someone to go with her.
“We resent being invited to the Young Marrieds activities. To me it is like a slap in the face to have the Young Marrieds or elders announce that Special Interests are invited to their party. I know you may not understand why I feel so strongly about it, but other Special Interests I have talked to understand, and most of the others feel the same way. I feel like this new Special Interest program is inspired of God. It is what we need, if it is done like it should be. I needed it eight-and-a-half years ago. Thank the Lord my president is working hard on it to do his part. Will you recognize us as a special group of people, long ignored and neglected with special problems and special needs and special interests? Some of us are raising special children, boys without fathers, girls without mothers. They have special problems and special needs. If our needs aren’t met, you are also neglecting some of their needs.”

My dad is taking me to the movies on Sunday. Want to come?
Sorry, Laura. We can’t. We go to church on Sundays.
Oh. OK.
But thanks for asking us!
Can’t you come after church?
Well, Sunday is a holy day for us. We use it to remember Jesus Christ.
But do you want to come to a Church activity with us next week?
We’re going to do crafts! It’ll be fun.
OK! I’ll ask my dad.
At the activity …
I’m glad you could come.
Me too! Thanks for asking me.

As young adults, you are at an excellent stage of life to cultivate a love of service. You are energetic and healthy, able to appreciate hard work; you are creative and industrious, able to see what needs to be done and capable of finding ways to make it happen. Do not believe anyone who tells you this should be a selfish time of your life! Instead, seek out ways to help others on campus, in our community, and around the world.

When I had been home from my mission only a month, I started dating Margaret. One day, soon thereafter, my mother wasn't feeling well. She asked me if I could fulfill her assignment at Welfare Square and can peaches with the Relief Society sisters. I was happy to do it, and while I've never done any canning since, I enjoyed that opportunity. That evening, I was surprised to realize the impact it had on Margaret when I was late for our date. She was not unhappy with me, as I had feared; on the contrary, she was impressed by the reason for my tardiness. This experience served as a great foundation for us to begin building a service-based eternal relationship together.

During a recent open house and media day for a new house of the Lord, I led a group of journalists on a tour through the sacred structure. I described the purposes of temples in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and responded to their many excellent questions.
Before entering the celestial room, I explained that this particular room in the house of the Lord symbolically represents the peace and beauty of the heavenly home to which we can return after this life. I indicated to our guests that we would not speak while in the celestial room, but I would be happy to answer any questions after we moved to the next stop on the tour.
After exiting the celestial room and as we gathered at the next location, I asked our guests if they had any observations they wanted to share. One of the journalists said with great emotion, “I have never experienced anything like that in my entire life. I did not know quiet like that existed in the world; I simply did not believe such stillness was possible.”
I was struck by both the sincerity and the starkness of this person’s statement. And the journalist’s reaction highlighted one important aspect of stillness—overcoming and tuning out the commotion of our external environment.
As I later pondered the journalist’s comment and reflected on the often hectic pace of our modern lives—the busyness, noise, diversions, distractions, and detours that so often seem to demand our attention—a scripture came to my mind: “Be still, and know that I am God.”

Somehow I knew that Melissa’s surprise would be chocolate chip cookies. We took them down to Mrs. Palmer’s because she invited us for dinner. She’s our landlady and lives on the main floor, under our apartment. She’s not a member of the Church, even though missionaries have lived in her apartment for many years. She invited Will to come to dinner, too, and we waited and waited, but he never showed up. It was very disappointing, and we felt sorry for Mrs. Palmer because we waited so long that the dinner was cold before we started eating. But Mrs. Palmer felt sorry for us, too, so she let us show her the video that we were going to show to Will. Then the three of us ate all Melissa’s cookies. They were delicious! Please give Melissa a big thank-you hug for me.

Recently our seven-year-old son, Wade, had his appendix rupture. The infection had spread throughout his abdomen, yet from outward appearances nothing seemed seriously wrong. Without proper medical care and attention he would have surely died. Like a person who has a serious physical illness, the spirit cannot heal itself after a major transgression without confession. The spirituality of a person can only remain weak, somewhat hesitant in fulfilling its immortal purpose, and could even wane and die.

Perhaps a point can also be made that as we do not visit a doctor for every little scratch, also we should not confess every “minor” sin to the bishop. President Brigham Young counseled, “Do not tell about your nonsensical conduct that nobody knows of but yourselves” (in Journal of Discourses, 8:362). The key is that we must be able to honestly differentiate between major transgressions and “nonsensical conduct.”

1 Isn’t your little brother getting baptized next week, Ramón?
Yeah, I envy him.
How come?
2 Because he’ll be a hundred percent sin-free, and I’ve made my share of goofs since I was baptized.
Yeah, like that last shot you took. But don’t you remember what Sister Simon told us about the sacrament?
3 I guess not. What’d she say?
She said that if we have faith in Christ and repent of our sins, then when we take the sacrament each Sunday, it’s like being baptized again.
4 That’s right—I remember now. She said that we renew the covenants we made when we were baptized.
Wow! If I repent I can be as squeaky clean as my little brother.
5 The next Sunday
6 In Primary Class
You’re right, Ramón. And if you keep the covenants you renewed today, you’ll continue to have his Spirit to be with you.

When I was a young man, not many people—including me—would have picked me out of a lineup to become the future president of Brigham Young University. You see, I did not grow up in a family that hung diplomas on their walls. For starters, no one had diplomas. But we did, thankfully, have walls.
As a single mom, my mother heroically moved us to New Mexico when I was just a few months old. She put her own education on the shelf but made sure that my education was a top priority.
It was almost comical how much she hyped college in my young mind. Honestly, I became convinced that college was just another term for a Carnival cruise. So you can imagine my confusion when I first stepped foot on the campus of America’s most stone-cold sober university. I count it a miracle that I ended up at BYU. In fact, it took a small gift of light to get me here. Let me explain.
Back in my day, the company that administered the ACT would send your score for free to schools they recommended. But, for no additional expense, there were also two blank spots you got to fill in with schools you chose. The first spot on that list was easy: Utah State University. My mom had taken some classes there, and I felt that’s where she hoped I’d end up.
I was stumped, however, on the second one. I hadn’t toured many campuses, and I knew mostly local schools. But then, in a moment of heavenly inspiration, I recalled a hat I had in my bedroom—a gift from a Young Men leader. Some years earlier he had taken a group of us kids to a BYU basketball game against the University of New Mexico.
Before we had entered the basketball arena, he had handed me a BYU hat and said with a smile that wearing it was the price of admission. I put on the hat and waltzed into this extraordinarily hostile venue—known locally as The Pit. The surrounding crowd that night made us pay for it. That night at our Young Men activity, we learned a few new, colorful words. But we had fun. It also helped that BYU won the game. I felt something special—a kindling of a light—by daring to be different right in my own backyard with that brand-new BYU hat atop my head.
In the years that followed, BYU didn’t just launch my education or my career; it launched my eternal marriage to my eternal companion and my relationship with our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. He is the gift and the Light of the World.