Gospel Story Finder

Photographs of the ward courtesy of Nolfo Zambrano
If someone offered you a piece of delicious banana bread, how would you react? For the young men in a ward in Ecuador, that’s one way they start conversations about the gospel.
Every two months they have a missionary day with open houses in a different area of their ward. They split into several teams, each made up of a young man, a full-time or recently returned missionary, and an elder or high priest. Some of the groups work at a tent, some go to contact people in the park, and some go door to door.
When they meet someone, they offer the person a piece of banana bread. When the person accepts, he or she is told that although the bread is delicious and good for the body, the missionaries have a message that will be nourishing to the person’s soul. The young men and their companions then invite the person to meet with the missionaries. In this way, they’ve been able to get 40 to 50 referrals for the missionaries in a couple of hours.
The young men also fellowship the members of their own quorums. On Saturdays they meet for a Young Men activity and to work on Duty to God. Then they visit the less-active members of their quorum. They encourage them to attend church and then invite them to come back to play sports or participate in another activity.
In this way and many others, these young men are preparing to be lifelong missionaries. Two of them (at right) share how they feel strengthened and inspired by their experiences.
I have been a member of the Church for five years. My parents are not members, but my uncle Jorge is the Young Men president, and he has been a great support. I am also grateful to my bishop for his constant support and encouragement.
I decided to get closer to the Church after one of the missionary days they had in the ward. It was one of my first experiences that motivated me to join the Church. As a deacon, teacher, and now a priest, my leaders have always supported and encouraged me to participate in all of the missionary work activities. I like the open houses, where I have the opportunity to share with others the blessing of being a member of Christ’s Church. What inspires me most are the service activities, where I have the opportunity to serve my neighbor as Jesus taught us to do.
A year ago, my younger brothers, Luis, age 15, and Israel, age 12, joined the Church. Together we have been working on the projects in Duty to God, and since their baptisms we have shared wonderful experiences working together. All of the young men in the ward are very close, and we support each other.
I know that baptism is the gate to enter the kingdom of heaven. When we are in the service of our fellow beings, we are in the service of God (see Mosiah 2:17). Missionary work blesses families, and I know that my life has changed because of the gospel.
Alvaro T., 17
As a deacon I learned my responsibilities thanks to the support of my parents and leaders and working with the goals in the Duty to God booklet. As a teacher I learned more by going to do visits as a home teacher, participating in the open houses on the missionary days, sharing banana bread, attending Mutual, and participating in ward and stake activities.
Now as a priest I get to focus more on missionary work. Working with the Young Men president and as an assistant to the bishop, I have learned much more about my responsibilities as a priesthood holder.
Our leaders constantly invite us to come with them and the full-time missionaries so that we can become familiar with missionary work. They also exhort us to read the scriptures, especially the Book of Mormon. All of these experiences motivate and prepare me to receive the higher priesthood and to serve a full-time mission.
Isaac G., 17

At about that same time, I was invited to a lunch for all of the Relief Society sisters in my ward who had read either the Book of Mormon or a short Church history book. I had become casual in my scripture reading, so I qualified to attend the luncheon by reading the short book because it was easier and took less time. As I was eating my lunch, I had a powerful feeling that though the history book was a good one, I should have read the Book of Mormon. The Holy Ghost was prompting me to change my scripture reading habits. That very day I began to read the Book of Mormon, and I have never stopped reading it. Though I do not consider myself to be an expert, I truly love reading all the scriptures, and I am grateful I started the lifetime habit of reading them. It would be impossible to learn the lessons the scriptures contain by reading them only one time through or studying selected verses in a class.

I consider June 2, 1940, to be a very important day in the history of my family. On this day my father was baptized into this Church.
Writing to his father, Elder Jack McDonald, one of the missionaries who baptized my father, described the day with these words:
“Last Sunday was an especially beautiful day. We missionaries went out to a secluded spot on the river’s edge, out in the country, and there Elder Jones and I [Elder McDonald] made our first baptism. Antony Aidukaitis entered into the icy waters and became a member of the Church. … Everything was perfect. The sky so blue, the countryside so still, so green, so lovely that none of us could help feeling the presence of some great influence.
“[As we walked] with our new member, he said that he just couldn’t explain how wonderful this day had been for him, how he actually felt like a new man. … That was our first baptism—no credit to me or anybody. He converted himself.”
This event changed the history of my life. I am not sure my father was able to foresee the wisdom of his act, but I love him for what he did that day. He passed away more than 30 years ago, but I will honor and bless his name forever.
My father was the son of Lithuanians, but he was born in Scotland. He moved to Brazil when he was still young. His ability to speak English facilitated his conversion since he could read the Book of Mormon in English, and there was not yet a reliable translation into Portuguese. This language barrier prevented my mother from joining the Church until a few years later, but when she did, she became a powerful example of dedication to others and love of God in our family. She is now 92 years old, and she is here today. It gives me great joy to say that I love her for her great faithfulness. I will also honor and bless her name forever.
I admire the courage my father had to be baptized into the Church in spite of the circumstances he faced at the time. It was not easy for him. His wife did not get baptized with him. The vices of drinking alcohol and smoking were strong temptations for him. He was poor. His mother was against his joining the Church, and she told him that if he were baptized, she would no longer consider him her son. With fewer than 300 members in Brazil, the Church did not have a single chapel there. I am truly astonished by my father’s determination and courage.
How could he make such a decision in the face of so many unfavorable circumstances? The answer is simple: it was because my father read the Book of Mormon. When he read it, he came to know of the truthfulness of the message of the Restoration. The Book of Mormon is a proof that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is true. Preach My Gospel teaches that “the Book of Mormon, combined with the Spirit, is [the] most powerful resource in conversion” ([2004], 104).

Let me answer from my own experience. In 1963 I was called to preside over the Scottish Mission. When I arrived, I made a tour of all the branches and could see that the members, many of whom were new converts, were still learning the patterns of the gospel and why we do things the way we do. I realized that what these branches needed was the example of members who were well seasoned in Church experience—priesthood and Relief Society knowledge and operating procedures. I thought of the vast numbers of healthy retired people sitting in rocking chairs on sunny patios when they still had many years of productivity in them. I could visualize how successful we could be in Scotland if we had some of those experienced retired couples in some of our branches. What a help they would be!

So I wrote to some of our retired friends in California, encouraging them to come on a mission and suggesting that they indicate on their missionary applications that they would enjoy serving in Scotland. Seven couples responded to my encouragement.

In addition, as a mission president I submitted my request to the Missionary Department for couple missionaries. Since assignments for missionary service are made by inspiration through the Brethren, there was no guarantee that these couples from California would be able to serve with me. However, to our mutual joy, these seven couples were assigned to the Scottish Mission, and we put them to work in these branches. Their influence was just as successful as I had hoped it would be. What a wonderful resource they were!

Dressed in their homemade, bright yellow, tie-dyed shirts, the young women of the Concord Second Ward in Walnut Creek, California, raised their flag of virtue after hiking to the top of nearby Mount Diablo.
Following an inspiring fireside focused on the importance of virtue, each young woman took a strip of yellow fabric and wrote her pledge of virtue on it. Then they tied all the strips of fabric to a discarded tree branch. The next morning, the young women carried their banner on a hike around the summit of Mount Diablo, hoisting it high as a standard to the world at a point overlooking their homes in the valley below. The young women linked arms, symbolizing their unity in following the standards of the gospel and in their love for each other and for the Savior.
Beehive Morgan March said, “As we stood together as a group of Young Women, it made me feel grateful for all of the girls who had the same values as me. As we go through hard times we always know that there are people with our same standards.”

Feleti likes to have fun, but he is a hard worker too. He sometimes goes to the plantation with his dad and big cousins. They dig up ‘ufi (yams) and pick enough coconuts on the weekend to last them through the next week. For New Year’s Day they dig a lot of ‘ufi for a big feast that their family prepares each year for their neighbors and family members. Feleti’s family and friends feast on roast pig, ‘ufi, fish, and bread.

Amelia never expected things to be free or to come easily. She knew that most important things had a price, and she always felt that if she truly wanted something, the price was worth it. When she first wanted to take flying lessons, she was living in California. Her father told her that the thousand-dollar lessons were too expensive. Instead of being discouraged, Amelia found a job at the telephone company and worked long hours to pay for the lessons.
Amelia did as much flying as she could in those early days of aviation, and in 1928 she was invited to become the first woman to cross the Atlantic Ocean in an airplane. She was only a passenger then, but in 1932 she decided to cross the Atlantic again—this time as the first woman pilot to fly across it!
On the evening of Friday, May 20, 1932, she took off from Harbour Grace, Newfoundland. Early in the flight the altimeter, which measures the distance an airplane is above the ground or water, stopped working. It was a very dark night, and clouds blocked out the light of the moon. A lightning storm arose. Visability was poor, and Amelia couldn’t see how high above the water she was. She decided to try flying above the clouds where she would have moonlight and be safely away from the storm and the ocean. However, as she climbed through the cloud layer, ice formed on the plane’s wings. The extra weight caused the plane to go into a spinning dive. As the plane came closer to the surface of the water, the ice melted from the wings and Amelia was able to pull the plane out of the spin. But she had been close enough to the ocean to see the whitecaps on the waves.
Later during the same flight Amelia noticed flames trailing from a broken weld in the manifold of her engine. If the flames caused the manifold to weaken and break apart, the airplane might crash. Amelia could have turned back to Harbour Grace, but “there was nothing to do about it … ,” she said. “So it seemed sensible to keep going.” Although the flames never ceased and the manifold rattled steadily, Amelia made it to Ireland. She landed there in a pasture rather than continuing on to Paris as she had planned.
In her lifetime Amelia broke several long-distance flying records. She believed that one day everyone would fly from one part of the world to another and that nations and peoples would therefore come to understand each other better. She knew this could only happen if difficult exploratory flights were made first in order to learn important information about piloting, flying conditions, and airplane design and safety. “Every flight … is potentially important,” she said. “It may yield valuable knowledge. We can look at all flights across the Atlantic and see that each, in its way, has done some definite good.”
When she wasn’t flying, Amelia kept busy by lecturing, writing, counseling at a university, and helping to start a number of commercial airline services. In 1931 she married George P. Putnam, a book publisher.
In spite of her time-consuming activities, Amelia still felt that she needed to make one more long-distance flight. She told her husband that it would be her last long flight.
On January 11, 1937, Amelia started her flight by flying west from Oakland, California, to Hawaii. Then she had an accident while trying to take off in Honolulu, and she was delayed several weeks until major repairs were completed on her Lockheed Electra airplane. During this time it was decided that Amelia should fly around the world going east instead of west.
It was May 1937 when she finally took off from Oakland again. Amelia said she was just making a test flight. On board with her were Fred Noonan, her navigator; Bo McKneeley, her mechanic; and her husband. Things went so well, however, that they continued on to Miami, where on June 1 Amelia and Fred Noonan took off to finish the eastward flight around the world. A month later, on July 2, 1937, Amelia Earhart’s plane was lost while she was trying to locate Howland Island in the South Pacific Ocean. She had completed more than two-thirds of her around-the-world flight. Neither she, Fred Noonan, nor the airplane were ever found.
Amelia deserved the tribute that newspaper columnist Walter Lippmann had previously written about her: “The world is a better place to live in because it contains human beings who will give up ease and security, and stake their own lives in order to do what they themselves think worth doing.”

Harold Connolly had broken his left arm several times. It was only two-thirds the size of his right arm. To exercise and build up the smaller arm, he began throwing the hammer back to Boston College’s regular throwers. Soon he was tossing it back farther than they were throwing it, so he entered the event. He later broke the world record and won a gold medal. He made himself the strongest where he was the weakest.

Milton Soares Jr. and his wife, Irene, are gracious hosts for visitors to the house they built in Recife. They have spent much of their lives in building—building a family and building up the Church, which began here with them.
They still have the first LDS pamphlet they received, the story of Joseph Smith, with a hand-drawn missionary diagram on the inside showing a church built on the foundation of Apostles. Another well-used Church book bears a message that the missionaries who taught Milton inscribed to him as the first person baptized in Recife in this dispensation. The date was 15 May 1960. His wife and children of baptismal age followed him into the Church three weeks later.
Irene Soares was skeptical when her husband first began investigating the gospel, but knowing him to be a good man, she thought that if he could accept it, it must be right. She received her own strong witness of the truth when President Joseph Fielding Smith of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles visited Recife with Elder A. Theodore Tuttle of the Seventy. “I felt in my heart the knowledge that all we had been learning was true and that [President Smith] was a prophet,” she recalls.
In the beginning, when both of their families questioned why they would join this unknown church, Milton and Irene had only their faith to cling to. His family’s feelings toward the Church softened over time. The feelings of her parents and siblings did not, but she could not give up the truths she had found.
Irene laughs when she remembers that “after just one week in the Church, I was considered an old-time member.” She felt a responsibility to meet and fellowship everyone. Her first sacrifice for the Church was to make cloths for the sacrament table. When their small branch moved to a different meetinghouse, Milton built the baptismal font and Irene found herself rounding up baptismal clothes.
Like many other Brazilians who joined the Church when it was just getting started in their area, they planted the seeds of gospel growth for their family. And as in many other Brazilian families, their example has borne fruit in succeeding generations. Their eldest son, Irajá, is just one example. After his baptism as a teenager, he quickly learned to enjoy working with the missionaries. In 1966 he became the first Brazilian elder called on a full-time foreign mission (he served in Chile). Today he serves as an Area Authority Seventy.

My family’s story does not end with my brothers’ deaths. The doctor who tried so desperately to save Steven’s life had been separated from his own sons through a terrible divorce. When he told my mother that Steven had died, my mother told him, “The Lord will allow us to see him again. I am so grateful that we have an eternal family so we can all be together again.”
The doctor was so impressed by my mother’s faith that he investigated the Church and was baptized and later sealed in the temple to his new wife.

“I have a secret, Lisa,” Katie said after she finished her milk. She put her glass on the kitchen table and swung her legs.
“What is it?” Her sister stopped eating her cereal.
“It’s something that you can see,” Katie said, swinging her legs faster.
Lisa looked all around. “I don’t see a secret. What is it?”
Katie shook her head. She slid off her chair and hopped around the table. “Dad, I have a secret.”
Dad looked up from feeding the baby and smiled at Katie. “Give me a clue.”
“It’s something that you can see.”
Dad looked really hard at Katie. He wrinkled his brow. “You grew ten inches?”
Katie laughed.
“No. Look again.”
“I can’t see your secret,” said Dad. “You’ll have to tell me.”
Katie shook her head. She ran around the table to her mother. Mother put her arm around Katie and kissed her. “I have a secret,” said Katie, bouncing up and down on her toes.
“That white mustache?” Mother asked, dabbing Katie’s mouth with a napkin.
“No. Something else. Something that you can see.” Katie looked down at the floor.
“We will have to guess later, Katie,” said Mother. “Now, let me tie your shoes so that you can go to preschool.”
“No thank you,” said Katie.
“Do you want me to tie your shoes?” asked Lisa.
“No thank you,” answered Katie.
“Shall I tie them?” asked Dad.
“No thank you, Dad.” Katie giggled.
“Someone will have to tie them, Katie. You can’t go with your shoes untied,” Mother said.
Katie jumped up and down, then held up one foot so that everyone could see her shoe. “That’s my secret. I tied them all by myself!”

As the usual family festivities of Christmas Eve were drawing to an end, I felt that can’t-wait-until-morning feeling of excitement!
I was eight years of age and the oldest grandchild in my large extended family. Every few minutes, a parent, aunt, or uncle would open the door and exclaim about hearing the faint sound of bells. I could hardly wait for Santa to arrive. Yet Grandpa still insisted on going caroling first—a family tradition. “Santa will never come!” I thought.
As we hopped into our frost-covered cars, we realized it was a lot later than we normally left. The small town where we lived in Idaho was very quiet and cold. Some family members worried that we shouldn’t go caroling so late, but my grandpa insisted that we should visit a couple houses.
As we drove down the small, tree-covered lane, we could see no hint of light in the tiny log cabin belonging to “Old Jim.” Jim was a good friend, and he had a big heart. He had been a widower since I could remember.
“Surely Jim wouldn’t care if we didn’t stop,” I moaned. Santa Claus would miss us for sure!
But my good grandfather persisted: “Just quietly gather by the bedroom window and start with ‘O Little Town of Bethlehem.’”
Our voices were unsteady at first, but strength lies in numbers, and it wasn’t long until the music swelled into a beautiful, harmonious melody.
Yet in thy dark streets shineth
The everlasting Light.
The hopes and fears of all the years
Are met in thee tonight.
There was still no light on in Jim’s home, but we continued to sing.
O morning stars, together
Proclaim the holy birth,
And praises sing to God the King,
And peace to men on earth.1
The cabin door opened.
In the moonlight, we could see tears run down Jim’s face. As he embraced us all, he cried—really cried. After a time, he wiped the tears of joy from his face and said to us, “I have waited all year for you to come. You are my Christmas. And when the clock turned 9:30, I thought I had been forgotten. I was so disappointed. I had gone to bed, for there was no reason to stay up anymore.”
Our hearts were filled. As Jim motioned us into his home and turned on the light, we could see that he indeed had been expecting us. His kitchen table was beautifully set, and there was everything from Christmas cake and cookies to cold meats cut and laid out waiting for us to eat. The cups had been carefully counted and lovingly filled with sweet apple cider, so as “not to miss a one of you,” Jim added.
Jim said we had been his Christmas? Not so. Jim had been ours.
The gift of love we received that cold Christmas Eve was more wonderful than anything Santa could ever have left under our Christmas tree. And it was a reminder that the Lord wants us to minister to His children as He does—one by one, bringing His love with us (see 3 Nephi 11:15–17; 17:21).
The author lives in Utah.

A few years ago, we decided to bottle peaches for our grandpa for Christmas. We knew that he liked simple gifts and loved peaches. Mom helped us boil the peaches, peel them, and put them in jars. It was so much fun to bottle the peaches and learn something new. On Christmas, we went to our grandpa’s house and were excited to carry in the big box of peaches. He was so happy when he unwrapped the box and saw all of the peaches inside. He told us how proud he was of us for learning how to bottle peaches. Now we give him Christmas peaches every year.

Many years ago I had an experience with personal revelation that would forever change my life. I had recently graduated from college and was working for a good company. Everything seemed to be going well for me, but I had the unsettled feeling that something was missing. And I had many questions for which I could not find answers. I never thought that an invitation from my friend Imable to “meet the Mormons” would lead me to find answers to my questions—indeed, that it would have transcendent consequences for my life.
When Imable and I arrived at the meeting that Sunday in August 1974, the Church members—particularly the youth—greeted us with enthusiasm, as if we were old friends. We listened to a speaker who had great faith in what he was saying. When he finished I was surprised at the warm feeling I experienced.
Two days later I found myself in the home of one of the members, listening to the missionaries teach the gospel. Unfortunately my family would not allow the missionaries into our home because of our strong religious traditions and because they were afraid. I could understand their feelings; nevertheless, I needed to know the truth for myself, no matter what the consequences. And so I studied it out in my mind (see D&C 9:8) and prayed to God for wisdom and knowledge.
One day, as the missionaries taught me about the First Vision, the Holy Spirit testified powerfully to me that the Prophet Joseph Smith had indeed seen the Father and the Son. I said to Elder Dennis Lamb, “It is true! I know it is true!”
That night I followed the missionaries’ counsel to pour out my heart to God and ask Him if the Book of Mormon was also true. Again I experienced that peaceful and joyful feeling I had felt earlier. I was grateful for the new life the Lord was offering me through the missionaries. My mind and heart were illuminated “by the Spirit of truth” (D&C 6:15), and I knew the sweet reality of a divine Father, who loves us and extends His arms to us through His servants.
The blessings soon followed. Two months after my baptism, I baptized my youngest sister and brother. And a year later I began my service as a full-time missionary in southern Chile. My mother was baptized while I was in the field, and I was able to baptize my father when I returned home. My two sisters and my brother also served honorable missions. Months after I returned from my mission, I met my sweet wife, Adriana, and we were sealed in the temple. We were blessed with three children born in the covenant. All of this is because I listened to the quiet promptings that testified to me of the Prophet Joseph Smith and the restored Church. How grateful I am for the gift of personal revelation!

Not long ago I read about an incident that occurred in the life of U.S. President Harry S. Truman after he had retired and was back in Independence, Missouri. He was at Truman Library, talking with some elementary school students and answering their questions. Finally, a question came from an owlish little boy. “Mr. President,” he said, “was you popular when you was a boy?” The President looked at the boy and answered, “Why, no. I was never popular. The popular boys were the ones who were good at games and had big, tight fists. I was never like that. Without my glasses I was blind as a bat, and to tell the truth, I was kind of a sissy.” The little boy started to applaud, and then everyone else did, too (Vital Speeches, Feb. 1983, p. 6).

“CQ … CQ (calling any station) … This is N7NGT, November seven November golf tango. Calling CQ from the state of Wyoming and standing by.”
The static of the radio fills the silence. Then the 16-year-old, red-haired girl, call sign N7NGT, leans over the microphone, presses the button, and repeats her call to the world on her father’s ham radio.
For a moment she wonders, Is anyone out there listening?
Does anyone want to talk to Shauna Richards in Rock Springs, Wyoming?
A moment later a voice answers Shauna’s call. In fact, in a little over an hour Shauna talks to people in Australia, New Zealand, Japan—all over. These people all have amateur radio licenses. They also have their own lingo, called Q signals. Shauna enjoys talking to strangers, who quickly become friends, about what their lives are like and what they like best about their hometowns. And in emergencies, they use their radios to relay messages out of the emergency area to comfort worried relatives and friends when other methods of communication fail. Ham radio is a good hobby for someone who likes to talk. And Shauna likes to talk.

During May, I had the opportunity to run in the Utah High School State Track Championships. I ran in three events, and it was a great experience. But my state track experience did not compare to the experience I had the day before the meet.
For a few months, my ward had been planning to go to the Manti Utah Temple to perform baptisms for the dead. I was so excited to go, but then I found out it was the day before the state track meet. I wasn’t sure what I should do. I had been working all season to prepare for my events, and I thought I needed as much rest as possible before I ran. We’d definitely get home from the temple late, and I needed to be in bed earlier than that.
I asked myself, “What is more important: getting rested for state track or serving at the temple?” I knew where the Lord wanted me to be and where I wanted to be, so I was determined to be there.
At the temple, I felt the Spirit of the Lord, and it brought me great peace. I didn’t even think about running the whole time I was there. I knew I was in the right place, helping others who had gone before me. The feeling was wonderful!
The next day, my nerves were calm, and I ran the best I ever had. I knew I was blessed because of my faith in choosing to go to the temple. I have a testimony of the temple, and I know the value of the work that goes on there. This experience is one that I will treasure in my heart forever.

Probably all of us have experienced when we really needed someone to help us. I remember once as a small boy I surely did. While playing on a mountainside near our home, I fell into the middle of a huge, prickly cactus plant. It really hurt! The prickly spines of the cactus went through my canvas shoes, through my stockings, through my trousers, through my shirt—they went through everything! I felt like a human dart board.
Immediately I let out a cry that was loud enough to shake the mountains. I couldn’t move up, down, in, or out. Every movement I made seemed to send those needles deeper and deeper into my skin. I just stayed there and howled.
I was five years old at the time and my older brother, who immediately rushed to my rescue, was eight. He was overwhelmed at the sight of me and the complexity of my plight. Nevertheless, he began to pull out some of the spines, but they seemed to hurt more coming out than going in and I howled even louder. Furthermore, the pin-sized wounds bled so much when the spines were removed that after a few minutes I looked like an advertisement for Red Cross blood donations.
Finally my brother saw that his feeble plucking was hopeless. There were dozens of spines yet to pull, and I was still screaming as loud as I could. He did the only thing an eight-year-old brother could do. He ran down the mountain, got his small red wagon, and labored painfully to get it up the side of the hill to where I was awaiting death—I thought. With some tugging and hauling and lifting—and plenty of noise from me—he got me out of the cactus and into the wagon. Then in some miraculous way, known only to children and Providence, he brought me down off that steep mountain in his wagon.
The rest of the story is blurred in my memory. As I recall, my mother got me out of my clothes and the rest of the prickly spines out of me. What I do remember clearly and will never forget is the sight of my brother tugging that wagon and determinedly making his way toward me. He was so concerned that he worked wonderfully hard to get to me. If I live to be one hundred, I suppose no memory of my brother will be more vivid than the view I had of him that day. I needed him desperately. And there he was, coming to help!

Ludovic picked up some folding chairs and carried them across the street. It was Sunday, and church would be starting soon. The house where they had church in Togo didn’t have enough seats. So Ludovic always brought chairs from his grandfather’s house.
“Why would you leave a nice church to go to a small shack?” someone called after him. “Your church doesn’t even have benches!” someone else said, laughing.
Ludovic pretended not to hear. I just have to keep doing what’s right, he thought.
Ludovic first learned about the Church when he was 10. Now he was 12. He and his family had been baptized recently. He held the priesthood and helped pass the sacrament. He even saved some of his lunch money to buy bread for the sacrament each week. Ludovic was happy to serve Heavenly Father.
When it was time for church to start, the small room was full. Some people sat in the chairs Ludovic had brought. Other people stood.
The meeting started with a song. “Israel, Israel, God is calling,” Ludovic sang. He loved to sing at church.
After church, Ludovic hummed as he put the chairs away. He hummed as he walked home. Then he had an idea! He got out his toy piano keyboard. Maybe he could figure out how to play “Israel, Israel, God Is Calling”!
Ludovic hummed the notes and played different keys until he got it right. Soon he taught himself to play the whole song.
Then he remembered that his family had some recordings of Church hymns. He listened to them and learned to play other songs too. Ludovic practiced and practiced.
“Why don’t you play in church while we sing?” Ludovic’s dad asked one day.
Ludovic’s stomach did a flop. “I’m too shy,” he said. “What if I mess up?”
“Then you will keep going,” Dad said. “You are a better pianist than you think.”
The next Sunday, Ludovic didn’t carry just chairs. He carried his toy keyboard to church too. When it was time for the opening song, he nervously put his fingers on the keys. Then he started to play. Everyone sang along. And it sounded so good!
Ludovic played in church each Sunday after that. Sometimes he messed up. But he didn’t quit. When the song was too hard to play, they sang without the piano, and Ludovic led the music.
Ludovic smiled. It didn’t matter to him that they had church at someone’s house. It didn’t even matter that people made fun of him. What mattered was that Ludovic was using his talents to serve God.
A missionary taught Ludovic to read music so he could play the piano better.
Ludovic is grown up now. He and his wife, Benedict, both love music.
Ludovic owns a real piano at home and plays the organ at church.

I grew up playing rugby in Ireland, and I was able to play it professionally around the world as a young adult. While I was visiting England to play rugby, I met the missionaries and was baptized. I later served a mission and then moved to Australia, where I met my wife and became a father.
When I converted to the gospel of Jesus Christ, my entire lifestyle changed in just a short time! I suddenly had a wife, a home in a different country, and a son. I didn’t grow up with a traditional family, so this was all new to me. Living the gospel brought me blessings that I never had access to before, and I was so grateful for them.
But even though I was blessed in so many areas of my life, I still felt overwhelmed.
From the outside, life was good, but I realized there were some difficulties amid the blessings. When my wife and I argued, I struggled to share my feelings. I hadn’t learned how to express them effectively. And because I grew up with a single mother, I felt somewhat lost when it came to a marriage relationship.
Circumstances changed, and I could no longer play rugby. I felt like I was not a good dad, a good husband, or a good provider. And I wanted to provide for my family so badly! I just didn’t know where to turn.
My experience of being overwhelmed progressively got worse. I began to lose hope that things would get better, and I grew more depressed. Over time, thoughts of suicide emerged. Because my suicidal thoughts and depression were left untreated, I chose to make a suicide attempt.
By a miraculous event, I survived my attempt. I realized how bad my mental health had become, and I started meeting with a counselor. This counselor helped me have a healthier perspective and learn to recognize and share how I was really feeling.
With a new focus on hope, and with professional help for my mental health, I was determined to start healing. I started to understand that even though I’m imperfect, with Heavenly Father’s help, I could keep my marriage strong, be a good dad, and provide for my family.
My ward was also supportive of me as I served in the bishopric. Being able to serve others brought another sense of purpose back into my life.
Another miraculous blessing that helped me see the light was studying my patriarchal blessing. The words reminded me of the promises Heavenly Father has made to me and helped me realize that I could provide for my family if I put the Lord first.
I’ve started praying more sincerely to invite the light of the gospel into my life. I read my scriptures every day. I always try to invite the Spirit so I can have positive thoughts and improve my relationship with my wife and son.
Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles taught:
“From time to time our lives may seem to be touched by, or even wrapped in, darkness. …
“… I bear witness that our living hope is in Christ Jesus! He is the true, pure, and powerful entrance to divine enlightenment.
“I testify that with Christ, darkness cannot succeed.”
Now I talk to Heavenly Father every day. When I have a hard time, I get on my knees and let Him know that I am still trying my best. I now understand that no matter how overwhelmed I may get, I can always turn to my Savior for help.
I am never really alone. I truly am a child of God.
And so are you.
The scriptures teach us that the worth of souls is great in the eyes of God (see Doctrine and Covenants 18:10). And Heavenly Father loves each of His children so much and is aware of our struggles. Even when life is challenging, we can always have faith that He will lead us to the right people and the right resources.
I echo what President Jeffrey R. Holland, Acting President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, taught: “Whatever your concerns or difficulties, death by suicide is manifestly not the answer. … In a world that so desperately needs all the light it can get, please do not minimize the eternal light God put in your soul before this world was. Talk to someone. Ask for help. … You can bear the struggles of this mortal life because we will help you bear them. You are stronger than you think. Help is available, from others and especially from God. You are loved and valued and needed. We need you!”
At first, I didn’t realize I was struggling with my mental health, until it became so debilitating I could hardly function. Learning to talk about my feelings and focusing on my Savior and His healing power has helped me feel peace and hope in my life again.
I know focusing on Him will help you find healing too.