Gospel Story Finder

When I was young, I worked in my father’s factory during vacations. The first question my father always asked after I received my salary was “What are you going to do with your money?”

I knew the answer and responded, “Pay my tithing and save for my mission.”

After working with him for about eight years and constantly answering his same question, my father figured he had taught me about paying my tithing. What he didn’t realize was that I had learned this important principle in just one weekend. Let me tell you how I learned that principle.

After some events related to a civil war in Central America, my father’s business went bankrupt. He went from about 200 full-time employees to fewer than five sewing operators who worked as needed in the garage of our home. One day during those difficult times, I heard my parents discussing whether they should pay tithing or buy food for the children.

On Sunday, I followed my father to see what he was going to do. After our Church meetings, I saw him take an envelope and put his tithing in it. That was only part of the lesson. The question that remained for me was what we were going to eat.

Early Monday morning, some people knocked on our door. When I opened it, they asked for my father. I called for him, and when he arrived, the visitors told him about an urgent sewing order they needed as quickly as possible. They told him that the order was so urgent that they would pay for it in advance. That day I learned the principles of paying tithing and the blessings that follow.

I was impressed with the remarks of a stake president at a recent stake conference as he was released from his assignment. His remarks were of thankfulness for the opportunity to serve his stake and for the way the people served each other. He said:

My service has been out . . . for all to see. But think of the many auxiliary and other leaders and individual members of the Church who have at the same time quietly done their duty and been faithful to the Lord. Some of the greatest service rendered while I have been your president has been done silently out of great sacrifice by individual members. Theirs is the widow’s mite. Theirs is the blessing of true service.

The president remembered his ancestry, his parents, his children, his business partner, his professional secretaries, members of his high council, stake clerks, and secretaries. And then he stated: “I would not have been able to serve a single week without the help, love, and support of my dear wife.”

In tribute to the bishops, branch presidents, and other leaders, he said, “They serve where the tire hits the road. They have been faithful and loyal to me, as well as to the Lord.”

The president expressed appreciation for his counselors, and for one in particular who declared to him, “You may not wear the hair shirt”—meaning the stake president was never to feel guilty. He had been called by the Lord and was not to feel guilty for difficult decisions that only he could make.

He told of looking in the mirror the day after October general conference and seeing in his mind’s eye the hands of God, kneading the bread dough of his kingdom, and folding him (the stake president) back into the general loaf of the kingdom of God. “Mine,” he said, “was a time to rise for a moment, but now I would become part of the general membership again, as a brother in the gospel of Jesus Christ. And so other lives will now be blessed and raised, for the good of the loaf of God.”

What a wonderful attitude!—a stake president demonstrating and teaching how we believe and pray and study the scriptures, earn our livelihood, and serve our God with love. His life’s stream is right on course.

I began seminary in 2017 in our Pare Ward of the Arue Tahiti Stake. I was in 9th grade in school at the time, and I was eager to be part of this youth group.
During my first year, I woke up before 5 am every weekday to get to seminary on time. I did my readings, and I was very attentive in class. I realized seminary contributed to deepening my relationship with God. Without Him, I would not have been able to successfully pass my school’s National Certificate Exam at the end of year 9.

Some time ago Elder Paul V. Johnson of the Seventy, with his wife, was serving in an Area Presidency in Chile. One Friday he needed to travel 900 miles (1,450 km) from their home in Santiago to reorganize a stake presidency.
After he arrived at his destination on Friday night, he received a call telling him that his wife was in the hospital. When he spoke with Sister Johnson, she explained that she had fallen down some stairs and shattered her kneecap. Assuring him that she was being well cared for and wouldn’t be in surgery until Monday or Tuesday, she encouraged him to finish his assignment to reorganize the stake and preside at the stake conference.
Calmed by her words, Elder Johnson immediately sent an email to his quorum leader in Salt Lake City to report the situation. Then he made plans to continue his assignment. There is a lesson to be learned in his response: first, he reported the situation to his quorum leader, and then he went ahead with his assignment.
The Quorums of the Seventy are organized in such a way that each member has specific stewardship over others, including tender watchcare for emeritus members of the quorum. Because of assignments around the world, quorum members normally cannot visit in person; however, they keep in contact through telephone calls, emails, texts, and other electronic means. Each member is asked to advise his quorum leader immediately of any significant changes in personal or family situations, which is exactly what Elder Johnson did.
In Elder Johnson’s case, his priesthood leader was Elder Claudio R. M. Costa, who was then serving as a member of the Presidency of the Seventy. Elder Costa called Elder Johnson the next morning while Elder Johnson was in the middle of interviewing local leaders. Elder Costa felt that Elder Johnson should return home but listened carefully as Elder Johnson explained why he felt his wife was all right and he could finish the stake reorganization. Elder Costa told Elder Johnson to continue while he did some checking.
About two hours later Elder Costa called Elder Johnson and told him that he had talked with quorum leaders about the situation and that they felt he needed to be with Sister Johnson. Elder Johnson was advised that a ticket was waiting for him at the airport and that Elder Carlos H. Amado was on his way to finish the reorganization of the stake presidency.
When Elder Johnson arrived at the hospital, he found his wife in a great deal of pain. Adding to her distress was the fact that she didn’t speak the language of the medical staff that surrounded her. She needed her husband. The inspired, brotherly concern of his quorum leaders had brought Elder Johnson to her side.
“I feel cared for in this quorum,” said Elder Johnson, “and there is a lot of faith and energy behind that care. I truly feel part of a quorum. I think that if I were ever called into the presidency of an elders quorum, I would be a better president because of my experience in this one.”

“This will be the 10th load of hay,” David’s father called to him. “Drive over to the higher ground.” Young David O. McKay looked across the field to where his father was pointing. The first nine loads they had gathered were full of lesser-quality hay. David knew his father meant for this 10th load of the best hay to go to the bishops’ storehouse as their tithing. But he didn’t understand why they couldn’t give the Lord the same hay they were collecting.
David called back to his father, “No, let us take the hay as it comes.”
David’s father didn’t answer. David was about to repeat himself when he saw his father turn and begin walking straight toward him. Suddenly, the breeze in the hay field was gone, and the sun became feverishly hot. David wiped the sweat from his forehead and the back of his neck. He knew his father was not crossing the field to give him a pat on the back for his snippy answer. He was coming all this way to be sure that David understood something.
“No, David.” His father spoke sternly, yet the calm in his voice made David pay extra close attention. “This is the 10th load, and the best is none too good for God.” David’s father looked closely at his son’s face to make sure he had been listening. Then he turned and walked away.
David swallowed the lump in his throat and then guided his team to the higher ground. As he loaded the cut hay onto the wagon, he began to think of what his father was trying to teach him. While he knew that tithing is a law, just as much as obedience and sacrifice are, David wanted to put their own needs first. But God had said to take the firstlings of the flocks—the very best—and give them to Him (see Deuteronomy 12:6).
“My father gives the best to God, and we get the next best,” David thought. “Perhaps this is how we make the Lord the center of our thoughts and our lives.”
David turned the hay wagon down the dusty road toward the bishops’ storehouse. He drove into the yard and unloaded the hay. It was a sacrifice for his father to give his best hay to the Lord, but David knew his father would have it no other way. He wanted to give his best for the Lord, just as Heavenly Father gave His perfect Son for the world.
As David turned his team back toward home, a good feeling came over him. He was glad his father had taught him the law of tithing. It was a lesson he would remember all his life.

Emily Richards stepped up to the narrow pulpit at the National Woman Suffrage Association meeting in the U.S. capital, Washington, D.C. She knew this was one of the most critical experiences of her life. The year was 1889, and the topics of women’s suffrage in Utah and plural marriage were being fiercely debated. Although Emily was nervous, she felt prepared to speak on behalf of her home, gender, and religion.
One source related, “It was feared that the lady from Utah would not be able to make herself heard throughout the hall—other speakers having failed in that regard—but to the general surprise and delight, her clear tones penetrated to the remotest recesses of the building, and her speech was a veritable triumph.”1
Although there is not a record of what Emily said that day, one journalist reported that she spoke for about half an hour. She gave “an orderly, scholarly presentation” that presented facts and ideas that “disarm[ed] prejudice.” The reporter went on to say that Emily’s words had a “gentle spirit” that softened many hearts that day towards the territory of Utah.2
However, Emily was not always a skilled public speaker. She remembered how Eliza R. Snow, then Relief Society General President, had given her some advice: “The first time [Sister Snow] asked me to speak in meeting, I could not, and she said, ‘Never mind, but when you are asked to speak again, try and have something to say.’”3
Emily took this advice to heart and made sure she was prepared to speak when she was needed. Like Emily Richards, we must be ready at all times to “open [our] mouths” (Doctrine and Covenants 60:2) and proclaim the word of God.

This is a silly example but humor me: when I was in graduate school, we had a group of friends who played flag football every Saturday. We had some great athletes on that field, and the competition was often fierce. One winter, my friend and I decided to train every day and be ready to “shock” our buddies with our increased speed and athleticism. Several times a week, we met to run sprints, perform plyometrics, and practice other drills. After months of preparation, our excitement to play was built up. And it paid off! My friend had a “rival” on the other team. They lined up against each other, and it was so fun to see the surprise on the rival’s face when my friend blew past him with shocking speed!

When we observe the covenants we make at the altar of sacrifice, we discover hidden reservoirs of strength. I once said in exasperation to my wife, Marie, “The Lord placed Adam and Eve on the earth as full-grown people. Why couldn’t he have done that with this boy of ours, the one with the freckles and the unruly hair?” She replied, “The Lord gave us that child to make Christians out of us.”
One night Marie exhausted herself for hours encouraging that child to finish a school assignment to build his own diorama of a Native American village on a cookie sheet. It was a test no hireling would have endured. At first he fought her efforts, but by bedtime, I saw him lay “his” diorama proudly on a counter. He started for his bed, then turned around, raced back across the room, and hugged his mother, grinning with his fourth-grade teeth. Later I asked Marie in complete awe, “How did you do it?” She said, “I just made up my mind that I couldn’t leave him, no matter what.” Then she added, “I didn’t know I had it in me.” She discovered deep, internal wellsprings of compassion because the bonds of her covenants gave her strength to lay down her life for her sheep, even an hour at a time.

President Heber J. Grant tells of a different type of reward that comes from trusting in the Lord. When he was a young man, he heard his bishop in a fast meeting, which was then held on Thursdays (in the early days, we held our fast meetings on Thursdays), make a strong appeal for donations. At that time President Grant had $50 in his pocket which he intended to deposit in the bank. But he was so impressed by his bishop’s appeal that he tendered the whole $50 to the bishop. The bishop took $5 and handed him back $45, stating that $5 was his full share. Then President Grant replied, “Bishop Wooley, by what right do you rob me of putting the Lord in my debt? Didn’t you preach here today that the Lord rewards fourfold? My mother is a widow and she needs two hundred dollars.”

“My boy,” queried the bishop, “do you believe that if I take this other forty-five dollars you will get your two hundred dollars quicker?”

“Certainly,” replied President Grant.

Now here was an expression of trust in the Lord which the bishop could not withstand. He took the remaining $45.

President Grant testified that on his way back to work, “an idea popped” into his head, acting upon which he made $218.50. Speaking on this incident years later, he said, “Someone will say that it would have happened anyway.

“I do not think it would have happened. I do not think I would have got the idea.

“I am a firm believer that the Lord opens up the windows of heaven when we do our duty financially and pours out blessings upon us of a spiritual nature, which are of far greater value than temporal things. But I believe He also gives us blessings of a temporal nature.” (Improvement Era 42:457.)

I had been a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints just a few days when a casual conversation among a group of friends turned to my recent conversion.
Some were intrigued, even fascinated. A few were indifferent. One young woman my age simply and uncompromisingly refused to believe I was Christian.
It was my first taste of trying to explain my beliefs to those who did not share them. I remember feeling utterly frustrated as I tried to penetrate a mind so tightly shuttered that no amount of reasoning could pry it open.
As the Church grows it will face increasing scrutiny, like any major faith, and that will lead to many more face-to-face or online conversations between our members and their families, friends, and associates who don’t share our faith.
Paying attention to some basic principles can help members respond to questions or comments with more confidence.
One of the great advantages that faithful Church members have is that our faith encourages us to “live our religion.” There is a sense of authenticity that comes as friends and associates see the connection between what one says and what one does.
If a Latter-day Saint’s life is his or her best sermon, then our conversations ought also to be open, genuine, and engaged in with a spirit of kindness, even if people ask inappropriate questions or adopt a cynical tone. Our claims to be followers of Jesus Christ are most convincing when our actions are in harmony with our beliefs. When we are answering questions or even criticisms, there will be times when we need a thick skin. We may also need a sense of humor.
In 2007 at a commencement ceremony for BYU–Hawaii graduates, Elder M. Russell Ballard of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles said, “If you live the principles of the gospel [rather than] just study them, that special combination of knowledge will allow you to feel comfortable and prepared to teach what you know to be true—in any setting.”
When we are addressing questions or comments about our faith, it is important to establish some context from the outset.
Rather than simply responding to a series of random questions, it might be helpful to first take 30 seconds to establish a foundation. That can be as simple as explaining that we embrace Jesus Christ as our Savior and accept the Bible’s teachings about His birth, life, ministry, Crucifixion, and Resurrection. We also believe that the Christian world departed from the truths Jesus taught in the Bible and that the Church He established needed to be restored.
Laying out the foundational beliefs of the Church in this way supplies a reference point as the discussion turns to other tenets of the gospel.
As members listen to questions, they can discern the gospel principle at the heart of the question and connect the answer back to the Savior.
For example, why do we send missionaries to Christian countries? Because in His day Jesus sent His messengers two by two “into all the world.” And we do the same today. Why do we frown on cohabitation before marriage? Because Jesus and His Apostles taught the sanctity of marriage and all that goes with it.
We do not need complicated, sophisticated secular arguments when the principles we try to live by come from the Son of God.
Answering our friends’ questions is not about reciting memorized answers. Sharing genuine, personal experiences can invite the Spirit to bear witness and carry the message into the listener’s heart.
One of the greatest hindrances to sharing our faith is being afraid we don’t have the answers. Few people in other churches are experts in their own history or doctrine, and studies show that Latter-day Saints are incredibly well educated in their own faith by comparison.
When someone asks a question about the Church’s doctrine or history that we don’t know, it’s okay to say, “I don’t know.” But we can all share personal experiences to explain how we feel about our faith.
If we relate our own experiences about prayer or fasting or communicating effectively with our families, those experiences can’t be challenged. They are ours, and no one understands them better than we do.
Some people won’t approach a member with questions because they fear being roped into a half-hour lecture. If they ask a casual question, be sensitive to their interest, comfort, and level of understanding. Signaling our sensitivity at the outset can put those who are curious at ease.
Understand that the same conversation isn’t going to work for everyone due to differing backgrounds—religious, secular, and otherwise.
Members of the Church have an unprecedented opportunity to be a force for good in helping clear up misconceptions about what we are not and to increase others’ understanding of who we are and what we believe.
As people learn more about Latter-day Saint beliefs, they may see some distinct differences and yet find some unexpected common ground on which to build better relationships.

Now was the time. My companion and I felt it, and we knew what we had to do. I looked at our friends and spoke with all the faith I had. “We have talked for a few weeks now about the gospel of Jesus Christ,” I said, “and now we want to know if you will be baptized?” The silence hung there for a moment. We had all felt the Spirit that night.
She looked at us, this charming mother and her only child, her 30-year-old daughter. “Yes,” she said, “I suppose I know that I must.” Her daughter nodded her assent as well. We had the commitment. The plans were made. We had a little over two weeks to set up everything. And that was the biggest problem.
Oh, we could baptize, all right. The Hungarian government allowed us that now—not like back in January, when it became angry about our trying to use a hotel swimming pool. No, we had permission to baptize now. We had permission to preach openly and to wear our name tags. The only thing we lacked now was a font. And a place to put it.
We still had no meetinghouse in Hungary. Our tiny branch of about ten members from Budapest, a city of two and a half million people, met every Sunday in the bedroom of our small apartment overlooking the Danube River and the Communist Party building. It was cozy. But when we began sitting on overturned trash cans because we lacked seats, we knew it was time to find a real church house with a baptismal font.
Our mission president continually told us to work toward our goals with faith, and the Lord wouldn’t let us down. It had worked before. This time, though, we had no idea how the Lord could help us reach our goal of baptizing this mother and daughter. As the weather began to turn colder, the outdoor pool we had used before was covered and drained. The hotel pool we had tried to use back in January was off limits, and the Danube was flowing dangerously fast—too fast for the mother, now 60 years old. Time was short, and we were out of ideas.
My companion and I did the only thing we could think of. We prayed, and we prayed hard. But as the baptismal date approached, no solution was in sight.
Two weeks before they were to be baptized, the Lord sent his first miracle. The Church bought a large house in the hills of Buda, large enough for church meetings. Now we had the building, but we still had no font.
Talking with the mother and her daughter was like seeing the glow of a newborn child—we felt renewed in spirit with every visit. We knew they had a deep love for, and faith in, Jesus Christ. We told them of our problem finding a font. They replied that they knew the Lord would provide a way for them to be baptized on the day we had set. “We Hungarians keep our commitments,” said the daughter. “God will keep his.”
Two days before the baptism, we received a call from our mission president. “Good morning, elders,” he said.
“It isn’t a very good morning here, president,” I replied. I was beginning to think the Lord had let us down.
“I cannot agree with you,” he said. “I know it is a wonderful morning. I am coming to see you. And I am bringing your font.”
It was true. When the president arrived, in the back of his car was a portable font, found in a basement somewhere in Germany and rushed to Budapest. It took two days to transport it, two hours to set it up, and 15 hours to fill it with water. But it was a font.
Our friends were elated, but not surprised. “We had faith,” the mother said.
The water in the font was very cold and was colored a light rose from the rust in the house’s aging pipes. No one seemed to notice. We had no electricity in the building yet, so we lit candles. Our hymns were played on a cassette player using batteries, which eventually grew weak and stopped working. So we sang “Praise God from Whom All Blessings Flow” and “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God,” hymns we all knew. Some sang in Hungarian; we sang in English. It all sounded like one tongue to me.
After the baptism, we confirmed them members of the Church and blessed them with the gift of the Holy Ghost. They sat on a rickety chair with a white sheet draped over it. The rest of us sat on the stairs. It was a moment none of us will ever forget.
That night the Lord proved to us again that any seed can grow in any soil when it is watered by faith and receives his light.

On a hot, humid afternoon in May 1895, two missionaries made their way up the rocky, but thickly wooded hills near Smithville, Tennessee. They had been rejected by the townspeople and so had gone to seek converts among the mountain folk, who survived on hilly, low-productive farms. Traveling on foot, without purse or scrip, the elders relied upon the Spirit of the Lord and the hospitality of the people to meet their needs.
Toward evening the missionaries arrived at the humble cabin home of my grandfather, Harvey Anderson Pinegar, and his young family. Grandfather had gone to a meeting to hear them preach and had offered them food and a place for the night, which they eagerly and gratefully accepted. Harvey and his family shared their food, beds, and lodgings with the elders. The three children slept in the loft, Grandfather and Grandmother placed straw pallets on the floor in the corner for themselves, and the elders slept in the only bed. In this humble mountain home the missionaries taught Grandfather and his family the true gospel of Jesus Christ.
Grandfather wrote in his journal,
“I investigated their doctern and I became convinced that they belonged to the only true church upon the Earth. So on the 14th day of May, 1895. … my wife and myself was baptized by Elder Owen M. Sanderson in Sink Creek a few rods above Jones’ Mill in the 7th District of DeKalb County, Tennessee, which caused great dissatisfaction with my folks, however I went on doing the will of my Heavenly Father. I knew the Doctern was of God and not of man.”
About one hundred people witnessed the baptism of Harvey and Josie Pinegar.
There was much opposition among the people in the area toward the “Mormon religion.” Harvey’s happiness at becoming a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was not shared by his brother, sisters, parents, and neighbors. Harvey soon discovered that he would be required to face opposition in the community and in his family. He was serving as a constable at the time. Upon learning of his having joined the Church his bondsmen gave up his bonds—one of these men was his own cousin.
Several times Harvey Pinegar’s cabin became a place of refuge for the missionaries. The elders would help Grandfather board up the windows and doors as a protection against mobs who threatened to tar and feather the elders.
Four years after Grandfather joined the Church, my father, then a young lad eight years old, accompanied his family and the members of two other families to a baptismal service. Grandfather was to baptize his young daughter and the daughters of a neighboring family on that cold December 3, 1899. As they traveled toward the stream at Reynold’s Mill, they were approached by three men on horseback. When the men asked where they were going, Grandfather explained their intentions. The leader threatened to bring a mob upon them if they carried out the baptismal service. Grandfather informed him that he and the 20 people with him would complete their errand regardless of what the man and his associates did. Grandfather and his party continued their journey to Reynold’s Mill.
Arriving at the mill they located a secluded spot for the baptism. The hill above the river was covered with trees, scrub oak, and ivy. My father, young John, was perched on a fallen tree that stretched out across a sandbar into the slow-moving stream. Here he could observe every detail of this sacred ordinance. Grandfather waded out into the stream to find the right depth and then returned to the riverbank for prayer. In the quiet of the prayer John heard the sound of a cracking limb. Opening his eyes and glancing quickly up the hill through the trees he saw the men who had stopped them earlier. They had arrived with a mob to carry out their threat. One of them was by a pile of rocks and was ready to pelt the baptismal participants. Suddenly all eyes were opened as a big redbone hound owned by the leader of the mob bounded down to within a few feet of my father. Young John looked fearfully at the hound as it growled menacingly. These men and their associates were determined to stop the baptisms from being performed. My Grandfather Pinegar courageously proceeded with the services.
Convinced now that these Mormon families were unafraid of his threat, the mob leader commanded his dog to attack Grandfather Pinegar. At this moment an amazing thing happened. The dog let out a low growl and his hair bristled like that on an angry hog’s back. Suddenly it bared its teeth and turned on its master, leaping at his throat and knocking him to the ground. The rest of the mob fled in fear when they saw the dog turn on its owner. As soon as the astonished leader could free himself from his dog, he left in hurried pursuit of his associates, with the dog yelping close at his heels.
A miracle had occurred! The Pinegar family and their neighbors thanked the Lord for their deliverance, and the baptismal service continued without further interruption.
That evening the families returned to Grandfather’s home. After darkness had fallen upon the mountain cabin, the troublemakers returned and again threatened to mob my grandfather and his Mormon friends. As they taunted him from the gate, Grandfather commanded them in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ to leave. The mob departed and did not return.
This experience told repeatedly to us by my father and grandfather has served as a source of strength to the members of the Pinegar family for generations. It has taught me appreciation for my grandfather’s loyalty to the Lord and has given me an assurance that right will prevail against all odds or opposition.
The courage of my grandfather and those who were with him to stand firm for that which is right brought assistance from the Lord. A quiet, peaceful strength came into their hearts, giving them the ability to face the opposition with courage and confidence. There have been occasions in my own life when the memory of this event in my grandfather’s life has given me the strength to resist persuasions to do wrong.
I am thankful for the loyalty and faith of my grandfather. His fearlessness established a heritage of faith in and love for the Lord. The sacrifices made by him and others of my forebears have made possible the many blessings of freedom and religious liberty that I enjoy today. I want to show my loyalty to my grandfather by also being loyal to the Lord.
We may prove our loyalty to the Lord by being obedient to parents, being respectful of our brothers and sisters, following Church leaders, and fulfilling our church callings and priesthood responsibilities. Loyalty includes being obedient to the laws of the land and the commandments of God. Loyalty to employer and employee, demonstrated by an honest day’s work and an honest day’s pay, is part of our loyalty to the Lord, for what we do unto each other we do unto Him. It means standing up for that which is right when our associates would persuade us to do wrong. It may mean standing alone in the defense of truth and right.
You may look into the lives of your family members and find similar examples of loyalty to our Heavenly Father that may be a source of strength and courage to you.
May each of us be grateful for the rich heritage we have received from our loyal ancestors, and may we strive with true faith to be true to these noble souls by being loyal to the Lord.

In September of 1840, Joseph Smith, Sr. gathered his family around him. This venerable patriarch was dying and wanted to leave his blessing on his beloved wife and children. Hyrum, the eldest living son, asked his father to intercede with heaven when he arrived there so the enemies of the Church “may not have so much power” over the Latter-day Saints. Father Smith then laid his hands upon Hyrum’s head and blessed him to have “peace … sufficient … to accomplish the work which God has given you to do.” Knowing of Hyrum’s lifelong faithfulness, he concluded this last blessing with the promise that Hyrum would “be as firm as the pillars of heaven unto the end of [his] days.”

May I share with you a recently published letter to “Dear Abby” that seems to clinch a point in this area of vision and values.
“Dear Abby: Cold chills ran up my spine when I read the letter from the heartbroken mother, whose daughter, a nurse, was marrying an amputee. (He lost both his legs when he stepped on a mine in Vietnam.) The mother said her daughter was beautiful and could just as easily have married ‘a whole man.’ I am sure many people think my husband could have married ‘a whole woman’ instead of me. You see, when I was three I was shot with a .22 rifle. Thank God I am still alive, although my left side is paralyzed. I can walk and do most things other women can do. But best of all, a wonderful man thought I was ‘whole’ enough to marry. He is handsome, kind, and faithful, and he treats me like a queen. We’ve been happily married for ten years. I still can’t believe my good luck. Sign me, Freddy’s wife.”
“Dear Freddy’s Wife: It’s more than ‘luck.’ You must have a lot going for you. Congratulations.”
May I add my congratulations to you, too, Abby, for taking someone by the hand and giving her a lift.

When I had my first baby, I was overjoyed about having this little person in my home and couldn’t believe how much I loved him. But I also felt overwhelmed with how much care he required and my inability to live my life as freely as I had before. I kept thinking about how life used to be simpler. I thought about how I used to be able to shower and do my hair each morning. I thought about how I used to like my body better. I thought about how I used to be more well-rested and therefore more fun. I felt awful when I focused on my past like this.

Eventually I realized I could not find answers in the past. I had to focus on the future. I had to start visualizing myself doing the things I wanted to in my life, but with a baby. I had to tap into the person I wanted to become, not the person I used to be. This is not always easy, but it’s available if you’re willing to open yourself up to possibility.

At the top of Mr. Gellért, high above the magnificent city of Budapest, Hungary, two sister missionaries search for a secluded spot in a grove of trees where they can be alone and unobserved.
They open their scriptures and bring out a typewritten copy of a prayer—the apostolic blessing, newly translated into the Hungarian language, that Elder Russell M. Nelson of the Quorum of the Twelve pronounced on Hungary in April 1987. It was here on Mt. Gellért—overlooking the Danube River, with the hills of Buda on one side and the plains of Pest on the other—that Elder Nelson originally gave this prayer, asking the Lord to pour out his blessings upon the nation and its people. Now, kneeling reverently among the trees, the sisters quietly review the prayer aloud in their own tongue. Overhead, a warm breeze gently stirs the leaves, and the bright sun shines in a cloudless sky. For a few moments, the sisters are enveloped in a spirit of warmth and peace.

“Look!” Danielle lounged against the bed, holding a pencil “cigarette” between her fingers.
“You look like a girl in the magazines,” Sidney said. “Will you smoke when you grow up?”
Danielle frowned. “I don’t know.” They all knew that her mom smoked.
“People die from smoking. Aren’t you worried about your mom?” Jessica asked.
Danielle tossed the pencil down. “Remember the policewoman who came to school and talked about drugs? Well, I went home after school that day and asked Mom to quit.”
“Wow!” Jessica exclaimed. “What did she say?”
“She said that she’d tried to quit when I was a baby, but it was too hard.”
“That sounds like my parents,” Sidney said. “When I told them that drinking alcohol was bad, my dad said, ‘It is a tradition in our family to drink wine, and I’m not about to break tradition!’”
“It’s strange,” Danielle said. “They teach us in school not to do something, but everyone still does it—even our parents and teachers.” She glanced at Jessica. “Everyone but your family.”
Jessica’s face grew hot. She didn’t know what to say. She was relieved when Sidney’s mom called to her. “Jessica, your mom is here!”
Jessica ran for the door. “Bye, Danielle. Bye, Sidney. I had a lot of fun.”
As Jessica joined her mom, she thought, It’s too bad Danielle’s mom smokes. If Mom smoked, I’d worry about it all the time.
Mom saw her frown. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.” Jessica jumped into the car. “I’m just glad you’re so healthy.”
Mom started the car and pulled into traffic. “I’ll feel healthier after this baby is born.”
“A few weeks, right?”
“Right. That’s why Grandpa is watching you kids tonight. Dad and I are going on a date before life gets too busy.”
“Yahoo! Another late night!”
Mom laughed. “But not too late. Tomorrow is Sunday.”
Later, when Kaylie and Meghan were in bed, Jessica and Grandpa played games and talked.
“You’ve been painting your nails, Popcorn.”
Jessica smiled at her nickname. “Sidney and Danielle painted my nails.”
“I remember them—two little pixies.”
“That was a long time ago, Grandpa. We’re growing up now. I’m graduating from Primary in a few months.”
“A young woman! Not my granddaughter!” Grandpa harrumphed. “Pretty soon you’ll think you know everything—just like your mother at your age. Why, she was the one who persuaded me to become an active Latter-day Saint.”
“Grandpa!” Jessica gasped. “I thought you were an active member of the Church all your life.”
Grandpa shook his head. “I joined the Church when your mother was a young girl. Before I joined it, I smoked and drank. Later, I went back to my old bad habits. It was hard to quit again.” Grandpa shrugged. “I finally just gave up trying.”
Jessica stared at him. “And Mom got you to quit?”
“She came home one day singing about eternal families. She wanted to know which temple we were sealed in. When I told her that I couldn’t go to the temple, she cried.”
“But you were married in the temple, Grandpa! Mom told me.”
“Yes, but only after preparing myself. I had to work at it.”
“Did you ever feel like smoking again?” Jessica asked, remembering Danielle’s mother.
“All the time. But whenever I did, your mother knew. I can see a lot of her in you.”
Grandpa poured them each a glass of apple juice, and they went out to the back porch swing. Something was troubling Jessica, but how could she explain it to Grandpa? Finally she said, “Grandpa, our family is different.”
Grandpa grinned. “Downright peculiar.”
“Grandpa!” Jessica was relieved that he wasn’t angry, but she still needed help. She remembered how embarrassed she had felt when Sidney said that Jessica’s family did everything right. Why was she embarrassed about being good?
Grandpa took a sip of his juice. “So you don’t like being different.”
Jessica shrugged. “Danielle’s mother smokes, and Sidney’s parents drink wine, but our family never does anything like that. Some of the kids at school watch movies that Dad and Mom won’t even see. I just feel like I’m kind of strange.”
Grandpa smiled. “You are strange, Popcorn.”
“Grandpa, I’m not joking. It’s hard to be different. I’m afraid I’ll lose my friends.”
Grandpa got up and went inside. He came back with his well-worn scriptures and thumbed through the pages. “‘But ye are a chosen generation,’” he read aloud, “‘a royal priesthood, an holy nation, a peculiar people; that ye should shew forth the praises of him who hath called you out of darkness into his marvellous light.’”* He looked up. “Do you know what that means?”
“That we’re supposed to be different?”
“Yes, and we are different. You accepted the name of Christ at baptism, Jessica, and you promised to follow Him. Now you are getting old enough to see more clearly what that means and the wonderful difference it makes.”
Jessica thought it over. “My friends see the difference, too, Grandpa.”
“If they are true friends, they’ll stand by you. Some of them may even stand with you.”
Jessica thought, Maybe Grandpa’s right. Mom stood for what was right, and Grandpa quit smoking. What if I stand by Danielle?
She smiled up at Grandpa. “I’m glad Mom helped you quit smoking. Otherwise we might not be a forever family.”
“I’m glad, too, Popcorn. I’m glad, too.”
“Whether we like it or not, each [member of the Church] is set apart from the world. … Though discipleship with the Lord requires times of standing humbly and courageously apart, the Lord will not forsake us. He also gives us the association of others who can edify [inspire] and strengthen us as we go about our work of blessing others in the world.”President Gordon B. Hinckley(Ensign, September 2001, pages 2, 5.)

As I finished a work trip and drove along the country road, I felt both thankfulness and great loneliness. I thought about the accomplishments of the week with my new job—but then there was the loneliness I felt heading toward my empty apartment. It was my first time away from home and family since my mission.

My mind wandered back several months to the morning I had packed my car and left home. With everyone else already at work or school, only my mother was there to give me last bits of encouragement and advice for living alone. As I pulled out of the driveway, my mother stood in the doorway blowing kisses and trying to hold back tears.

“Get a grip,” I said aloud to myself. “I’m a 24-year-old man.” I thought about how I had come to Chicago and had been awestruck with the size of the city. I had looked down from the 110th floor of the Chicago Sears Tower at one of the busiest intersections of freeway in the world, then out to see one of the busiest airports in the world. More than seven million people lived in the greater Chicago area, I was told. Looking down at the thousands of cars, I imagined the individuals in each car and how God knew each one. Is it possible? I had wondered. How is it possible that He knows each of us?

My mind returned to the emptiness of my car and the country road, and I prayed for comfort. I told Heavenly Father I had spent two years on a mission testifying that I know He lives and knows each of us personally but that my heart was filled with loneliness and doubt. Did He know how terribly alone I felt?

As I prayed I noticed in my rearview mirror a big truck following close behind me. I gradually slowed and pulled slightly to the right to allow him to pass. The driver sped up and waved at me as he passed. Once in front of me, he slowed down and pulled to the right as I had done, inviting me to pass him now. This isn’t what I had in mind to keep me company, I thought.

As I accelerated and passed the truck, the driver waved again, and this time he blew his horn, startling me. I quickly put some space between us. But before I could react, there he was, alongside my car and waving again. This time as he passed me, he motioned for me to pull over.

The back of his truck now filled my entire windshield view. That’s when I noticed the bumper sticker: Happiness Is Family Home Evening. “Wait a minute,” I said aloud. “He must be a member of the Church, but how does he know I am?” I followed him to a shopping area, and he motioned to a fast-food restaurant. I glanced over at the familiar bumper sticker and smiled back in agreement. It was, after all, dinnertime, and I was hungry.

“Hi, I’m Jake,” he said, extending his hand as we entered the restaurant. “I noticed the Brigham Young University sticker in your rear window and thought you might be LDS,” he continued. “Thought you might like to get something to eat.”

“You’re right, I am LDS. And I’m hungry too,” I said. “My name’s Kelly. I saw your family home evening bumper sticker and thought you must be a member also.” He confirmed that he was. We sat down at a small table.

“I’ve been a member for only one year,” Jake began, even before we started to eat. “All my life I felt there was a God who knew and cared about His children here on earth. But it wasn’t until I heard the plan of salvation that I gained a real knowledge of God’s love for each one of us.” Here was a complete stranger bearing his testimony to me. “When I came up behind you in my truck and saw your BYU sticker, I had an overwhelming feeling that I should meet you,” he said.

After a while, Jake said, “Can you imagine how different this world would be if everyone knew what we know: that God knows each one of us, loves us, and wants us to be happy?”

What a wonderful testimony, I thought as Jake explained that he and his wife were planning to be sealed in the temple later that month. My mind filled with thoughts of gratitude: toward Jake for sharing his testimony with me at a time when I needed it most; for the true Church of Jesus Christ, which makes friends out of strangers; for my family, who taught me the gospel; for my mission and the opportunity it gave me to share my testimony with others; for a loving Heavenly Father who knows and cares for each one of His children; and for good Latter-day Saints like Jake.

One weekend our school lost a big game. Some teachers in the lab vigorously discussed the loss, repeatedly using the Lord’s name in vain. Lincoln approached the teachers and asked them if they would please stop speaking about Jesus Christ that way.
“Does that really bother you?” they asked with some doubt.
“Yes,” Lincoln replied. “Jesus Christ is my best friend.”
At that moment, my investigation of the Church changed from an intellectual exercise to a question of faith. If this religion produced men like this, it was Christian in every way that mattered.
As Lincoln and I left that night, I asked if I could attend church with him sometime. After going to church, I asked him if I could have a copy of the Book of Mormon and if I could meet with the missionaries.
For two years I investigated the Church and spent time with its members. I saw a consistent pattern of sincere men and women diligently striving to be disciples of the Master. On numerous occasions the Holy Ghost confirmed to me that Jesus Christ, whom I had always tried my best to serve, really had restored His Church in our day. It was overseen by prophets and apostles and led directly by Him.
I was baptized and have now enjoyed more than a dozen years of blessings from the restored gospel and its teachings. How grateful I am that Heavenly Father answered my prayer to find a lab partner who would help me learn what I needed to learn.

Eliza moved to Kirtland to join the Saints for a time and taught school. When she returned to her family’s home at the end of the term, her old friends and neighbors asked about the “strange people” with whom she associated. “I was exceedingly happy in testifying of what I had both seen and heard,” she later wrote. Eliza determined to change her life and live permanently with the Latter-day Saints. Her conversion deepened even further in 1837 when she lived with Joseph Smith and his family. Again, she observed. “I had ample opportunity of judging his daily walk and conversation,” she recalled. She saw much more than the miraculous events of the Kirtland Temple dedication—she saw the life and relationships of a prophet of God. “The more I made his acquaintance, the more cause I found to appreciate him in his divine calling.”7