Gospel Story Finder

Tricia was bored. It seemed like her father and mother had been visiting with Sister Clark forever. Tricia looked around at her brothers and sisters, and they looked just as bored as she felt. She wondered again why they needed to have family home evening with Sister Clark.
“Don’t you think Sister Clark gets tired of us going to her house?” Tricia asked her parents after they left Sister Clark’s home.
“Not at all,” her mother replied.
“I feel that our visits are the highlight of her whole week,” her father added. “She has been lonely since Brother Clark died last year.”
“But don’t you think she would like to have her privacy?” Tricia asked.
“Why don’t you try something,” her mother suggested. “Try imagining everything you can think of that Sister Clark does in a day. List them all on a piece of paper and we’ll see how much time that takes.”
“OK,” Tricia agreed. As soon as they got home, Tricia ran into the kitchen and got a piece of paper and a pen. She sat at the table and thought carefully. She decided to list everything Sister Clark might do in a day. First, she would wake up and get dressed. Next, she would fix breakfast, eat, and brush her teeth. Tricia smiled. She already had five things listed on her paper. She would show her parents how busy Sister Clark really was. After that, Sister Clark would read the newspaper or write letters to her children.
“Oh, no she wouldn’t,” Tricia thought suddenly. “She only had one daughter who died in an accident when she was 13. Sister Clark wouldn’t write letters to her children or grandchildren because she doesn’t have any.”
Tricia tried to swallow a lump that had formed in her throat, but it stuck uncomfortably. She tried to think of what family Sister Clark had to whom she could write a letter.
“Mrs. Benton!” Tricia cried happily. She remembered Sister Clark’s sister, Mrs. Benton, who had visited her last summer. But as Tricia began to write Mrs. Benton’s name on her paper, she remembered that Sister Clark and her sister didn’t get along very well. Sister Clark probably wouldn’t write a letter to her only sister either.
Tricia drew in the corner of her paper as she tried to think of what else Sister Clark would do to occupy her day. When she couldn’t think of anything, she drew some more. Finally, Tricia decided that Sister Clark would probably watch a morning news program and wash the dishes. Then there was that afghan she was working on. She liked to make caramels and give them to people in the ward. Of course, she might do some cleaning, but her house was always so spotless.
“No wonder she always seems so happy to see us,” Tricia said out loud. “We really are the highlight of her whole week.”
“You’re absolutely right,” her father said. Tricia looked up and realized that her father had been standing behind her for a while. “Is it really so bad to visit Sister Clark every week?” he asked quietly.
The lump returned to Tricia’s throat, and she could not answer. She shook her head and looked down at her paper. It had more doodles on it than items in her list. She wadded up the paper and threw it away. Her father held out his arms to her and she rushed into his waiting hug.
“It’s not bad visiting Sister Clark, Daddy,” she whispered. “Actually, I’m really glad that we share our family home evenings with a friend.”

Nina Bazarskaya lives in Voronezh (about 400 kilometers south of Moscow). She works as a professor of English there. At a young age, she learned about God, but she never went to church and didn’t read the Bible until age 40.
Her husband, Oleg, a physicist, “was a thorough atheist,” she recalls, “and at the beginning was amused by my faith and prayers. …
“The year 1985 brought great changes into my spiritual life. I was able to go to church openly, fearing neither the KGB nor any unpleasantness at work. … Then came September 1991 and my first-ever international linguistics conference in Zvenigorod, near Moscow.”
During a conference session, Nina felt compelled to answer an American professor’s question about the current religious climate in Russia. Her sincere expression of gratitude for her ability to speak openly of religion touched many people in the room, including Dr. Robert W. Blair from Brigham Young University, who had posed the question. They soon became acquainted, and Nina invited him to Voronezh.
In the spring of 1992 Brother Blair visited Nina and Oleg and attended Orthodox Easter services with them. “I had been eagerly awaiting this event,” Nina writes. But “the service did not move me at all. … I returned home discouraged, convinced that my personal sins had not allowed me to experience any feelings of redemption.”
Then, in the summer of 1992, students from Brigham Young University arrived to teach English. Nina attended one of their Sunday meetings and was struck by the love and warmth she found there.
“I wanted to become like them, and I wanted my son, Aleksandr, to be with them. These were … people unlike any others I knew.”
At first she thought it would be possible to remain a member of the Orthodox Church while living the principles exemplified by her new LDS friends. But it soon became clear that she could not. She was torn between remaining with her traditional faith and joining the people she wanted to be like.
“This choice would not allow me a moment’s peace. All the while it seemed to me that by choosing the Mormons I would betray the faith of my fathers and that God would not forgive me for this apostasy. I prayed and asked God for an answer, and it came.
“One day … while I was sitting on the bank of a river gazing into the water and persistently thinking about the choice I had to make, I perceived a distinct voice that said I would not betray anyone, that I would simply progress further and believe more deeply.
“It’s difficult to describe the feelings I experienced upon hearing this voice: surprise, relief, happiness. … I was baptized on 15 December 1992, on the eve of the students’ flight back to America.
“My life changed. I became more tranquil, tolerant, and patient. Problems in our family life gradually diminished. For the first time in my life I understood the meaning of the words ‘quiet happiness,’ that is to say, harmony with oneself and peace of mind. During that year I became convinced that faith can grow, and much that I had doubted a year ago now seemed true and right.
“I don’t know what first influenced my husband, whether it was the example of my son and me or his interaction with the students, the mission president, or the missionaries, but in September 1993 he began to attend church regularly. … On January 15, 1994, he was baptized.”
Sister Bazarskaya has served in many callings since her baptism, including Relief Society president. Her husband became president of the Voronezh Branch. Their son, Aleksandr, served in the Latvia Riga Mission.

One day I was fasting because I was troubled by many difficulties, and I opened the July 2007 issue of the Liahona. I decided to read From the Life of President Spencer W. Kimball, the episode called “Resist Evil Influences,” which I don’t usually read because it is in the children’s section. This story helped me flee from the bad influences that surrounded me that day, and I was fortified by the message. I encourage everyone to read all the sections of the Liahona.
The Liahona is a light and a protection for me. It is the first tool I use to proclaim the gospel to my friends.
Arlette Azi, Ivory Coast

When their friends or family members play sports, Stephen’s and Richard’s participation is limited. But the two boys don’t see themselves as handicapped. They always give everything their best shot.
For example, when Richard (whose reflexes are better than Stephen’s) got a skateboard, Stephen wanted to ride it too. He didn’t give up until he had learned to balance and roll slowly down the street.
“He’s got real stick-to-itiveness,” Brother Frustaci says. “Neither of them gives up.”

My mother showed me how important the gathering of Israel is by helping full-time missionaries teach and share the gospel. One time I joined her to find the home of a sister in the ward who hadn’t attended church for some time. We almost got lost because we didn’t know exactly where she lived. Instead of being irritated, my mother diligently looked for that sister’s home. Like the woman in the parable of the lost coin (see Luke 15:8–10), she found the sister and rejoiced.
The way my mother gave her best for the Lord’s work, not only in sharing the gospel but also in other Church callings, helped me realize that everyone must serve the Lord, even in small ways.

Some years ago I listened intently as a man well beyond middle age told me of an experience in his family history. The widowed mother who had given birth to him and his brothers and sisters had gone to her eternal and well-earned reward. The family assembled at the home and surrounded the large dining room table. The small metal box in which Mother had kept her earthly treasures was opened reverently. One by one each keepsake was brought forth. There was the wedding certificate from the Salt Lake Temple. “Oh, now Mother could be with Dad.” Then there was the deed to the humble home where each child had in turn entered upon the stage of life. The appraised value of the house had little resemblance to the worth Mother had attached to it.

Then there was discovered a yellowed envelope which bore the marks of time. Carefully the flap was opened and from inside was taken a homemade valentine. Its simple message, in the handwriting of a child, read, “I love you, Mother.” Though she was gone, by what she held sacred, Mother taught yet another lesson. A silence permeated the room, and every member of the family made a pledge not only to remember, but also to honor mother.

How blessed we are to have a living prophet in these last days. What a life-stirring compass is the First Presidency Message by President Gordon B. Hinckley in the May 1999 Liahona (English). This message, “Life’s Obligations,” is so rich and touching. It has strengthened my testimony of the living prophet of God. I spend time every day reading portions of this message.
On one occasion, I went to a restaurant and took this message with me. One of my clients asked to read it. After reading it, he asked for a copy of it. This man confessed that the message is “inspired and really applies to present-day life.”
Attah Frederick,Bauchi Branch, Jos Nigeria District

Andrew stood in front of the mirror and scowled at himself. He decided he looked stupid. Who wanted to wear a tie anyway? “I feel like I’m choking,” he said to his dad.
“Loosen your tie,” said Dad. “Maybe you have it on too tight.”
Andrew slid his finger between his collar and the knot of the tie and pulled. He still felt like he was choking. “How come Amanda has to get married, anyway?”
“Because that’s what little girls do when they grow up,” Dad said. “Come on, Sport, it’s time to go. We don’t want to be late for your sister’s wedding. You look fine.”
In the car, Andrew slumped down in the seat until his chin was nearly resting on his chest, and stared straight ahead. This morning Amanda had been in the bathroom for what seemed like nine hours. He had heard her singing “Families Can Be Together Forever,” and when she got to the part that goes “I want to marry in God’s temple for all eternity,” she sang really loud.
Andrew tugged at his tie again, and a mean, mad feeling settled in his chest. If families are supposed to be together forever, why did Amanda want to leave them and marry Brad? She wasn’t even riding to the temple with the family. Brad had come earlier to get her, and she had gone with him. She hadn’t even waved good-bye.
“Here we are,” Dad said, stopping the car. Andrew got out slowly. He could see a carpet of grass a little way up the hill, then flowers, and at the top, the Jordan River Temple. The statue of the Angel Moroni on the spire shone golden in the sunlight.
“Andrew,” Mom said, “let’s go. Do you have your Friend to read?”
“Yes,” he said. They walked together up the sidewalk, and the temple seemed to get taller and whiter with every step. He wished that Amanda was with them. She would’ve been holding his hand or fixing his collar or pointing to the ducks that were waddling across the lawn.
The temple doors opened silently, and they stepped inside. A woman in a long white dress was standing there smiling. “Welcome,” she said quietly.
“Good morning, Sister,” said Dad. “We’re here for the Smithton–Peters wedding. Is it all right if my son sits in the waiting room? His cousin will be here soon to sit with him.”
“Yes,” said the woman. “I’ll get him settled while you go on in.” She put her hand on Andrew’s shoulder and led him to a glassed-in room full of chairs and sofas. “Here we are,” she said. “We have lots of chairs, so choose any one you want. Change chairs every five minutes if you like. I’ve sat in all of them myself, and they’re all comfortable.” She told him that if he needed anything, to let her know, then went back to the door to greet people.
“Great,” Andrew grumbled quietly. “Here I am by myself. I’m just the little brother, and no one cares, anyway.” He plopped himself on a soft chair. He didn’t even want to read. He just felt left out and sorry for himself. He closed his eyes.
The door to the waiting room opened, and he heard someone come in and sit down on the chair next to him. “Hey, Andy,” his cousin Ernie whispered.
Andrew opened his eyes. “You look funny in a suit.”
“Thanks.” Ernie looked at Andrew for a minute. “What’s the matter, man?”
“How come we don’t get to go in?” Andrew scowled, looking through the glass wall at men in white suits, sitting at a desk and checking people’s recommends.
“We’re not old enough yet.”
“How come we have to be old enough?”
“For the same reason you have to be eight to be baptized and twelve to get the priesthood and nineteen to go on a mission. You have to be old enough to understand things.”
That made sense. Andrew didn’t understand lots of things—like why Amanda wanted to leave their family. He still felt mad. “I don’t know why Amanda wants to get married at all,” he said. “She never even talks to me anymore.”
Ernie grinned. “Jealous, huh? Think she won’t love you anymore?”
Andrew shrugged, but he did think that a little bit. She hadn’t had time to take him to the library or out for ice cream or anything lately because she was always with Brad or doing something for the wedding.
Ernie picked up a copy of the Book of Mormon that was on a table and started to read. Andrew knew that he was trying to get ready for his mission, so he didn’t bother him. Instead, he watched the second hand sweep around and around the face of a wall clock. When he watched the seconds, the minutes seemed to go faster.
He wondered what his sister was doing. He wondered if she would even think about him at all.
Next he watched people coming into the temple, all of them dressed in Church clothes and most of them carrying little suitcases. His dad had told him that the suitcases had white clothes in them because everyone wears white in the temple, like the lady by the door. She was still smiling at everyone who came in.
Andrew had never been in such a quiet place. It was even quieter than church because there were no babies crying or loud talking. People even seemed to walk more quietly. The longer he listened to the stillness, the quieter he felt. His tie didn’t choke him anymore, and he let his shoulders relax against the back of the chair. It was nice to not feel mad for a while. The second hand on the clock kept sweeping around.
“Ernie,” he whispered, “why is it so quiet? Why do I feel good in here?”
Ernie looked up from the scriptures and smiled. “Remember how you felt after you got baptized and confirmed?” Andrew nodded. “How you felt warm and good and quiet because the Holy Ghost was there?” Andrew nodded again. “Well, since this is Heavenly Father’s house, His Spirit is here all the time. That’s why it feels good.”
“I like it,” whispered Andrew.
“So do I.” Ernie bent his head over his book again.
Andrew closed his eyes. He wondered if the feeling was even stronger inside the temple than it was by the front door.
“Hey, Andy,” Ernie said, bumping his shoulder against Andrew’s, “they’re coming out.”
Andrew opened his eyes. The foyer was filled with people he knew—aunts and uncles, his grandparents, his mom and dad. Brad’s mom and dad—but he couldn’t see Amanda.
“Let’s go outside and wait for them, OK?” said Ernie.
In the bright sunshine, Andrew looked at the water fountain in front of the temple. He stood on one foot, then the other and wondered if Amanda would ever come out. Maybe she’d forgotten all about him.
He looked up and saw her coming. Brad was holding her hand, and in her other hand, she had a bunch of pink flowers. She was still dressed in white, and they both looked so happy that they almost glowed.
“Andrew,” Amanda called. Pulling Brad over to where Andrew stood, she bent down and hugged him. Andrew just stood there for a moment. Then he put his arms around her and hugged back. Her hair tickled his nose.
“I love you,” Amanda said.
“You do? I thought you loved Brad more than me.”
Amanda looked surprised. “I do love Brad,” she said. “But you’re still the only little brother I have.”
Brad reached out and messed up Andrew’s hair. “Guess you’re my brother now too.”
Andrew squinted up at Brad. “You’re part of my family now?” He hadn’t thought about it that way.
“Sure,” laughed Brad, “and since families are forever, I hope you like me. Think I’ll make a good big brother?”
Andrew had never had a big brother before. It might be fun. “Sure!” He wanted to laugh and sing and dance. Instead, he stepped back, looked up to where the statue of Moroni was, and smiled.

“Roberto,” Mamá called. “Time for dinner!”
Roberto forgot all about the cars he was playing with and ran to the table. Papá and Carlos were already sitting in their places. Roberto could smell his favorite food, a steaming bowl of fideos. He climbed into his seat and reached for the slippery noodles.
“Roberto, did you forget something?” Papá asked.
Roberto slid down and raced to the bathroom. He washed his hands and dried them quickly. Mamá was just sitting down at the table when Roberto got back. He climbed up on the chair beside her and reached for the noodles again.
This time Mamá stopped him. “Roberto, have you forgotten something?” Roberto looked around. Everyone’s arms were folded, and Carlos was bowing his head. Roberto folded his arms and bowed his head too. Papá asked Carlos to pray.
Roberto heard Carlos thank Heavenly Father for the food, but then Roberto began to think about Mamá’s yummy fideos and he didn’t listen to the rest of the prayer. As soon as Carlos said “Amen,” Roberto grabbed the serving spoon. He piled the noodles on his plate until Mamá took the spoon away.
“Eat that much,” she said. “Then if you’re still hungry, you can have more.”
When he finished all the noodles on his plate, Roberto wasn’t hungry at all. He couldn’t eat one more bite, not even when Mamá brought out the flan she had made for dessert. He watched Carlos smile as he spooned the custard into his bowl. Roberto wished everyone would hurry and finish so that he could go back to his cars.
At last Papá leaned back and smiled at Mamá. “That was wonderful,” he said. “Thank you.”
“Yes, thank you, Mamá,” said Carlos.
“May I be excused?” Roberto asked.
Roberto played until bedtime. Carlos helped him make buildings and houses out of blocks. They made tunnels to drive their cars under. They were almost done making a city when Mamá announced, “Bedtime.”
After their prayers, Papá told Roberto and Carlos a story. It was a story from the Bible about when Jesus Christ helped ten men who were lepers. “Do you know what a leper is, Roberto?” Papá asked.
“A big cat!”
Papá laughed. “No, that’s a leopard. Lepers are people who are very sick—so sick that sometimes they have to go away and live by themselves. The Savior made the lepers well again so they could go home and live with their families. But only one of the men remembered to say thank you.”
“Oh,” Roberto said. “Why?”
“I don’t know why they didn’t thank Jesus. What do you think, Carlos?”
Carlos thought for a moment. “I think they were so happy to go home that they forgot all about it.”
Papá nodded. “And what do you think, Roberto?”
Roberto suddenly jumped out of his bed. “Just a minute,” he said. “I remembered something.” He ran downstairs.
Mamá was putting away the dinner dishes. She was surprised to see Roberto. “Aren’t you supposed to be in bed?”
“I have to tell you something first. You made my favorite food for me, but I forgot to say gracias (thank you).”
Mamá smiled. “You’re welcome. I like to do things for you, especially when you remember to say thank you.”
Roberto ran back upstairs to his bedroom. Carlos was listening to Papá finish the story. “Thank you for playing with me today,” Roberto told Carlos. “And thank you, Papá, for telling me stories about Jesus.”
“You’re welcome,” Papá said and turned off the light. “Good night, Roberto. Good night, Carlos.”
But Roberto didn’t go right to sleep. He lay still and thought of the many things he was thankful for. He felt happy, and he wished he could give Heavenly Father a hug. At last he slipped out of bed and said another prayer. This time he really meant it when he thanked Heavenly Father for fideos, and for Mamá, Papá, and Carlos. “And gracias,” he added, “for helping me remember to say gracias.”

I noted that we also bear our testimonies by our lives. In World War II I was stationed at an army camp in Pennsylvania. We lived in a little ward in which our stake patriarch also lived. His name was William G. Stoops. Brother Stoops worked at a machine shop in the little town of Waynesboro, Pennsylvania. Everyone called him “Pappy.” He was a kindly, gentle, wonderful, exemplary member of the Church. All who met him honored and admired him. One time a nonmember with whom he worked said something like this: “I don’t know much about the Mormon church. I have never met with the missionaries, and I have never studied the doctrine. I have never been to one of their services, but I know Pappy Stoops; and if the Church produces men like Pappy Stoops, it has to have much good in it.” We never know the power of our own example for either good or bad.

It happened again while I was serving as a bishop. I received a phone call from a woman who had made a serious mistake and now faced a difficult, life-changing decision. As I visited with her, I felt I knew the answer to her problem, but I also felt strongly that I should not give her that answer—she needed to obtain it for herself. My words to her were “I believe God will tell you what to do if you would ask Him.” She later reported that she did ask Him and He did tell her.

When the rescued sufferers got close to the Salt Lake Valley, Brigham Young convened a meeting on this block. He directed the Saints in the valley to receive the sufferers into their homes, make them comfortable, and administer food and clothing to them. Said President Young: “Some you will find with their feet frozen to their ankles; some are frozen to their knees and some have their hands frosted. … We want you to receive them as your own children, and to have the same feeling for them” (Hafen, Handcarts to Zion, p. 139).

When the rescuers brought the Willie handcart pioneers into this valley, it is recorded by Captain Willie: “On our arrival there the Bishops of the different Wards took every person, who was not provided with a home, to comfortable quarters. Some had their hands and feet badly frozen; but everything which could be done to alleviate their sufferings, was done. … Hundreds of the Citizens flocked round the wagons on our way through the City, cordially welcoming their Brethren and Sisters to their mountain home” (James G. Willie, in Journal History of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, 9 Nov. 1856, p. 15).

When Wilford was 17 years old, his father arranged for him to continue going to school.
Wilford: But Father, I can’t afford to attend school in West Hartford!
Father: If you do chores for my friend, he will pay your room and board.
Wilford went to school but became terribly homesick.
Wilford: I miss my family, and I want to return home!
In order to avoid feeling homesick, Wilford decided that he needed to stay busy by focusing more on his studies. He grew to love history and started reading every history book he could get his hands on.
One day Wilford picked up the Bible and started to read it. Although he began reading it to learn about Christian history, he gained a testimony that the Bible was the word of God.
Wilford: I resolve to diligently seek the Lord, follow the Holy Spirit, and do the will of God as far as I can learn it!

Thanks for helping me study for that science test. I passed, thanks to you.
No problem!
Umm … how come you’ve been so nice to me after some of us were so mean when you first got here?
Well, after you failed that first science test you looked like you needed some help.
And we had a lesson in our family home evening about being kind to others.
What’s family home evening?
Family home evening is where we get together and have lessons, and games, and treats.
My family doesn’t do anything like that.
Hey! Does your family want to come to our home evening next Monday night?
Sounds fun. I’ll ask my mom.
Mom, can I be in charge of family home evening on Monday? I invited Audrey. I hope that’s OK.
… I’ll make brownies and …
To be continued …

To get to the Monares family’s one-room home in the city of Cebu, you have to walk through a maze of narrow, crowded alleys. When you enter the tiny room, the first thing you see is a New Era poster. It’s a photo of one yellow balloon floating above a group of blue ones, with a caption: “Rise above the blues.”

One shelf of a small bookcase is filled with new copies of the Book of Mormon to give away. “Our son is on a mission,” Santos Monares explains.

Brother Monares buys and sells merchandise on the street, hoping to transact enough business to feed his family. When he and his wife, Julieta, first started talking about going to the temple, Julieta didn’t want to build up her hopes. She felt it was useless to even try to save enough money for the boat trip. And then Brother Monares was sick for a long time. But somehow, they got enough money together for themselves and four of their children to make the trip.

When Sister Monares went to the market to buy food for the journey, someone pickpocketed all her food money. Again she was tempted to give up. But fast-offering funds helped pay for food, and they finally made it to the Manila Temple in April 1990.

“In the temple, we forgot all the problems of the outside world,” says Brother Monares.

Twenty-year-old Vicenta agrees. “When we were being sealed to my brother who died soon after he was born, I heard the voice of a baby!” For her, it was a witness that he was accepting the ordinance.

I had come to my office the other night a beautiful mother and seven children. I think I am far enough away, and probably no one would guess of whom I am speaking. She is a very talented young woman, but she said, “I have come to a time where I believe that I must think of divorcing my husband.” So I began to ask about her husband. In answer to my questions, she said he was kind to her. He was a good provider, but somehow the luster of the romance of marriage, now that their children were pretty well grown, had now brought her to a point where she had begun to think that maybe if she were footloose she could do better than she was able to do with the husband who was the father of her children. We had quite a talk about it; but the other morning, after the first session of the conference, this lovely young woman met me and she said, with tears rolling down her cheeks, “I have had the answer to every problem. This session has changed my life. I am a woman different now, because I have understanding that I never had before. I am going back. I am going to take care of my family. I am going to love my husband, and I am going to correct the mistakes that are in me, where I think most of the problem lies.”

They first met the Prophet as he was chopping wood with his brothers-in-law in the forest behind Newell K. Whitney’s store, where Joseph and Emma were then living. To find a prophet thus employed assured much more than it surprised a hardworking man like Brigham. The visitors were invited to stay for supper and for a gathering of some of the brethren that evening. Heber much later remembered that they “had a glorious time; during which brother Brigham spoke in tongues before brother Joseph, it being the first time he had heard any one speak in tongues. We had a precious season and returned with a blessing in our souls.”4 Brigham himself recalled, “We tarried about one week in Kirtland, held meetings nearly every night, and the blessings of the Lord were extensively upon us. I baptized one man while in Kirtland, by the name of Gibson Smith, the father of Newell K. Whitney’s wife, who had just come from Connecticut to learn the things that were being revealed. Being convinced of the truth of the work, he requested me to go into the waters with him.”5

I was drifting off to sleep the night before a trip when I received an impression to buy a rim and a tire for our 15-year-old minivan, which came without a spare. The next day I was busy and forgot about the impression. We loaded the vehicle with our three children and gear and headed to my dad’s house four hours away.
On the way, a tire on the van blew. We had the van towed to the nearest town to replace the tire. It cost three times what it would have to buy a rim and tire at home, and we lost 90 minutes waiting. I gained an appreciation for the promptings of the Spirit and decided to better follow them in the future.

Our Heavenly Father is infinitely kind. When we keep his commandments, he “doth immediately bless” us (Mosiah 2:24). As we remember his kindnesses, we are again blessed, and our confidence in him grows stronger. Another sister, assigned to help the young women in her ward prepare for a sacrament meeting program, felt a spirit of peace, even though their final practice had concluded in confusion. She reflected, “We had practiced diligently. We had been called by God through his servants to this assignment. I had seen his blessings in similar situations in the past, and I knew that we could trust in him. We felt his Spirit during the program.”

Another of you wrote, “I love being a mother. I love teaching my children the gospel. I substituted in Relief Society one week and got to give the lesson on family scripture study. This is something close to my heart, something I can’t imagine family life without. After the lesson, a sister came up to me and said, ‘I can’t believe all you do. I don’t have the patience.’ But she sings and takes music lessons. At times I’ve envied people who could sing well or play an instrument, because I love music.
“After my conversation with her I felt that although I had not been blessed with great musical ability, Heavenly Father had blessed me with a love of motherhood and that this indeed was a gift and a talent for which I am grateful.”