By Michael T. Richie
Michael T. Richie, "Should We Climb?" Ensign, Feb. 2005, 66
A few years ago several friends from institute and I planned a two-day backpacking trip. We were experienced campers, quite familiar with the areas we would be traveling in and well equipped for most situations. We would soon learn, however, that without the guidance of the Holy Ghost our gear and knowledge would have been next to useless.
A few days before our trip the sky was clear and the temperatures were moderate. Our destination was Mount Chocorua in the White Mountains of New Hampshire. While it is true that the mountains of our region do not boast summits as high as those found in other parts of the world, the elevation gain from trailhead to summit is often quite substantial, and New England is known for its highly unpredictable weather.
The day before our departure it started to rain. Normally this would not concern me; it often rained as we hiked. This time, however, I felt a growing sense of unease. I checked the forecast-light showers, nothing more. Still, I felt very uncomfortable as the evening progressed. The feeling grew as I prepared for bed, read my scriptures, and said my prayers.
Finally I went to my pack and pulled out my guide map of the White Mountain National Forest. As I located Mount Chocorua on the map, my sense of unease doubled. It was so intense I considered calling off the trip, but that didn't feel right either. I found another mountain we had on our list to climb and immediately felt better. After a prayer I felt good about this new destination. My only concern was possibly disappointing my friend Glenn, who had put much effort into planning this trip.
The next morning it was still raining lightly. After we all arrived at our departure point, I voiced my concerns and told my friends of my prayers and feelings. To my relief, two others had had the same feelings, and Glenn was more than willing to change mountains. We then prayed and asked the Lord to watch over us in our travels and to help us make the right decisions. We all felt comfortable with our new plans and departed.
Although the rain continued, our drive and climb passed without incident. After dinner the rain stopped and the clouds broke, revealing a beautiful sunset. Our spirits lifted, and we went to bed.
At midnight we were awakened by an intense electrical storm that lasted most of the night. While the rain, wind, and lightning were heavy where we were, we felt no impending danger. The lightning was far worse to the east where, from my vantage point, it was striking a particular area nearly every second and continued to do so for at least an hour. Glad that I was not there, I drifted back to sleep. The remainder of the trip was wet but passed safely and was very enjoyable.
A few days later I attended an institute cookout. All those who had gone on the backpacking trip were there. When Glenn arrived he had a curious look on his face. He showed us a section of a guidebook for the White Mountains. It stated that while Mount Chocorua is not as elevated as its neighbors, its bald face and position make it dangerous as one of the mountains in North America most frequently struck by lightning. We also confirmed that the area we saw bombarded by lightning was the Chocorua area.
How grateful we were that we were warned by the Holy Ghost not to go there at that time.
Gospel topic: Holy Ghost
By Marcela Colaberardino de Mitillo
Marcela Colaberardino de Mitillo, "Jazmín and the Sabbath Day," Ensign, Feb. 2005, 67
When my husband's salary was suddenly reduced by 30 percent several years ago, I began to think of ways I could help my family meet our expenses.
I had often organized birthday parties-including dressing up as a clown, providing games, and performing puppet shows-for my two children, and relatives had asked me why I didn't turn this into a job for other people's celebrations. Now seemed like a great time to turn their suggestion into action.
I began putting up posters at local businesses. Shortly thereafter Jazmín the Clown had her first job.
It wasn't a smooth start, however. For the first six months, most of the parties I received requests for were held on Sunday. Everyone, it seemed, needed a clown on the Sabbath! While I had promised the Lord I would never work on the Sabbath, it was discouraging to have to reject work when I needed it so much.
On one occasion I received an offer from the city government to help at the celebration for the Day of the Child, which was to be held on Sunday. The officials offered to pay me well, but I couldn't break my promise. Some of my friends told me I would never be successful if I didn't accept work on the Sabbath, but I knew I couldn't disappoint the Lord. In the face of such opposition, I tried to focus on the promises He has made to those who honor the Sabbath (see D&C 59:9-13).
In time, circumstances began to improve. Now, some years later, I have lots of work on Saturdays and weekdays. I have even been able to persuade some of my clients to change their parties from Sunday to Saturday.
Initially, I wondered if I would be successful when it seemed that so many people treated Sunday like any other day of the week. But now I understand that when we show the Lord we are willing to keep His commandments and do our part, He will provide a way for us to do so.
Gospel topic: Sabbath
Name Withheld
"A 'Chance' Meeting," Ensign, Feb. 2005, 68
It was a gray, rainy day-very unusual for sunny southern California. My husband and I had just finished a full-to-overflowing endowment session as part of our stake temple day. My husband braved the driving rain to get the car while I waited inside the temple's door.
As I quietly chatted with a member of my ward, a sister I did not recognize approached us. She was dripping wet, and it appeared she had been crying. She explained that she had inadvertently left her vehicle's headlights on and was now unable to start the car. She recognized us from the temple session-she was the only patron in that session not from our stake-and wondered if we had battery jumper cables she could borrow.
As we talked she began looking intently at me and finally asked, "Aren't you Cathy West?" (Names have been changed.)
Surprised, I exclaimed, "That was my maiden name!"
"I'm Diane Cody Hart," she replied, "Anne Cody's little sister."
Anne Cody-the name struck me like a bolt of lightning. I had not seen Anne for years. Three decades before and a thousand miles away, Anne had been my childhood friend-and my link to the Church. My mother and sisters and I were members of the Church, but my father was not. No one in my family was active. Anne quietly and consistently took me with her to church and Young Women and included me in Church activities. During those crucial years I remained active more because of Anne's friendship than because of my own testimony of the gospel.
That tenuous connection to the Church sustained me through my parents' divorce. It inspired me to counsel my heartbroken father to start attending church and to listen to the missionary discussions. It was strengthened as my father joined the Church and my parents remarried. It was my guide through the turbulent teenage years.
Through it all Anne remained my friend and example. When she decided to go to Brigham Young University, I didn't want to be left behind, so I went too. During that time good friends and full participation in the programs of the Church helped my testimony mature.
Then during my sophomore year, an unexpected tragedy befell my family. My oldest sister, who had suffered from emotional problems for years, took her own life. Our newly found testimonies comforted us through those difficult days.
I subsequently met a returned missionary and planned a temple marriage. The day before my wedding, my parents received their endowments, and we-my deceased sister included by proxy-were sealed as a family. Anne's quiet influence had brought the blessings of the temple not only to me but to my family as well.
I embraced Diane and expressed my appreciation for her sister's friendship and example. When my husband arrived with the car, he reported that we had no jumper cables but insisted that Diane accompany us to a nearby mall to buy a set.
Diane and I waited in the car while my husband went inside to search for jumper cables. I asked Diane about her family, and she replied that they had all attended simultaneous temple sessions that evening-Anne in Chicago, Diane in San Diego, and their parents in Reno-while sacred temple ordinances were performed by proxy for her younger brother, who had died the previous year. Diane had come to the temple alone to participate in the special session while her husband took care of their three children.
I squeezed Diane's hand and asked how her brother had died. She began to weep and whispered that her brother-to whom she had been very close-had taken his own life. Through her tears Diane related how alone she had felt, even in the crowded endowment session, as she thought of the circumstances of her brother's death.
I could see the Lord's hand in bringing the two of us together that evening. To the gentle patter of the rain on the roof of the car, I told her about my sister's suicide many years earlier and my family's struggle to understand and cope. I held her hand and expressed my understanding and empathy until my husband arrived a short time later with jumper cables.
We returned to the temple, and my husband started Diane's car. Before she drove away, Diane and I embraced as the rain fell softly upon us. "I don't feel alone anymore," she whispered.
As Diane disappeared into the rain, I marveled at Heavenly Father's goodness. He had brought me together with one of His daughters who needed comfort I was uniquely prepared to provide. And He had granted me a priceless opportunity to repay in some small way the special service a dear friend had given me 30 years before.
Gospel topics: example, spirituality, temples
By José Salvador Yanez López
José Salvador Yanez López, "He Served Me Before He Met Me," Ensign, Feb. 2005, 69
I was baptized in Comayaguela, Honduras, in February 1992. After serving a mission in El Salvador, I moved to San Pedro Sula, Honduras. There I met Brenda, a beautiful young woman who had been home from her mission for only nine days. Some months later we were married in the Guatemala City Guatemala Temple.
We established our home in the Fesitranh Ward in Honduras, and before long I was called as the first counselor in the bishopric. At a priesthood executive committee meeting, the bishop informed us that one of our ward members, Brother Fidel Durón, was moving to another ward in the stake. He told us that Brother Durón was a very service-minded person and that every ward member no doubt had something to thank him for.
Brother Durón helped anyone in need, whether it involved an electrical problem, some construction work, a broken pipe, or an early-morning trip to the hospital. His service was not limited to Church members but was also extended to his neighbors and acquaintances. He was loved and respected by all. The bishop gave us an assignment to find all those members who had something to thank Brother Durón for. A meeting was planned to honor him for the selfless service he had given for such a long time.
I said to myself, "I don't have anything to thank Brother Durón for." I had lived in the ward for just a short time and had spoken with him on a few occasions. He seemed to be a pleasant person, but I didn't think I had had the opportunity to be the recipient of an act of service at his hand.
Some time later I was called to be a member of the high council and assigned to the López Arellano Ward, the ward Brother Durón now attended. One Sunday I was in Sunday School in this ward, and the teacher asked class members to share personal experiences regarding service.
I happened to be seated to the left of a sister named Adela Rosa de Santos. She started to tell how the man at her right, Brother Durón, had served as her home teacher when she and her family were new members of the Church. She told how his kind service had given them strength and encouragement when they needed it and how he had blessed their lives. She concluded by saying, "If it weren't for you, Brother Durón, I wouldn't be here."
I could hardly believe my ears. Sister Adela's daughter, Suyapa, was the missionary who had knocked on my door five years earlier, and now I was a member of the Church and my life had been filled with the richest possible blessings. I had been given the opportunity to serve a mission, the privilege of receiving my temple ordinances, and the glorious hope of having an eternal family.
At that moment I learned that 20 years before, a humble man who was true to his commitment to serve others had unknowingly labored for the welfare of my soul. I was filled with a joy that is hard to express and with love for my brother, Fidel Durón. I had once thought I didn't have anything to thank Brother Durón for. Now I considered myself to be first and foremost on the list the bishop had asked us to make.
That special meeting for Brother Durón was never held, because he returned to the Fesitranh Ward for a time. We now have a beautiful friendship. I have so many reasons to be grateful to Jesus Christ for all He has done for me and also to Brother Durón for the love he showed me 20 years before he ever met me.
Gospel topic: service
[illustrations] Illustrated by Daniel Lewis