Just Do One Day by Leslie Welker Wenhardt

My sweetest answer to prayer happened about 11 years ago. It had been a year since Gary, my husband, died in an auto accident. There aren't words to express the heartbreak that goes along with that, but I'm sure anyone losing someone they love can relate. At this point, 11 years ago, my son, Mike, had gone to Guatemala to serve his mission there, and my youngest daughter was soon to graduate and go off to college. I was crumbling inside. I felt broken and could not find relief. My prayers came from a desperation I had never known.

In my need, answers came, slowly at first and with two questions: "Did you know that people that suffer from depression live in the past? And people that suffer from anxiety live in the future?" WHAT? That was what I was suffering from, the back and forth of those two emotions! Then the sweet answers began to flow. Just do one day! I could do one day! Then the beauty of the heavens helped inspire me what to do I.

That one day, first be aware of what I love about myself; second look for something to look forward to today that inspires hope; third what does my Heavenly Father want me to learn? (It's always  something uplifting); fourth, whom can I serve? (which has turned into what I look forward to); then, fifth, what am I grateful for?

These answers have changed my life in ways that would be difficult to write here and would take too long. I will say that the love I feel from my Father and Savior has transformed me! So much so that I have shared these five things with anyone I feel prompted to, and I've seen how they have blessed others’ lives. I start every day with LOVE and end every day with GRATITUDE!  Everything in between is HOPEFUL and UPLIFTING.

I love how kind and personal this answer has been. The only way I can begin to thank my Heavenly Father is to take his advice one day at a time. I can do one day!

What the Touch of His Hand Means to Me by Suzanne Hancock

The Touch of the Master's Hand

'Twas battered and scarred, and the auctioneer

      Thought it scarcely worth his while

To waste much time on the old violin,

      But held it up with a smile.

"What am I bidden, good folks," he cried,

    "Who'll start the bidding for me?"

"A dollar, a dollar. Then two! Only two?

      Two dollars, and who'll make it three?”

I know all too well

the scratches and scrapes on my soul,

the broken strings of my heart,

and the cheap price tag

that displays my worth to the world.

"Three dollars, once; three dollars, twice;

      Going for three…" But no,

From the room, far back, a grey-haired man

      Came forward and picked up the bow;

Then wiping the dust from the old violin,

      And tightening the loosened strings,

He played a melody pure and sweet,

      As a caroling angel sings.

Yet, I have also experienced the love

that comes from those who care enough

to see beyond my imperfections.

I have had Bishops, family members,

friends, and an angel mother

who picked me up and dusted me off

through their promptings, their prayers,

and their faith in me.

The music ceased, and the auctioneer,

      With a voice that was quiet and low,

Said: "What am I bid for the old violin?"

      And he held it up with the bow.

"A thousand dollars, and who'll make it two?

      Two thousand! And who'll make it three?

Three thousand, once; three thousand, twice,

    And going and gone," said he.

My music has changed from

the simple tune of “Chopsticks”

to a magnificent symphony

when I have been able to see and to feel

that I have divinity within me.

The people cheered, but some of them cried,

    "We do not quite understand.

What changed its worth?" Swift came the reply:

    "The touch of the Master's hand.”

Just a touch. A mother’s prayer. A friend’s hug.

A simple smile. A note. A listening ear.

All it takes sometimes is for one person

to listen to a prompting

and then to act ~

to become the hands of the Savior. 

And many a man with life out of tune,

      And battered and scarred with sin,

Is auctioned cheap to the thoughtless crowd

      Much like the old violin.

Do we ever think that someone

is beyond saving?

That they have done too much,

gone too far,

to be rescued?

A "mess of pottage," a glass of wine,

    A game — and he travels on.

He is "going" once, and "going" twice,

    He's "going" and almost “gone."

What if those who sparked music

back into my spirit

had given up on me

when I was “almost gone”?

But the Master comes, and the foolish crowd

    Never can quite understand

The worth of a soul and the change that is wrought

    By the touch of the Master's hand.

Feeling a burden literally lifted from my shoulders,

feeling redeemed,

feeling like I do matter.

Knowing that many of those drops

in Gethsemane were shed

to help me rediscover the daughter of God I am.

The cross and the empty tomb

are a testament to me

that I have the potential to become

a Stradivarius

because of the Master’s love for me.

Every fiber of my being exclaims Hallelujah!  

Become as a Little Child by Deanne Wahl

I have been thinking a lot lately about the Savior’s invitation to “become as a little child.”  I have six children of my own and am constantly thinking of how they are learning and understanding the gospel.  I have been blessed with the opportunity to be their mom, and need to teach them the principles of the gospel.  It is a task that I am often worried that I am falling short on.  I know this church is true and I know that the principles taught in it bring happiness and peace, but how do I show this to my children?

As I have been wondering this lately, I had a thought that has become a great source of peace to me.  Maybe I need to stop worrying so much about teaching them, and I need to listen and learn from them.  Christ asked us to become like a little child, and I need to follow his teachings.

  

Through my callings as a mother and in the Primary, I am daily amazed at the strength of our children.  They have the ability to believe completely and to feel and recognize the spirit.  I watch as the spirit touches their lives, and they recognize it and believe its promptings.  They do not doubt it once they have felt it.  They love entirely without conditions.  They look for those whom they can serve.  They are excited about baptism and love to tell people about the church.  They do not have a fear of offending when they speak the truth. They have faith that their prayers will be answered.  Their first thought during hard times is to pray and turn to our Father in Heaven.

I want to have the faith, love, and belief that the children do.  I need to try harder to look for the good in others.  I need to not doubt when the spirit speaks to me.  I need to act when I am asked to serve.  I have a strong testimony that the Lord has given me my children so we can help EACH OTHER, and that I need to learn from them as much, if not more, than they need to learn from me.  I am so grateful for a Heavenly Father who is patient with me in my shortcomings and who places people in my lives that will help bring me closer to Him.

Mind and Heart by Jay Platt

Great music touches me, so too do places of momentous events—Nauvoo, Gettysburg, Westminster, James Madison’s gravesite and home at Montpelier.  I’m not, however, what one would describe as “touchy, feely.”

We often talk of “feeling” when discussing gospel verities and forget the mind.  Study for missionaries was not emphasized when I served as it is today.  I read Jesus the Christ and the Book of Mormon.  Better said, I read words on pages of the Book of Mormon but did not read it seriously.

At BYU I took a class from Keith Perkins, later Dean of Religious Education.  Upon transferring to ASU, it was a pleasure to see that Brother Perkins had been moved to ASU’s Institute.  Taking an Old Testament class from him, my dormant interest in scriptures was awakened.

Moving on to law school was the beginning of serious reading:  Old Testament, New Testament, Book of Mormon—this time carefully and prayerfully—and the Pearl of Great Price.  Over the next three and a half decades , all were carefully read again and again, adding to them the Doctrine and Covenants together with a corresponding reading of Church History including B.H. Roberts’ Comprehensive History, primary and secondary First Vision accounts, materials on the Apostolic mission to England; the Kirtland and Nauvoo periods; the coming forth of the Book of Mormon and corresponding materials on the three and eight witnesses.

Through it all, I never experienced what one might characterize as a “feeling” moment.  My experience might best be characterized by D&C 8:2, “…I will tell you in your mind and in your heart…[noting the word order];”  D&C 6:14,15, “…thou has inquired of me…and I did enlighten thy mind…thou has been enlightened by the Spirit of truth…;” Alma 32:28, “the word is good, for it beginneth to enlarge my soul; yea it beginneth to enlighten my understanding, yea, it beginneth to be delicious to me” and verse 34, “the word hath swelled your souls…that your understanding doth begin to be enlightened and your mind doth begin to expand.”

My reading also took me to the world of apologetics where I read a host of critics’ claims, criticisms and theories, together with rebuttals thereof by very fine LDS apologists including Nibley, Dan Peterson, Terryl Givens, John Hall, Steve Harper, John Welch, FARMS, the Maxwell Institute, The Interpreter, and BYU’s Religious Studies Center.

Blessed with a believing heart, the claims of critics—and I’ve been exposed to virtually all of them—have never fazed me.  While apologetics is an interesting exercise, it too often diverts attention from and obscures the real issues:  did Joseph Smith see the Father and the Son; is the Book of Mormon true and was it translated by the gift and power of God; were priesthood keys, power and authority restored to the earth by means of Joseph Smith; and has Christ’s Church been returned to the earth with living Apostles and Prophets?

For me, the answers to the foregoing are a resounding yes!  My mind has been enlightened and expanded as to the verities of the restoration, a consequence of careful readings and re-readings of all the standard works and the historical events associated with the restoration.

Waiting for the Windows of Heaven by Kay Perkins

As I look back over my life and contemplate what I could write to benefit others, I am turned to the experiences I had in becoming a mother. All of my life I dreamed of

getting married, having lots of kids, and living happily ever after. Dreams are good to

have, but I believe we must always be prepared when things don’t work out the way we

want them to.

Allan and I were married on August 22, 1986 in the right place, and in the Lord’s time. I was 28 years old when we began our journey together. We wanted to havea baby as soon as possible and did nothing to avoid starting our family. In the fall of 1987, our wish came true, but it was short lived when I miscarried at 3 months. I never dreamed that that would be the only time I would become pregnant. Allan got deathly sick in 1988 and almost died from complications of Pancreatitis with Pseudo Cysts. After 3 major surgeries and months in the hospital, we finally could live a normal life.

Law School and Graduation came and went. Allan’s first job after the Bar Exam led us

to Mohave County, Arizona, then on to Graham County and my home town of Thatcher.

For 11 years we tried every option of having our own child. Feelings of anger, betrayal, sadness, failure, bitterness, and anxiety, filled my soul for years. Every time a friend or relative shared the news that they were going to have a baby, I felt denied. I was so happy for them, but deep inside, my heart was aching. I felt my prayers were in vain, that Heavenly Father had forgotten about me, that I didn’t matter to Him anymore.

My father passed away in 1994, and I spent many Sunday mornings visiting his gravesite

searching for unanswered questions. I figured that was where I could find peace and solace to calm the ache in my heart. For some reason, I felt closer to Heaven when I was there. I poured out my soul and shed many tears on those visits. I pleaded and bargained with Heavenly Father to please let me be a mother. It was my greatest desire. I promised that if He would send us a child, I would raise that child to walk uprightly before Him and that I would make sure that child knew they were His child.

The answers came. We knew we would never conceive a child of our own, so we started the adoption process through the LDS Church Social Services. The long process was completed late in 1996, and we were finally certified to adopt in the State of Arizona. The waiting list was long, and I didn’t have much hope. I was used to all those feelings of disappointment and prepared myself for the worse. However, despite my doubts and fears, Heavenly Father knew the desires of our hearts and had a plan for us.

In June of 1997, out of the blue, we received a phone call from a very dear friend of ours. She told us of a young girl who was in trouble and wanted to give her baby up for adoption, and would we be interested in taking the baby. I stood there with tears streaming down my face trying to compose myself long enough to give her our answer. On October 13, 1997, a beautiful baby boy came into this world and made me a mom. When we walked into the hospital that night and saw this precious son of God for the first time, I knew instantly that Heavenly Father loved me, and He had answered my prayers. The pure joy that filled my soul cannot be described.

Six months later, as Allan and I knelt at the altar in the Mesa Temple, and they placed Dallin on the altar to be sealed to us for all Eternity, Heaven was opened and the Holy Ghost bore witness to me that indeed Dallin was mine. He had to come to us in a different way, but he was ours forever. When Dallin was 2, he was in my mother’s bedroom, and when I went to find him, he was standing in front of a picture of my father and mother. He pointed at my dad and said, “Grandpa.” How did he know him? I had never shown him a picture of my dad, nor talked to him about his Grandpa Jones. I truly believe that my father played a major role in the placement of Dallin in our home. They knew each other well, in Heaven, before Dallin came to earth. The time I spent pleading and praying in the cemetery, was not in vain. They heard me, not only Heavenly Father, but also my earthly father. The veil is thin and our loved ones are closer than we know. Of this I am sure.

I know without a doubt that Heavenly Father is aware of us, He loves us, and He does

answer our prayers. The windows of Heaven will open for us, maybe not in our time

frame, but in His. We don’t always understand why things happen the way they do, but

because He loves us, we can find peace. Dallin is currently serving a full time mission in

Salt Lake City. He knows who he is; he knows he is a Son of God. I am so glad I kept my promise to God, and He kept His.

Bus 8 Will Never Be the Same by Suzanne Hancock

Every morning when my eight-year-old would get on the bus, he was greeted by a jubilant, "HELLO, CAEL! How are you, buddy?" "Hi, John!" Cael would excitedly respond, and then he would launch into his signature nonstop talking about anything and everything.

On that fifteen to twenty minute ride to school, John and Cael would discuss the Arizona Cardinals' latest win or loss; which bus they had that day; which busses were broken down; when Cael had a visit from the tooth fairy; the trip Cael had taken over the weekend; what Santa brought for Christmas; John's Cubs' World Series hat; and on and on and on.

They also discussed John's upcoming retirement from driving the bus.

I don't know who was more saddened by this news: Cael or his parents.

That greeting each weekday morning started Cael's day off with joy.
That short ride to school demonstrated John's patience and willingness to listen.
That interest in a little boy's life helped Cael feel special.

John would let him shut the bus door and be his little helper. He gave Cael jobs to do, which helped him to be responsible and to feel needed.

I observed all of this from the slightly ajar front door or from the window every day, and every day I smiled and felt a wave of gratitude that this bus driver was sent into the life of my son.

The amazing thing is, I know that John was this way with many of the children. I'm not the only mom who saw the way he treated the kids. He is an example of the Light of Christ that can be shared in small and simple ways. He is an example of how we should treat others in our lives. He is an example of the teaching of our Savior in Matthew, chapter 25, verse 40: "And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me."

John Poe is much more than a bus driver. He took his job and used it to reach out and to make someone else happy. His impact on my son's life and on ours will forever be etched in our hearts.

Being an only child, Cael has no siblings, but he now has an eternal brother, thanks to one man's selfless and giving soul.

He Watched Over Me by Clint Wiltbank

I had an experience years ago that helped me realize that our Heavenly Father is real, and is very conscious of us.  It was at the end of my first semester at BYU.  I had a couple of different jobs just to try and keep up with expenses.  One of my jobs, I milked the night shift at the University dairy.  It was Christmas Eve, and I had just finished the 3^rd shift around 2AM.  I had planned to drive all the next day to come home for Christmas. I drove an old '68 Chevy 4X4 pickup without any seat belts.  The dairy was in Spanish Fork, about 20 miles from where my dorm was on campus.  The interstate was abandoned as I made my way back to campus.  I remember driving about 75-80 miles per hour, when the front end of my pickup started bouncing so bad, I had a hard time getting the truck pulled to the side of the interstate.  Thinking that I had a broken front axle, I crawled underneath with a flashlight to survey the scene. The front axle was intact.  I climbed back in the cab, thinking I might be able to limp the truck the rest of the way into Provo.  I started, and everything seemed fine.  As I got back up to freeway speed, the truck started bucking again.  This time, after getting her shutdown, I took my flashlight, and stood several yards in front and could see that my driver-side front wheel was just resting on the 4 wheel drive hub.  There wasn't a lug nut left holding the wheel on.  That wheel stayed on that hub going 75 down the freeway, pulling off, starting again, and pulling off a second time.  There is no logical explanation why I shouldn't have been killed that night, other than I was being looked out for by some heavenly being.   

The next year I was on a mission for the church, working with the southeast Asian Vietnamese community in Houston, TX.  A lot of these people had been brought to the US on an immigration program after enduring some horrible experiences after the Vietnam war.  I constantly got the “A  kind God wouldn't have let such horrible things happen”.  I know that our mortal minds don't comprehend all things, and I fully believe that some day everything will make sense to us.  I do know that on that Christmas Eve so many years ago, my Heavenly Father was looking out for me, an insignificant 19 year old.  I have contemplated that experience many times since then, and am grateful that I was spared that night.