Gospel Story Finder

Luke’s feet pounded the ground. He looked over his shoulder. His brother, Robert, was catching up with him!
“Tag! You’re it!” Robert said.
Luke giggled. He chased after his older sister, Mili.
After the game, everyone sat down to rest.
“What can we play now?” Mili asked.
Luke was glad he had siblings to play with. But COVID-19 had changed a lot of things. They couldn’t go to places with lots of people. And sometimes they weren’t even allowed to be outside.
Luke tried to think of a game they could play. Then he thought of something he had heard in Primary.
“I think we should do something to be prepared,” Luke said.
“What do you mean?” Mili asked.
Luke looked at the guava trees around their house. “The prophet said we should never stop preparing. Maybe we can collect firewood today. We can make it a game to see who can get the most!”
Luke and his siblings raced to the trees near their house. Luke piled sticks in his arms and ran back to stack his wood in the shed. When his siblings got there, he helped them stack up their wood too. They ran back and forth until they’d collected a huge pile.
“This is enough to cook with for a whole week!” Mili said.
“That was fun,” Robert said. “I like being prepared!”
“Me too,” Luke said. He wanted to do something else to be prepared.
Next he and his brother and sister planted bele (a green vegetable) in their garden. Luke cut the stems from old plants so they could plant them and grow more.
While they worked, their grandparents and parents came outside.
“Did you plant bele on your own?” Grandpa asked.
“Yes,” Luke said. “And we got firewood too!”
“Thank you,” said Dad. “I was really busy today. I wouldn’t have been able to do it.”
That afternoon, Luke sat inside with his family. They heard an announcement on the radio that everyone would have to stay inside for four days to stop COVID-19 from spreading. Nobody was allowed to leave their home.
“It’s good we collected firewood today. We wouldn’t be able to now,” said Mili.
Luke smiled. He was happy they had followed the prophet’s invitation to be prepared.
This story took place in Fiji.

Besides being a cast member, Julie Ashton (10) was a pageant guide. Each night before the show began, some cast members, dressed in their costumes, welcomed people to the pageant and handed out programs. She even learned a few greetings in Spanish and was able to visit with Spanish-speaking members of the audience.
One of the scenes Julie especially liked was the one in which Jesus Christ teaches the multitude and performs miracles like raising the sick and the dead. “I loved the song they played, and I loved seeing Jesus smile. It gave me a good feeling inside.”
Her very favorite part of the pageant was the finale. All the cast members went on stage or out on the grass and sang “I Know He Lives!” while Matt Hale, as the Savior, was lifted by wires 40? (12.2 m) above the ground. “I liked that best,” Julie said, “because you were bearing your testimony to the audience. It let them know that you know that He lives. I know He lives because I’ve prayed about it and got a really special feeling in my heart. I know it’s true.”

It was the kind of hot summer Saturday that makes you want to drop everything and head to the beach. My buddies and I, about to begin our last year of high school, decided to do just that. We packed ourselves into an old, blue pickup, cracked the windows and cranked the radio, and began the two-hour drive to the California coast.
As we neared our destination, I asked my friend to pull over at a sporting goods shop so I could buy a swimsuit. The woman at the register scanned the price tag of the suit I had picked out as I reached for my credit card. I didn’t even have to look at my wallet to find it; my fingers, from habit, knew exactly where to go. I handed it over and the woman swiped it.
“It says, ‘Insufficient funds’,” she told me, tapping a finger on the countertop. “Got any cash?”
Surprised and embarrassed, I mumbled a “hold on a minute” and went back out to the car. “Hey, something’s wrong with my card. Can someone spot me twenty?” One of my friends did, I went inside and paid, and we continued on our way.
Everyone else had a good time at the beach that afternoon, but for me the trip was spoiled. How had I maxed out a couple-thousand-dollar line of credit? I had a part-time job, but I didn’t make nearly enough to be racking up that kind of a bill. I couldn’t think of any major purchases I had made recently. How had this happened?
Like a lot of teens, I got my first job when I was 16. The paycheck I earned from cleaning tennis courts was nothing to brag about, but I was excited to have some personal income. Because my parents covered a lot of my expenses (they bought a used car for me and my brother to share, and even paid for gas and insurance), the money from my job left over after tithing became spending money. I would spend hours after school at music stores, picking out albums by my favorite bands. An avid reader, I loved going to bookstores and would rarely leave one without a stack of novels tucked under my arm. I bought clothes and DVDs, concert tickets and guitar accessories. I loved to eat out with friends, sometimes almost every day of the week. Having money to do these things made me feel more mature and independent.
When I first started my job, my parents helped me open checking and savings accounts. I signed up for a credit card also. Though I didn’t plan to use it regularly, my parents and I thought it would be helpful to have in case of an emergency. It was more convenient to carry around a couple of cards in my wallet instead of cash and cumbersome spare change, so I switched to plastic. No more counting out bills and coins at check stands; all I had to do was key in a PIN number or show my ID and presto. I hardly had to think at all.
But not having to think much turned out not to be such a good thing. It was so easy to spend money that I began to spend more and more. Online shopping was getting popular at the time, and with a few clicks of the mouse on our home computer, I could have almost anything arrive at my door in two days. With digital music stores beginning to spring up on the Internet, buying music no longer required driving to the store or waiting for a package to arrive in the mail. All I had to do was click the “Purchase Now” button and I could be listening to a new album instantly.
Of course, there was nothing wrong with spending some of the money I earned on music or dinner with friends. But as my spending habits got worse, I began to spend money that I didn’t really even have. Several times I overdrew my checking account and had to pay a fine. My parents encouraged me to slow down my spending and work out a budget, but I didn’t take their advice seriously. Instead, if I didn’t have enough money in the bank, I began to charge purchases to my credit card and say to myself, “I’ll pay it off in a few days when my paycheck arrives. No big deal.”
It was a bigger deal than I thought. A few days turned into a few weeks, then a few weeks into months. It wasn’t long before I had empty checking and savings accounts, mounting debt, and a credit card bill that I couldn’t handle. I was stuck.
I wish I could say that was when I learned my lesson and turned things around—that I stopped overspending, paid my debts, and became wiser about handling finances. In fact, I was able to pay off my credit card debt, with plenty of help from my parents. For a while I was more responsible with my spending. But only for a while.
Having my parents bail me out, I later realized, gave me an unhealthy sense of security. Though I told myself that I needed to change my spending habits, I also felt that if I did mess up again, there would a safety net to rescue me, just as there had been the first time. And so I soon fell back into my old habits. I wasn’t making large purchases, but I never hesitated to shell out a few dollars here, a little more there—either with my checking card or with my credit card. It depressed me to know how much I spent, so I stopped checking my balances altogether. I got a raise and more hours at work and convinced myself that I was probably doing OK. After all, I wasn’t going out and spending hundreds of dollars at a time.
My experience that summer day at the sporting goods store was an unpleasant awakening. Those smaller purchases had added up, and I found myself in an even bigger mess than before.
A few years later, as I’m about to graduate from college, I think of Alma’s admonition to “learn wisdom in thy youth” (see Alma 37:35). Even though I’m on a better track now, I still wonder how much money I could have saved for a mission, college, or marriage had I learned financial wisdom when I was younger—and how many headaches I could have saved myself.
I finally figured out that buying lots of things and being overindulgent won’t make you happy, and that learning to live within your means makes all the difference. It has for me. I just wish I had figured that out sooner.

To those who faithfully and honestly live the law of tithing, the Lord promises an abundance of blessings. Some of these blessings are temporal, just as tithes are temporal. But like the outward physical ordinances of baptism and the sacrament, the commandment to pay tithing requires temporal sacrifice, which ultimately yields great spiritual blessings.
I know of a couple who lived thousands of miles from the nearest temple. Although they earned little, they faithfully paid their tithing and saved all that they could to journey to the house of the Lord. After a year, the husband’s brother—not a member of the Church—unexpectedly came forward and offered them two airplane tickets. This temporal blessing made possible the spiritual blessings of their temple endowments and sealing. An additional spiritual blessing came later as the brother, touched by the couple’s humble faithfulness, joined the Church.

When I was growing up, it was not uncommon for Mother to wake me in the middle of the night and say, “Sheri, take your pillow and go downstairs.” I knew what that meant. It meant a tornado was coming, and I was instantly afraid. But then Mother would say, “Sheri, everything will be OK.” Her words always calmed me. Today, decades later, when life seems overwhelming or frightening, I call Mother and wait for her to say, “Everything will be OK.”

Seth loved going to church. He enjoyed singing in Primary and learning about Jesus. Seth knew attending church was important. It was one way to show Heavenly Father how thankful he was for the gospel.
One Sunday morning, Seth was getting dressed for church. Mom and Dad appeared in the doorway.
“May we talk to you, Seth?” Dad asked as he and Mom sat down on the bed.
Seth finished buttoning his shirt. “Sure.”
“Do you remember how far Dad has to drive to get to work?” Mom asked.
“Yes, it takes forever,” Seth said.
“Mom and I have been praying about it,” Dad said, “and we’ve decided it’s time for us to move closer to my job.”
“Where is our new house going to be?” Seth asked. “Will I be able to ride my bike to Aunt Spring’s house?” Aunt Spring lived just a few blocks away, and Seth couldn’t wait until he was old enough to ride over to play with his cousins.
“No,” Dad said. “I’m sorry. Our new house will be too far away for that, but our family and friends can come visit us and we can visit them.”
“Oh,” Seth said quietly.
“This will be a big move,” Mom said. “You’ll make new friends, and we’ll live in a new neighborhood. It’s important for our family so that Dad can be home more.”
Seth knew his parents wanted the best for him and his little brothers. “I guess it’s all right if we move.”
Dad gave him a big hug. “We’re glad you agree.”
Several months later, Seth’s family began packing boxes. Seth was excited. His new house had a big backyard, and there was a playground down the street. Seth was also looking forward to going to kindergarten.
Just one thing worried Seth. How would he learn about Jesus? They would live too far away for him to go to church.
“What’s wrong, Seth?” Mom asked, noticing the gloomy look on his face.
“I don’t want to move anymore,” Seth said as his eyes filled with tears.
Mom put her arms around Seth. “I know it’s hard to move away from your friends and cousins.”
“It’s not just that. How will we get to church?” Seth asked.
“Our new church will be right down the street,” Mom said.
“But I don’t want a new church, Mom. I like our church.” Seth knew there were a lot of good churches, but he knew The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was the only true church.
Mom smiled. “After we move, we’ll go to a new building on Sundays. We’ll have new teachers and meet new people, but it will still be The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. And we’ll learn the very same lessons.”
Seth smiled. He was happy he could still go to the same church and learn about Jesus.
Soon Seth and his family were busy unpacking boxes in their new house. Seth picked out the clothes he wanted to wear for church the next morning.
“Are you sure church is going to be the same?” Seth asked Mom.
“Absolutely,” Mom said. “Don’t worry, Seth. When we get to church tomorrow, listen for the Spirit to tell you if we’re at the right church.”
Seth awoke early the next morning, excited to go to Primary. He asked Heavenly Father to help him know if he was at the right church. Then, Seth got ready to go.
At church, Seth heard someone playing a familiar song on a piano. Seth felt a warm, happy feeling. He was glad to still be able to attend the true church, even after moving far away.

Many years ago, our family had an experience which left an indelible impression as to the importance and value and power of a father’s blessing. The lessons learned may be of interest to you.
When our oldest children were ready to begin formal schooling, Sister Bateman and I decided that a father’s blessing would be given each child at the beginning of the school year. The family home evening preceding the start of school would be the occasion. The year our oldest son, Michael, entered the third grade holds special memories for us. During the preceding summer he had participated in Little League baseball. He loved the sport. When we gathered for family home evening just before the start of school, Michael announced that he did not need a blessing. He had completed his first season in Little League, and blessings were for younger children.
Sister Bateman and I were stunned. We encouraged him, suggesting that a blessing would help him with his schoolwork. It would be a protection to him. It would help him in his relations with his brothers, sisters, and friends. Our encouragement, along with some coaxing, failed. He was too old. Believing in the principle of agency, we were not about to force a blessing on an eight-year-old. All of the children except Michael received a blessing that year.
The school year proceeded normally. Michael and the other children did well in school, and the family enjoyed their associations together. Then the following May arrived, and it was time for Little League baseball to begin. Following the last day of school, Michael’s coach called a team practice. Michael’s anticipation could not have been greater. His dream was about to be realized. He was to be the starting catcher. The baseball diamond was only a few blocks from our home. The boys and the coach walked to the baseball field, crossing a busy highway. Following the practice, the boys and coach started for home. Michael and a friend ran on ahead of the coach and the other boys. As the two boys approached the busy highway, Michael failed to look and darted in front of a car driven by a 16-year-old young man out for his first drive. Can you imagine the fear that must have struck the young man’s heart? He slammed on the brakes and swerved in an attempt to miss the boy. Unfortunately, the side of the front fender and bumper hit Michael and threw him down the highway.
A short time later, Sister Bateman and I received a telephone call from the police. Michael, in critical condition, was in an ambulance on his way to the hospital. It was important that we hurry. Before leaving, I called a friend and asked him to meet us at the hospital and assist in giving a blessing. The 20-minute drive was the longest of our lives. We prayed fervently for the life of our son and to know the will of the Lord.
As we parked the car by the door of the emergency room, we saw a policeman exiting with a young man who was crying. The policeman recognized us and introduced the young man as the driver of the car. We knew enough of the story to put our arms around him and tell him that we knew it was not his fault. We then entered the hospital to find Michael. As we entered his room, the doctors and nurses were working feverishly, attending to his needs. My friend had arrived, and we asked if it would be possible to have two or three minutes alone with him. My priesthood brother anointed, and I sealed. As I laid my hands upon Michael’s head, a feeling of comfort and peace came over me, words flowed, and promises were made. He was then rushed to the operating room.
For the next four weeks, Michael lay in a hospital bed with his head bandaged and his leg in traction. Each Wednesday, his Little League teammates would visit him after the game and give him a report. Each Wednesday, tears would well up in Michael’s eyes and run down his cheeks as the boys relived the game. After four weeks in traction, Michael was put in a body cast from his chest to his toes. On two or three occasions we took him to a game to watch his friends play. Another four weeks passed, and the body cast was replaced with a cast from his hip to his toes. Two days before school was to begin, the final cast was removed. As the family gathered the next night for school blessings, is there any wonder as to who wanted the first blessing? A nine-year-old boy, a little older and a lot wiser, was first in line.

Young Latter-day Saints on the outer islands of French Polynesia wanted to hold a youth conference. But they faced some problems.
Challenge 1: Location. The islands are far apart, with no regular lines of communication or transportation between them.
Challenge 2: Law. The government requires any youth gathering to comply with approved standards, including supervision by a state-certified director.
Challenge 3: Food. Little edible food grows in the crushed coral soil of the atolls. The diet is based on fish, coconuts, and whatever is shipped from Tahiti.
Challenge 4: Water. There are no rivers or lakes. Rain provides the only source of drinking water.
Challenge 5: Lodging. There are no dormitories, barracks, or even hotels on the outer islands. Where would people stay?
Faced with so many obstacles, it might be tempting to give up. But the Saints here know that if they have faith, God helps them find answers. They continued planning their conference. And soon, solutions were found.
Solution 1: Stay close to home. Conference planners decided to hold several small conferences on a local level. This would allow youth groups to gather without lengthy travel or a lot of expense. The first conference was held on Takaroa, one of 77 islands in the Tuamotu Archipelago. Takaroa is a stronghold for the Church in the area—270 of its 396 inhabitants are Latter-day Saints.
Solution 2: Find a willing brother. Brother Stanley Brodien, Executive Secretary in the Paea Tahiti Stake, was the answer. A school psychologist, he spends summer vacations organizing youth gatherings, summer camps, and outings. He already had the proper government certification.
Solutions 3, 4, and 5: Use local resources. Takaroa had been blessed with an abundance of rain. Storage tanks were full and could supply needed water. Some food had to be brought along in coolers, but a baker from the nearby island of Manihi, Branch President Pitori Faura, would provide bread, and local members would help the youth catch fish and gather coconuts as needed. As for lodging, most of the youth could stay in homes with members. Some of the young men would bring tents and camp on the beach.
And now, the conference! Most of the 70 LDS youth from the three islands attending the Tuamotu North Youth Conference are involved either directly or indirectly in the pearl industry. The youth are highly skilled in tasks like skin diving and scuba diving, which are required for pearl cultivation.
But besides the pearl farms, the focal point of the island of Takaroa is the century-old LDS chapel, built from coral, with its hand-painted moldings, red tin roof, and bell tower stretching 90 feet above bedrock. It is larger and taller than any other building on the island, symbolic of the Church’s importance in the small community, and a perfect place for the youth to gather.
After their arrival, some aboard a fishing vessel, some by speed boat, the youth were divided into four groups, mixing age levels and participants from the islands of Takaroa, Manihi, and Takapoto. The youth chose Book of Mormon names for their groups: Ether, Nephi, Mormon, and a popular hero in these islands, Hagoth.
Cynthia Tufariua of Takaroa said, “At first I wasn’t excited about not being with my friends, but after the first day, I thought it was great to get to know kids from the other islands.”
Eric Hio of Manihi said, “I’ve never seen this many Mormons together in one spot.”
A shining example. But the shining moment of the conference came in the form of service. Except for one very rainy morning, several hours each day were spent cleaning different areas of the island—picking up trash, cutting weeds and bushes, removing rocks, hauling away garbage. During the conference, the youth cleaned beaches along the dock area and tidied up the village cemetery, the church grounds and building, and the local soccer field, which had become a garbage dump and an eyesore.
Mani Terooatea, a Laurel from Takaroa home on vacation from Japan, where she has been studying the technique of pearl grafting (placing tiny pieces of mussel shells inside oysters in order to cultivate pearls), said, “It was super to clean up the field, to see everyone working side by side. It didn’t take long, and I’m glad we could leave the place cleaner than we found it.” Mani brought along a nonmember friend, Hina Dexter, who developed a new appreciation for Mormons, as did several other non-LDS participants.
Start with scriptures. Each morning started with individual scripture study, followed by breakfast and a devotional, then the service projects, then sports and group activities, including island games such as “The Crab and the Coconut Trees,” “The Dog and the Thongs,” and “The Thief and the Pearl.” And to cool off after a hard day of work and play, a dip in the pristine lagoon waters among some of the most beautiful coral gardens in the world, myriads of brightly colored tropical fish, and curious but harmless reef sharks, provided a refreshing change of pace.
Besides morning scripture study and devotionals, two firesides and a home evening emphasized spiritual topics such as faith, standards, scripture study, goal setting, enduring to the end, striving for excellence, mission preparation, and seminary attendance. One speaker gave a brief history of the Church in French Polynesia, speaking of sacrifices made by early missionaries and members and challenging the youth to be willing to make similar sacrifices to share the gospel.
End with a testimony. As the conference closed, young people expressed gratitude for new bonds of friendship, strengthened testimonies, and their renewed desire to know and serve the Savior. One young man who had been only semi-active before expressed his newly gained desire to serve a mission: “I want to get my life in order so I can share with other people the testimony I felt growing during this conference. I want to spread the joy the gospel brings.”
Like a pearl. The youth conference taught islanders another thing as well. They saw that with patience, challenges can be turned into blessings. It reminded them of the black pearls they grow in their lagoons. A little bit of mussel shell is an irritant. But with time and care, the oyster transforms it into a thing of beauty.

This young woman enjoys her life now, but she didn’t always feel that way. Here’s an account of how she found peace after struggling with feelings of worthlessness and suicide. We hope that hearing this true experience will reassure you that your journey is also important. If you are struggling with hopeless thoughts, please don’t give up—you are not alone. Your life is valuable, and you are loved. Hang on. Things will get better.
Answer: I struggled as a child. I had a wonderful family and didn’t go through any obvious tragedies, but I always seemed to feel angry at myself and those around me. I would take these feelings out on my siblings. The more I mistreated them, the worse I felt. And yet I couldn’t seem to stop. This behavior drove a wedge between me and my family members. When I was 12 years old, I thought I was an evil, rotten, worthless person. I thought everyone would be better off without me.
Answer: I remember one time at the doctor’s office, the pediatrician asked Mom if she had ever heard her children say, “I wish I’d never been born.” And Mom answered, “No, all of the kids are fine.” I was surprised that Mom didn’t know I had thought about killing myself. So I tried to tell her what I was going through. But she acted so shocked that it made me never want to talk about it again. I pretended that I hadn’t really meant it.
Answer: Yes, but I didn’t really understand what a testimony was. I always knew deep down that there was a God, but Satan was working hard to convince me to doubt everything else. So I started wondering if the entire Church was wrong. Fortunately, I had some great Young Women leaders who were inspired to help me and show me a lot of love. One of them in particular helped me start feeling better about myself.
Answer: A bright spot was my Young Women class. I had a teacher who taught right at my level. She’s since moved away, and I wish I could tell her what she meant to me. I don’t remember what she taught exactly, but I remember feeling like I belonged there.
Another thing that really helped were temple trips. Even though I often felt worthless and didn’t think anyone cared about me, I enjoyed the spark of light and goodness of the temple. I often felt the Spirit there. One trip in particular made a difference. It started out bad because one of the older girls said something hurtful to me. But later that day, she apologized and gave me a hug. And I learned that I really liked hugs! After that, I asked her for a hug every Sunday. One Sunday I sat down in sacrament meeting without getting a hug from her. And she came up to me and said, “Where’s my hug?” with a smile. I felt so surprised and special that she sought me out and showed me love. She and I became closer and closer friends. I know hugs don’t help everyone, but they helped me.
Answer: Sure! She was the craziest, most energetic person I have ever known. She seemed to have never-ending amounts of happiness to share. She greeted me with so much enthusiasm and love every Sunday and gave me a hug. Her dose of goodness seemed to be just what I needed. I would carry it with me during the week. Over time, I began to accept that what she said was true. The Spirit was working on me. This is when my behavior finally started to improve in a lasting way. And my suicidal thoughts, which I’d had about a year, went away, though I still had to work on how I felt about myself.
Answer: Another turning point was when I began to volunteer at a nonprofit organization each week with my older brother and my mom. I was sometimes the only volunteer on my team who showed up regularly, so my supervisor counted on me. I found I really liked that. For example, one time we were cleaning up together, and she got called away to do something else. I kept sweeping and working hard. When she came back, she said that I had really good initiative and gave me so many compliments. And it felt so good. I realized that working hard and doing a good job was fun. Helping was fun! So I began to try my hardest to be the best volunteer that I could be. I gained enough experience to train other volunteers. I developed a passion for this organization and made friends.
Photograph from Getty Images
During this time, my behavior continued to change in positive ways as I felt the Spirit increase in my life. Over the next couple of years, I made friends again with my family members. I started feeling like a good person instead of a bad person. I became a happier person. People even commented on how much I smiled. And my happiness no longer depended on having a leader saying good things at church. My testimony of Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ was growing, and I could feel Their love for me.
Answer: My testimony keeps growing stronger. I know now that Heavenly Father loves every one of us—including me. I know the Book of Mormon is the word of God. I know that no matter what mistakes we have made, we can come back to goodness. We can repent through the Atonement of Jesus Christ. Anyone can return to Him again.
Answer: Please, if you are experiencing low self-worth, or depression, or want to die, or any other feelings like that, reach out for help. Go to a parent, a youth leader, a former Primary teacher, a bishop, even a friend—anyone you feel you can trust. I promise you that Heavenly Father does not want you to die. He wants you to live and feel joy. He wants you to feel His love. Turn to Jesus Christ. He can help you throughout your trials. He knows everything you are going through. Meanwhile, Satan is the one who tells you lies about yourself. Ignore him. He wants you to fail. Heavenly Father wants you to succeed.
Answer: Honestly, I still have a hard time accepting compliments or believing good things about myself sometimes. And I think insults hurt me more than they hurt most people, even if they’re just a joke. I still sometimes have a hard time believing that people love me until I feel convinced. But overall, I like myself and who I am becoming. It is a glorious feeling!

My name is Nancy Chow. I came to the United States a few years ago. I met the missionaries. They came to my house to help me with English and teach me about the gospel of Heavenly Father. They also brought the New Era magazine. When I read the story “Buying the Feeling” in the July issue, I really loved it. I learned a lot of different kinds of words and how to become a good person by helping somebody if they need help. Thank you very much!
Nancy ChowOakland, California

I grew up as a serious, responsible person who followed the principles that my parents, with their limited religious knowledge, taught me. However, after my father died in 2005, when I was 15, I became someone different. Maybe it was a way of expressing my pain for not having said good-bye to him. I will always regret not giving him a kiss before he went to the hospital.
After his death I started hanging around people who didn’t have good values. I was doing things I thought were OK and that everyone was doing, but I now understand they weren’t pleasing to the Lord. I was having fun, according to the world’s standard of fun, but in reality I wasn’t happy. I was empty and missing something, but I didn’t know what. I started doing poorly in school. The worst part was that I had no idea how to find happiness in my life. At the time I didn’t see how much I was missing out on with my family and my mom, who is the person I love most.
At night I would pray to God. No one had taught me how to pray, but I felt like He was listening. I asked Him to help me be happy and to let me know if my dad was OK. I was so afraid that he was suffering somewhere. My pleas went on for many nights.
The answer finally came. I thought I would receive an answer in a dream, but instead it came in the form of two elders. They came to our house in December 2006. I didn’t understand that they were an answer to my prayers, and I didn’t want to listen to even one discussion. My mom listened and decided to go to church. She hasn’t stopped going since. She was baptized, and a few weeks later my nephews and my sister were baptized. I noticed a huge change in my mom after her baptism, to the point that she seemed much younger and happier. Her happiness and peace filled our house immensely; the minute someone came in he or she could feel that something was different.
I realized what had happened and decided to go to church. It was a strange experience; I had never been treated so kindly before. The sisters were friendly and treated me so well that I felt very comfortable at church. Little by little I was convinced the Church was true, and I decided to listen to the lessons from the elders.
I was baptized on February 3, 2007, in the Uribe Ward, Veracruz Mexico Stake, by two amazing elders. I will always remember them, and I consider them our angels. My baptism is a day I’ll never forget. I was clean from all sin. My mistakes had been erased because of the Atonement of Jesus Christ. I left my depression behind, and the void I had felt was no longer there. It was replaced by tremendous joy in my soul.
The true gospel has brought my family and me so much happiness. I’ve found eternal friends. I continue to battle against the world, but now I have the true gospel and the Spirit that give me joy and peace daily. Now I know the answer to the question I was asking the Lord for so long. If my dad accepted the ordinances we did for him in the temple, I know he’s happy and at peace. I believe he accepted the gospel and is waiting for us.
Sometimes I look back and realize how much I’ve been blessed. I see there is a greater happiness than that offered by the world and its pleasures and distractions. True happiness comes from the gospel of Jesus Christ. Everything that the gospel teaches is for our good.

The unique qualities possessed by these men and women whom I have mentioned can be of invaluable assistance to us as we face the problems and the trials which lie ahead. May I illustrate by mentioning the experience of the Pollard family of Oakland, California.

A few years ago, as Elder Taavili Joseph Samuel Pollard was traveling to the mission office on the last day of his mission in Zimbabwe, the mission car he was driving somehow spun out of control and hit a tree. A passerby was able to rescue Elder Pollard’s companion, but Elder Pollard, who was unconscious, was trapped in the car, which burst into flames. Elder Pollard perished. His mother had passed away eight years earlier; hence, his father was rearing the family alone. A brother was serving in the West Indies Mission.

When the news of Elder Pollard’s death reached his father, this humble man—who had already lost his wife—called the son serving in the West Indies to let him know of his brother’s death. Over that long-distance telephone line, Brother Pollard and his son, no doubt grief stricken and heartsick, sang together “I Am a Child of God.” Before concluding the call, the father offered a prayer to Heavenly Father, thanking Him for His blessings and seeking His divine comfort.

Brother Pollard later commented that he knew his family would be all right, for they have strong testimonies of the gospel and of the plan of salvation.

One of Amanda’s great-great grandsons is Hal Loren Taylor, my father. In February 1966 he was serving as president of the Southwest Indian Mission, headquartered in Holbrook, Arizona. While in Salt Lake City for training meetings, he and my mother had to take my two-year-old sister, Susan, who was critically ill, to the Primary Children’s Hospital. When the meetings concluded, Dad left Mom and Susie there in the hospital in Salt Lake City while he returned to the mission in Arizona. He later recounted,

I had a terrible cloud of discouragement over me and I didn’t want to leave them. . . . This heaviness seemed to become worse the closer I got to Holbrook. When I arrived that night, I was so discouraged that I felt I would simply work and work hard enough that I might overcome this terrible feeling.

He started going through the large stack of letters on his desk. A thick letter from a friend who worked out on the Indian reservation caught his attention. He opened it and began to read, hoping to receive some words of encouragement. Instead, the letter contained harsh criticism of him personally and his approach to teaching the gospel to the Lamanites. He stopped reading partway through the letter, his discouragement reaching a new low. He buried his face in his hands and cried aloud, “What am I doing down here?” feeling that the Lord had forsaken him. In that moment the following occurred:

I no more than said those words when a glorious spiritual experience took place where in it was brought so clearly to my mind that I thought someone was speaking these words to me: “Fear not, I am with thee, be not dismayed, for I am Thy God and will still give thee aid. I’ll strengthen thee, I’ll help thee, and cause thee to stand.” That is where the message ended. I looked up from having my head in my hands almost expecting to see someone, or the words written on the wall, because of the glorious feeling which I had. I saw no one, but know that somehow the Lord was giving me the encouragement which I badly needed. I remember straightening up my shoulders and raising my head and feeling a strength that I had never felt before. . . . I realized like I had never realized before that the Lord did not neglect his servants. I cannot remember ever having a real discouraging feeling for the next two and a half years of mission work. [Personal history of Hal Loren Taylor, unpublished manuscript]

My sister, Susie, survived. Although she still has health challenges, she is today the happy mother of a missionary son who this week completes his service in Chicago, Illinois. My father finished his mission in Arizona and four more that followed, faithfully relying on that firm foundation, the Savior. My father recently celebrated his 92nd birthday.

When the patriarch asked my son Blaine, his father, and me to come fasting to his home to receive a patriarchal blessing, he told Blaine that this preparation would help him to be able to give Blaine the blessing the Lord would have him receive.
We arrived at the patriarch’s home and the blessing began. It was a remarkable experience.
I felt I knew what the patriarch would say before he said it. The Lord seemed to be giving me some special insight about things I would need to know.
As Blaine grew a little older, it came time for him to go on a mission. He was interested in athletics, school, and many other things, and the thoughts of going on a mission did not fit into his plans.
One day, he said to his father: “Dad, do I have to go on a mission?”
His father replied, slowing his words thoughtfully: “No … Blaine … You don’t have to go on a mission. My sons are to make that decision and go because they want to go.”
He then came to me and told me that his father said he didn’t have to go on a mission, so he wasn’t going to go.
“But Blaine,” I said, “What about your patriarchal blessing? The blessing says you will have to bring the gospel to many.”
He didn’t reply but he was thoughtful. Later, he happened to meet a friend, crippled from poliomyelitis, who had just returned from his mission, excited and happy.
“Hey, David,” he said, “Why did you go on a mission?”
“Oh, Blaine, I went for the same reason every boy should go, to show the Lord how much I love him.”
The comment struck fertile ground. The words of his patriarchal blessing came back to him and Blaine committed himself to serve the Lord in the mission field.
My remarkable foreknowledge of Blaine’s blessing was a great aid to me in helping him make his decision to serve a mission. I think every mother in Zion is entitled to this kind of spiritual help in preparing her sons and daughters for the privilege and the responsibility of missionary service.

President Hinckley shared the following story about Sister Hinckley’s grandfather at the rededication of the Manti Temple. He said:
“Yesterday morning as we came here, Sister Hinckley and I were brought to the east temple door. They wanted to get us in quietly, I guess. But in any event we were brought privately to the east temple door, and the door was opened. There are two of them there (two sets of them), but the one we came through was opened—a very, very heavy door, some three inches thick, beautifully milled, beautifully put together, beautifully hung on substantial hardware. And it was a very touching experience because her grandfather, who was a young man then, at the time twenty-four years of age, married with one child and another one coming, hung those doors. And in the course of hanging those very heavy doors he suffered a hernia which became strangulated. He suffered terrible pain for a few days and died, literally a martyr to the faith which had prompted him to work on this temple as a finish carpenter over a long period of time, for which he received no compensation other than a pound of butter or a dozen eggs now and again” (fifth session, 15 June 1985).

When I was a young boy, my parents received a gift that became fascinating to my younger brother David and me. The gift was a miniature model of the golden plates the Prophet Joseph Smith received from the angel Moroni. As I recall, the model plates had 10 or so metal pages with words written on them. However, those pages weren’t what caught our attention.
We had been raised hearing the stories of the Restoration. We knew of and had sung in Primary about golden plates hidden deep in a mountainside and delivered by the angel Moroni to Joseph Smith.1 As the curiosity of our young minds stirred, there was one thing we really wanted to see: what was written on the small section of the model plates securely sealed with two small metal bands?
The plates sat on an end table for several days before our curiosity got the best of us. Although we clearly understood that these were not the actual plates Moroni had delivered, we wanted to view the sealed portion. So on several occasions, my brother and I tried using butter knives, old spoons, and anything else we could imagine to pry apart the sealed portion of the plates just enough to see what they contained—but not enough to break the small bands. We were at least smart enough not to leave a trace of our mischievous boyhood curiosity. To our disappointment and frustration, these attempts to “pry at the plates” were always unsuccessful.
I still don’t know what—if anything—was hidden under that sealed portion. But the embarrassing part of our story is that to this day, I have no idea what was written on the portion of the metal pages that was meant to be read. I can only imagine that these pages contained stories of the Restoration and testimonies of Joseph Smith and the Three and Eight Witnesses, who saw the actual plates Moroni delivered.
Knowing the diligent nature of my younger brother, I imagine it very likely that he read all the words written on the model plates in our parents’ home. I, however, ignored those plain and precious truths and instead exerted my effort searching for those things that were not meant to be revealed.

One young woman wrote and shared an experience about a very special boyfriend. She told of his desire to persuade her to participate in improper conduct. She said: “I would tell him that I wanted him to be worthy to go on a mission. Every now and then, when it felt right, I’d say little things about standards or following the wrong path. A few weeks ago, I called him up, and I bore my testimony to him and told him why I say no. It was so hard. I hung up and just bawled. The next day I got a note from him, and in it he told me that I was one of the most respected young women he knew. I am so happy that I have the standards of this gospel and that I could pray to my Heavenly Father for the strength to handle these trials.” And then she closed with this strong commitment: “I’ve made up my mind. I will keep plowing right through all the trials that Satan puts in my way.”

Aulola Mateialona was born into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. She was raised by faithful grandparents in Ha’alaufuli, Vava’u, Tonga and she was baptised at eight years old. Aulola later graduated from Liahona High School, a Church-owned school.
When she was 15, Aulola received her patriarchal blessing, which promised that if she stayed true to her covenants with the Lord, she would be married in the temple. It wasn’t until a few years later, as she prepared to serve a full-time mission, that Aulola fully understood the immensity of that promised blessing. As she walked through the Nuku’alofa Tonga Temple for the first time, she was overwhelmed by the desire to return one day with her eternal companion and be sealed to him in that sacred place.
The reality of Aulola’s life, however, didn’t quite follow the plan in her heart. After her mission, it took some time before marriage became a priority for her, and by then she was in love with someone who didn’t share her faith.
“He’s a good man,” Aulola says. “He always welcomed [my Church’s] missionaries into our home and always fed them, but he was never interested in hearing their message.” His family are devout members of their own faith, and he would not break with their tradition. Their difference of religion put a great strain on their marriage. Aulola was unable to attend sacrament meetings as often as she liked, and she couldn’t raise their children in the Church the way she had been. Eventually, the contention in their home proved too much. After 23 years, the couple decided to part ways.
Aulola was devastated. She had lost her marriage and, with it, her hopes for the future with her family, but she was also suffering now from debilitating health issues. In her grief and pain, she turned to her Father in Heaven for guidance. “I fasted and prayed, and I promised the Lord that if He would accept me back, I would never turn away again.”
Her prayers kept leading her back to her patriarchal blessing, which brought her comfort and peace at such a troubling time. One day, she reread the promise that she could be sealed in the temple, and Aulola knew what she needed to do. “I realised that if I don’t do my part, it’s not going to work.” In that moment, she recommitted to follow all of Heavenly Father’s commandments, and to draw near to Him through church attendance, daily prayer and scripture study.
Before long, Aulola reconnected with an acquaintance from her early days in Tonga: Brother Semisi Mounga Mateialona, a priesthood holder who had recently found himself single again, too. They bonded over shared experiences and their mutual love for the gospel of Jesus Christ, and Aulola knew in her heart that this was the man for her. The couple got married in New Zealand in 2019 and at the end of September 2022, they travelled to the Nuku’alofa Tonga Temple to be sealed to each other for time and all eternity.
At a recent temple fireside in the Auckland Papatoetoe Stake, Aulola reflected on what she says is a miracle. As a young woman, she had experienced the sweet sacredness of the temple and knew how important it was to worship there. Then, for 23 years, she didn’t know if she could ever qualify for the temple blessings promised to her in her patriarchal blessing—but she didn’t give up hope.
It took time, patience and the kind of faith that changes lives, but now Aulola feels like she’s come home again. Finally, she can testify: “When you stay near God, He is going to bless you as He promised—if you do your part.”

I am reminded of a fur trapper who had earned a modest fortune trapping foxes. He decided to go south for the winter and left his trap lines in the care of a carefully trained young assistant. He taught him just how to set the traps and where to put the bait.
When he returned in the spring, to his disappointment there were very few fox furs.
“Did you do it just as I taught you?” asked the older man.
“Oh, no,” was the reply. “I found a better way.”
You who are bishops and quorum leaders, I urge you to give adequate attention to priesthood home teaching. Do not release the home teachers by attempting to accomplish what they should do in other ways. You may invent a thousand of them in an effort to strengthen your youth, but sooner or later you must come back to doing it His way.

Photographs by Sepi Hawaikirangi
When 118 youth from Auckland, New Zealand, and their leaders planned a four-day temple conference to the Hamilton New Zealand Temple, they had a simple but impressive goal: to perform as many baptisms for the dead as possible during their stay.
They began preparing for the trip many months in advance. As part of the preparation, young men and young women researched names from their family histories that they could bring with them to the temple.
All their preparation paid off in a big way. The youth and their leaders had a spiritual feast from the moment they arrived to when they set their sights back home four days later—not to mention all the blessings that came before and after the event because of their devotion to family history and temple worthiness.
In order to spend as much time at the temple as they could, they wanted to stay near the temple instead of making the two-hour drive each direction every day. So for the whole temple conference, youth and leaders stayed in dorm rooms near the temple.
Being that close to the temple was its own reward for the youth. Nichalahr U., a Laurel from the group, said, “I didn’t want to come home after the temple conference because I got used to waking up to the view of the temple and how peaceful it was to just turn and look at it standing in front of you.”
You can enjoy the blessing of seeing the temple each day by putting a picture of one in your room.
It wasn’t practical to have 62 young men and 56 young women all doing baptisms at once, so they decided instead to go to the temple in shifts. The youth were divided into five groups, and each group attended at least two shifts at the temple during the four days.
That might sound at first like there was a lot of downtime and waiting in between. But nothing could be further from the truth. When they weren’t in a shift doing baptisms, the youth headed into the community to do service projects. Sometimes they walked over a mile (1.61 km) to reach their destinations—at which point they’d begin the service project.
They helped out with cleaning, yard work, and anything else families and organizations needed. One youth group helped replant a marae, an outdoor public meeting place in the New Zealand culture.
The youth were also in charge of cooking their own meals, which led to another goal the youth made for the conference: to learn how to prepare and cook food from 72-hour kits. This, too, required a fair amount of planning. Each young man and young woman had a budget to plan and shop for ingredients.
Although the dorm rooms had large kitchens to use, the youth all whipped up their masterpiece meals on a gas stove outside. Those meals were put to good use too, since the youth needed a lot of energy to keep up with the schedule. The only way they could fit everything in was to wake up at 5:00 a.m. and keep going strong until bedtime.
Of course, this was a four-day youth conference, so there had to be at least a little recreational time! One fun event was a dance. Yet even here the dance became more meaningful than usual as a result of some visitors.
During the week, the youth had an unexpected treat when they met a group of Saints from New Caledonia (a group of islands in the southwest Pacific Ocean that belong to France) who were also visiting the temple. They quickly became friends and had the opportunity to sing hymns and also perform ordinances in the temple in English as well as French.
On the night of the dance, the Saints from New Caledonia came to visit these youth. As soon as they arrived, the youth from New Zealand danced joyfully in a circle around them to welcome them. They hugged each other in friendship formed over a shared love of temple work.
Not surprisingly, the highlight of the conference was the actual time in the temple. Mahonri K., a priest, researched and brought names from his own family to do proxy work for them. “I was excited to help my ancestors who had passed on through the veil by being baptized and receiving the gift of the Holy Ghost on their behalf,” he says. “My testimony of baptism has been largely strengthened.”
Throughout the week, the young men and young women felt a strong spiritual connection to the work. Sara M., a Mia Maid, said, “I now have a strong testimony of the gospel and the importance of temple work.”
From the beginning, their goal was to complete as many baptisms as possible to help their ancestors. They succeeded rather spectacularly. The 118 youth performed baptisms and confirmations for 3,542 people, many of whom were their ancestors.
By the time the young men and young women were ready to leave, their testimonies were strengthened and their hearts were filled with gratitude. The youth even invited the sisters who work in the temple laundry to their closing exercises so that the youth could sing a closing song to them in appreciation for their hard work. (Just imagine how much laundry needed to be washed during this temple conference!)
The youth will remember the spiritual experiences they had during this temple conference for the rest of their lives. “The feeling that I received throughout each baptism was pure and innocent,” says Caleb R., a priest. “I could feel the warm embrace of the Savior’s love.”
Throughout the temple conference the youth strengthened their ties with the Savior, with each other, and with their ancestors. After gaining such new enthusiasm for the work, their journey in family history is only getting started.