Gospel Story Finder

My father, who was raised in a farming village, was living in the city going to school when he met my mother. My mother was beginning her career as a professional opera singer. As they became acquainted, she introduced him to the Church. Although he had not been baptized yet, my parents married on February 18, 1967.
At the end of that year they were blessed with the arrival of my older brother. Eight months after his birth, the branch president received a revelation that the members should prepare to be led out of the country to a place where they could worship in freedom. In August 1968 the Russians invaded Czechoslovakia, creating chaos at the borders and throughout the country. The branch members who had obediently prepared escaped to Vienna, Austria.
My grandmother, who left the country with my parents, wrote: “At night when everybody in the apartment house slept, we said good-bye to our home and quietly slipped away in fear that the baby might start crying. We had to do all this in secret because we had in our building three spies who worked for the secret police. We were blessed by the Lord. We escaped. When we left we knew we [would] never return, but we didn’t know where we would go from Vienna either. At this time we couldn’t worry about it. The Lord revealed to the branch president His promises to us if we stay faithful to Him.”
My grandmother, my parents, and two other families lived in the basement of the Böcklinstrasse church building in Vienna for over a month. During this month my father took the missionary discussions and was baptized. Many members of the three families found jobs, and they pooled their wages together until they were all able to immigrate to Calgary, Alberta, Canada. Due to bad weather in Calgary, their plane landed in Edmonton on November 5, 1968.

In January of 2007 I was home during Christmas break, and I was lonely. Then on the first Tuesday of the year, one of my friends from school who is not a Latter-day Saint called me and invited me to go to a botanical garden near our home in Arcadia, California. We were there for most of the day amongst beautiful flowers and trees with ponds, geese, and peacocks. After a while we got tired and decided to sit underneath a huge weeping willow to rest.
It was a sunny day, but you could hardly see daylight underneath the tree except for one small pillar of light that shone on the two of us. That place was so peaceful, and it reminded me of something.
“Do you know what this reminds me of?” I said. “This reminds me of Joseph Smith, when he went to the grove to pray about which religion was true.” She knew I was a member of the Church, so she sort of laughed. “No, I’m dead serious,” I continued. “There’s this sort of beauty to this place that fills me with a spirit of peace.”
We sat there in silence for about a minute or so. The whole time she had this look like she was debating whether or not to say something. Finally she asked, “How do you know? I mean, how do you know what you believe is true?”
This kind of caught me off guard, because she had asked me before what I believed but not how I knew it was true. I explained that I knew because I had prayed to know for myself. I had wanted to know if what I had studied and believed was true. So I had gone before the Lord with an open heart and mind and asked. Then I had been overcome by this feeling of happiness, as if no evil in the world could ever touch me. And all of those things that stress me out in life didn’t matter because the Lord was with me.
Before I knew it, she was in tears. She then said, “You don’t know how badly I want to believe in something, but everything I’ve ever believed in just disappointed me. How can I believe in something that isn’t tangible?”
At first I honestly didn’t know how to answer her. We let the question hang there for a moment as I thought of what to say.
“Faith,” I then said, “is so hard to develop and so easy to lose. Faith can only strengthen us, but we must have an open heart and mind to acquire it. It may be far-fetched, but I have never gone wrong with faith, and I know that’s how it’ll always be.”
With that, we just sat in silence, enjoying the peaceful feeling of the Spirit.

Many years ago, as a young stake president, one of our bishops had his home in Christchurch destroyed by earthquakes and liquefaction and had to move on several occasions. I asked this good man how he coped with such devastation. In that moment, he reminded me that he and his family knew who they were as children of God, and they had confidence that God would provide for them and look after them.

One of Sister Redd’s “jewel” times was at the birth of her first child, a son. But within three months the trials and tests of this life soon closed in. Both mother and child were afflicted with polio. Anxieties were high and prayers were intense. Brother Philip Redd, her husband and now area director of seminaries and institutes in Southeast Asia, was preparing within the month to begin his career as a full-time seminary teacher. “We felt we had really tried to do what was right and that we were doing what the Lord wanted us to be doing. We had faith that the Lord would bless us even in our afflictions.”
Our Father in Heaven has told us that his people must be tried and tested, even as Abraham who was commanded to offer up his only son (see Gen. 22:1–4; D&C 101:4). And so it was that this faithful couple was tested. Their prayers were answered, but only partially. Sister Redd was healed and left without any ill effects from the dread disease, but her precious child, her only son, was stricken with crippling paralysis in his leg, his arms, and his back. The brightness of a happy time had quickly faded. The scratches and bites of life became a painful reality. Brother and Sister Redd were forced to give up their child to the professional care of the children’s hospital over a 160 kilometers away where he could receive special attention. Even after a year he was still very weak and progress remained slow.
Three long anxious years, and the concern for her child only increased. The divine nature of a true and righteous mother, with all of the pure emotions inherent in the sacred role of motherhood, swelled within her aching heart. “I just wanted so desperately for him to be well,” she whispered. “It was so hard not to be able to tuck my little boy in at night. His life was vital to us.”
One night at the very peak of her anxiety, this young mother rose from her bed, went into the other room, and talked to her Father in Heaven. She had remembered an incident in her own childhood. A great and noble woman had prayed in behalf of her afflicted husband and requested that, if the Lord were willing, she be allowed to carry her husband’s infirmities so that his service to the Lord would not be restricted. This sister, almost immediately, became stone deaf and remained so throughout her life, while her husband, miraculously healed, became a spiritual giant, a man of God, and a powerful leader in building the kingdom of God in that area. With the memory of this incident in her heart, this faithful mother supplicated the Father in her son’s behalf, asking if she might take her son’s infirmities upon herself. Of this incident she concluded, “I returned to my bed and went to sleep.”
Even though her baby remained in the hospital, there were still some happy, “jewel” times. Another little boy was born and then a little girl. In time the afflicted child became stronger and stronger, and he learned to walk with braces. Eventually he was able to leave the hospital for a time, allowing this little family to be together at home for Christmas.
While there were ample reasons for quiet rejoicing, the scratching, biting times were painfully evident. Gradually over the following months Sister Redd became anxiously aware that she was losing the feeling in her hands and her feet. While diapering her baby, she would often stick the safety pin into her thumb unknowingly. When she noticed the blood, her growing concern increased. She sensed a frightening paralysis creeping over her entire body. It was very difficult for her to handle her little new baby and the responsibilities of her young family. As the months and years continued, there were both struggles and blessings along the way. Braces were laid aside and her little son managed to make his way to school. These blessings were acknowledged with humble gratitude, deeply expressed. But suffering severe headaches and with no feeling in her hands or feet, the young mother of three cried out for help. The support of family and friends seemed not enough. “People were good, so very, very good,” she gratefully recalled. “But being restricted physically, not being able to take care of those you love, is so very difficult.”
At this time a team of specialists determined that it was probably multiple sclerosis that had afflicted her body, leaving her so painfully handicapped. The thoughts of her future gave cause for great anxiety. “That was years ago,” she said. Sister Redd, now a beautiful, healthy, and active woman, vibrant in countenance and testimony, radiates a spirit that has been purified through struggle.
She spoke of the day she and her devoted husband, seeking first the will of the Lord in all things, sought counsel from a friend who had been the supervisor of seminaries and was now a General Authority. “He told us that he didn’t think the Lord meant for me to give my life. He gave me a blessing, explaining that the Lord had accepted my offering in behalf of my child. He promised me that I would live. But it is not we who regulate the magnitude of our tests or determine the time of relief,” she explained. “We do not receive a witness until after the trial of our faith (see Ether 12:6), and our Father in Heaven will make that determination.”
The very hour one might expect relief may be the moment in which the Lord will take count of our endurance and our faithfulness. Following the blessing, Sister Redd’s condition worsened, and on the 25th of October she was confined to bed. She had to be fed, and “I couldn’t even brush my teeth,” she explained. “My good husband and I talked about the purpose of life and death, and we prayed that we could accept whatever the Lord had for us. At that time we felt that everything would be all right.” Drawing strength from each other, these young parents were tested and were found “willing to submit to all things which the Lord seeth fit to inflict upon [them], even as a child doth submit to his father.” (Mosiah 3:19).
On the 20th of December Nedra Redd was flown to the hospital in Edmonton, Alberta. There she received further tests. After two long, anxious days, the doctors confirmed the probability that it was not multiple sclerosis that had afflicted her entire body, but rather a very deep and serious brain tumor at the base of her skull. It appeared to be inoperable. In her weakened condition, the possibility of surgery was considered a high and frightening risk. But the doctors explained that she would have only two weeks to live if they didn’t remove the growth. It was seriously impairing her breathing and would soon cut off her rapidly diminishing flow of air. The situation seemed desperate. One doctor offered counsel, suggesting that if they wanted to risk surgery, they would surely want to wait until after Christmas. But Sister Redd reached into her reservoir of strength, filled in large measure by the blessing she had received from their friend the General Authority. Courageously this young couple made their decision. “Surgery was scheduled for Christmas Eve,” she said. “We felt our Father in Heaven was beginning to answer our prayers,” she whispered. “On Sunday night my cousin, who was the stake president, came to give me a blessing. He told me later that when he gave me that blessing, he literally felt the strength flow from him.” The power of the priesthood was again activated in her behalf.
Anxious family and friends waited through the nightlong vigil following the surgery. Dawn broke forth; it was Christmas morning. The tumor had been removed. All was quiet as the moments ticked on in that hospital room. Her future hung in the balance. “I had a very special thinking time as I regained consciousness,” Sister Redd explained. It was in the twilight time between life and death that the gifts of life came back to this faithful woman on that Christmas morning. They returned one by one with enough space between each to allow time for cherishing and savoring. Such gifts, such jewels, such priceless jewels!
“I’m all right! I didn’t die in surgery! I’m alive!” was her first realization. “But everything was black, and I couldn’t hear anything. I tried to speak, and I couldn’t speak. I thought, ‘I’m blind. I can’t hear. I can’t speak. But I am alive.’ I can remember such a surge of gratitude that I was alive, and then I sank into unconsciousness again. When I realized later that I was conscious again and that there was a sort of grayness around me, I thought, ‘I am not totally blind. I can see some light.’ I can remember praying and telling my Father, ‘Thank you. I’m alive and I’m not totally blind.’ I couldn’t have lived in darkness. So I gave thanks again. Then I realized I could see Phil’s face. My husband was talking to me, but I couldn’t hear him. But,” she said with intensity, “I could see him. I was grateful that I could see his face.
“Soon I realized I could hear him speaking to me, so I prayed again and gave thanks that I could see and hear. I thought, ‘I can’t speak, but it’s enough. I can see and I can hear.’”
Sister Redd, reflecting on her deep gratitude for those precious gifts on that Christmas morning, shared the ecstasy of her final treasure. “The doctor was there. I had been trying to speak. I heard him ask my husband, ‘Can she speak?’ He shook his head just slightly. ‘I was afraid of that,’ the doctor said. ‘We had to destroy quite a bit of her vocal chords to get the tumor. I was afraid she would not be able to speak.’”
With a happy tone in her clear, full voice, Sister Redd recalled her thoughts at that moment: “‘Oh, so that’s it.’ I thought. ‘I can’t talk. But I can hear and I can see.’ I had such a deep feeling of joy and gratitude. Then the doctor put his finger on the hole in my throat where the tracheotomy was and said, ‘Now try.’ I could make sounds! I knew I was not mute. It was such a good feeling. We knew the Lord had blessed us.
“It was Christmas morning. Phil had spent the night with me when I needed him so much. With my whole soul filled with gratitude and thanksgiving, I asked him to go home and be with the children. It was a wonderful Christmas.”
From the deep reservoir of faith and courage, carved out by times of trial and suffering, Brother and Sister Redd rejoice. “It is such a comforting feeling to know that there is nothing the Lord can’t do or won’t do for you if it is for your good.” They have made this discovery: “The Lord is in the everyday things, not just the eternal, glorious things. It’s like the comparison between the ‘Hallelujah Chorus’ and quiet background music. He is in both, and knowing that provides a continuous awareness of happily-ever-after times in all of life.”

During the years following my mission, I attended the temple often in the area where I attended college. But I did not get to return to the Mesa temple until I went with the young woman I married for time and all eternity. As we knelt at the altar, I was reminded of my visit several years earlier—grateful for symbols and sealings found only in the house of the Lord.

I would like to share an incident which took place during the Vietnam War. There were some who were convinced that the United States was engaged in a noble and justifiable war. However, public opinion was changing, and there was opposition which argued that the U.S. should pull out of Vietnam.
President Harold B. Lee was the President of the Church at the time. While at an area conference in another country, he was interviewed by reporters from the international news services. One reporter asked President Lee, “What is your church’s position on the Vietnam War?” Some recognized the question as a trap—one which could not be answered without a very real risk of being misunderstood or misinterpreted. If the prophet answered, “We are against the war,” the international media could state, “How strange—a religious leader who is against the position of the country he is obliged to sustain in his own church’s articles of faith.” On the other hand, if President Lee answered, “We are in favor of the war,” the media could question, “How strange—a religious leader in favor of war?” Either way, the answer could result in serious problems regarding public opinion both inside and outside the Church.
President Lee, with great inspiration and wisdom, answered as would a man who knows the Savior: “We, together with the whole Christian world, abhor war. But the Savior said, ‘In me ye might have peace. In the world ye shall have tribulation’ (John 16:33).” And then the prophet quoted that other comforting scripture from John: “Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you” (John 14:27). President Lee then explained: The Savior was not talking about the peace that can be achieved between nations, by military force, or by negotiation in the halls of parliaments. Rather, he was speaking of the peace we can each have in our own lives when we live the commandments and come unto Christ with broken hearts and contrite spirits. (See Conference Report, Oct. 1982, p. 101; or Ensign, Nov. 1982, p. 70.)

Two Moons Dancing had been taken in by Jon-Bob’s parents some years before, when her own family died in a raging prairie fire. She had been seriously burned herself, but the boy’s father and mother had nursed her back to health. Shortly thereafter she had discovered an additional bond with this pioneer family: They, too, were Mormons. Her father, Standing Bear, had been taught by two young missionaries, and his testimony had inspired her to enter the waters of baptism.

The bishop was puzzled. A young man tempted by homosexuality was following the bishop’s counsel about prayer, fasting, scripture study, Church involvement, and self-mastery but was still struggling. As they talked, the bishop learned that the young man had been attending group therapy sessions. No guidance had been offered, the young man said; the sessions mostly consisted of detailed, drawn-out discussions of the problem. He found it disturbing, like “adding fuel to the fire I’ve been trying to put out,” he said. In the past, other ward members had been strengthened by therapy sessions. What was the difference?

Pondering the problem during the week, the bishop was led to these words by Elder Boyd K. Packer of the Quorum of the Twelve: “The study of the doctrines of the gospel will improve behavior quicker than a study of behavior will improve behavior. Preoccupation with unworthy behavior can lead to unworthy behavior.” He also read this statement by President Benson: “The Lord works from the inside out. The world works from the outside in. … Christ changes men, who then change their environment. The world would shape human behavior, but Christ can change human nature.”

Feeling the direction of the Spirit, the bishop typed up every statement about rising above homosexuality that he could find in general conference talks over the past 30 years, then asked the young man to read these as part of his gospel study. A week later, the young man told him: “Bishop, the strength and power of those words gave me the will to go forward and a desire to do better. A witness has come to me this week that I can do it.”

The bishop learned from this experience that there is no substitute for the power of the Savior in helping people turn from sin, and that to change lives, counseling must focus on applying principles of the gospel rather than dwelling on the sin.

I remember being excited to receive my endowment when I was getting ready to leave for my mission. I also remember having that excitement turn to worry and confusion after some family members gave me veiled warnings about attending for the first time.
I knew their intentions were genuine in trying to help me have a good experience. But I wish that instead of focusing on warning me that the temple was unfamiliar, people had helped prepare me for the temple in uplifting and correct ways.

She also paints an interesting picture of street meetings held at the time:
“At my first street meeting I wanted to laugh. It seemed so funny for two or three of us to stop right in the middle of a little side street; to sing, pray and speak to the few open-mouthed passers by who stood listening a few minutes then passed on only to be replaced by others. Some listen intently from the beginning to the close of the meeting which lasts about an hour. At both meetings we had a fair audience, respectful and good listeners. The noise of the street is so great at times, the speaker can scarcely be heard.”

I am so grateful for the love and insights President Nelson offers as a prophet. His talk on the temple ushered me towards getting my endowment, his devotional to the young adults has reminded me to recognize my chief identity as a child of God, and his push for gathering scattered Israel has been a constant topic amongst my family and ward community. Most importantly, he has helped me draw closer to my Savior.
Grace Burt, United States

The youth in Bradford Ward delivered 200 flyers in their local area for their harvest appeal, supporting the Bradford Metropolitan Food Bank. Local member Pauline was speechless when the printer who made the flyers to advertise the event told her, “Under the circumstances we won’t charge to do these for you as it’s a worthy cause.” On collection day, several people from the local Muslim community came to donate food, including a dad and his teenage son who had just been to a kickboxing class. The father said, “We always go for fast food after kickboxing, but we wanted to come here first today to give this food to those who need extra help.”

Darcey closed the door behind her. Her mother was sitting at the kitchen table reading. She looked up and said, “You were supposed to be home by twelve.”
Darcey nodded mutely. The expression on her mother’s face told her she was in more trouble than she had been in years. Yet at that moment she felt only an overpowering sense of relief that made her want to run to her and tell her how good it was to be home.
But she could only stand there, her hair and clothes reeking of cigarette smoke and beer. She felt like a dead skunk.
They said nothing more. Her mother got up and turned off the kitchen light. Darcey went up to her room. She undressed, climbed into bed, and stared at the ceiling, wondering how she could have been so gullible. How could Wendy be like that, she thought.
When she woke up the next morning she was still exhausted, but she couldn’t go back to sleep. So she showered and dressed, then slipped out the front door and walked up the street to Wendy’s house. Wendy’s parents were on a trip to Seattle, so Darcey went around to the deck. Wendy inevitably forgot to lock the sliding glass doors when she got home. As she stepped inside the house, Darcey found Wendy slumped over the kitchen counter.
“Morning,” said Darcey.
Wendy stared and peered around at her, slowly bringing her hands up to her ears. “Not so loud,” she whispered, hoarsely.
“You look awful,” said Darcey.
“Just a hangover.”
Darcey took the car keys out of her pocket and placed them carefully on the counter.
“Thanks,” said Wendy. Her eyes narrowed. “You didn’t tell, did you?”
Darcey shook her head.
“Yeah, my dad would kill me if he found out. You know, you tell your parents; they tell my parents; everybody gets into trouble over nothing.”
“Me, tell? I’m the one who got the ticket.”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Wendy, this is serious. I’ve got to go to court. What am I supposed to say?”
“That we were in my crummy old Escort, and no harm done. Okay?”
Her voice had taken on a scolding tone. Darcey looked past her, at the design of the wallpaper on the far wall. When she looked back, Wendy had fallen asleep.
Darcey left her and went home, heading for her room. The car was all Wendy cared about now, and that had been the first really stupid lie of the whole evening. How could she have thought that Wendy really had permission to drive her father’s sports car. But make one lie believable and the rest fall right in line. Darcey had been told they were going to a party at Steve Margerson’s, but somehow they ended up in Schenectady at Union College.
“It’ll be great,” Wendy had insisted, over Darcey’s objections. “Besides, you’re in my car. So you’re stuck. Anyway, nobody’s going to make you do anything, and it’s about time you went to a real party, one that’s not for little kids. Besides, Glenn says they’re all really smart. You can talk about intelligent stuff with them.”
Yeah, Darcey thought bitterly, intelligent stuff. Wendy had told everybody that her brother Glenn—a Union College junior—had invited them. She had told them she was two years older than she was. She told lies the whole evening, while Darcey hid in a dark corner of the living room, losing her hearing to the blast of the stereo, nibbling on potato chips, and not daring to touch anything liquid.
Then in the momentary lull between songs, someone complained to Wendy, “I thought you said she’d be fun.”
“Oh.” Wendy had replied. “She’s the designated driver.”
At least they stopped trying to get her to drink after that. But by the time she had convinced Wendy to go home, she found herself with the responsibility of taxiing inebriated party-goers around uptown Schenectady.
She had finally headed home across the I-890 business loop, thankful that none of her passengers had thrown up on her. In fact, now, on a bright Saturday morning, with an empty stomach and a headache, she could have written the whole episode off as a learning experience—if only she hadn’t taken the Broadway exit.
Darcey sighed. Whatever was going to happen would happen. The one redeeming consequence of really messing up was that her parents would take a good long time figuring out a proper punishment.
At school on Monday, Mary McMacken rushed up to Darcey and said breathlessly, “You really went to a party at Union and got stopped for drunk driving?”
“I didn’t get stopped for drunk driving,” Darcey gasped. “Who told you that?”
Mary was taken aback. “Wendy,” she said. “Anyway, how was it? I mean, the party. Were there any neat guys there?”
“No!” Darcey replied, with a vehemence that stunned Mary into silence. And then she couldn’t think of anything to say, so she turned around and walked away.
But Darcey couldn’t get away from it. All of her friends were just as inquisitive—or for reasons Darcey could not understand—just as impressed. The day was almost over before she caught up with Wendy. “Hi, Darcey,” Wendy said, pleasantly.
“You said you weren’t going to tell,” Darcey burst out. “Everybody thinks I got stopped for drunk driving.”
Wendy shrugged. “It was a drunk-driving checkpoint, Darcey.”
“I wasn’t drunk!”
“So what? For once in your life you’re actually an interesting person. I was only doing you a favor.”
“I don’t want to be an interesting person,” said Darcey, biting her lip, knowing she hadn’t said what she meant.
“Darcey,” Wendy said in an exasperated, condescending tone of voice, “I mean, sometimes you can be a real, uh, oh, forget it.” Wendy briskly walked away.
Wendy’s words stung all the more because Darcey knew that for a brief moment the party had sounded daring and exciting. But all she wanted now was to be her uninteresting old self.
Darcey threw her books on her bed. Then suddenly she caught her breath. The room was clean, too clean. Of course, it was wash day. She quickly rushed downstairs, into the kitchen, around the corner, down to the basement. She stopped before reaching the last step.
Her mother glanced over her shoulder at her while folding towels. “How was school today, Darcey?”
Instead of answering, she sort of nodded. She turned around and went back to her room.
When her mother came in Darcey didn’t look up. Her mother sat on the bed next to her. She took a folded slip of paper out of her pocket and handed it to her.
Darcey took the ticket glumly.
“Darcey,” said her mother, choosing her words very carefully, “I know it must seem like your father and I go to great lengths thinking up reasons to discipline you. But we have very vivid imaginations, and we inevitably imagine the worst that could have happened. What we really want to know is that you’re all right.”
Darcey turned to her mother, and the tears came. She explained what had happened, about driving home, the checkpoint at the Broadway exit, and the police. She’d had to do all those things she’d only seen before on TV—walking along a line on the pavement, touching her nose with her fingertips, trying to convince the police she wasn’t drunk. And she hadn’t had her purse with her, so she didn’t have her driver’s license.
After what had seemed an interminable conversation with his sergeant, the officer handed her the ticket and said, “Driving without a license. Court date’s in two weeks. Bring a parent or guardian.”
The whole time Wendy had staggered about shouting, “Darcey, c’mon. Let’s go home. Darcey, I wanna go.” The officer had escorted Wendy to the car, buckled her in and said, “Don’t let her have the keys.”
This episode would have to go down in Darcey’s life as an unapproachable low in her definition of personal humiliation.
Two weeks later she was in court as the bailiff called her name. Darcey and her father approached the bench. The judge examined her file briefly and then turned to his clerk and said, “Mel, there’s an attachment here.”
The clerk shuffled through his papers and came up with a torn, half-sheet from a legal pad. He handed it to the judge, who read it and said, “Well, young lady. It seems we have some extenuating circumstances here. Let me see. The car belonged to your friend and she had driven you both to the party where a bit of drinking was going on—against the law for someone of your age, I might add.”
“Yes, sir,” said Darcey, wondering how he had known all that.
The judge saw her expression and held up the paper. “Note from the officer on the scene. Well, next time you might consider a taxi. The court appreciates the reasons you drove without a license, but ends don’t justify the means. Nevertheless, I don’t think we have an actionable offense here. Though I might suggest to your father here that a month or two wouldn’t be too long a time for your driving privileges, being what they may, to be suspended. And if you haven’t taken your defensive driving course yet, I will have the court require it.” He banged his gavel on the table and said, “Case dismissed. Next case.”
“Well, let’s go,” Darcey’s father said simply.
To her dismay, Darcey’s father took the judge’s advice seriously. She went six weeks without driving.
As for Wendy, no one told. Not Darcey, not her parents. But a week after the incident Wendy’s father found a crushed beer can under the front seat of his car, and it was a brand he never touched. The cat pretty much worked its way out of the bag after that and Wendy ended up being grounded for a million years.
And everybody agreed that it didn’t make her a more interesting person at all.

During an interview in Nairobi, Kenya, Elder Nelson commented, “We’ve got Latter-day Saint chapels. We have a stake here [in] Nairobi. We had a stake conference today. It was a thrill to meet with the people. More than a thousand people gathered, [and they were so] reverent [and had a] beautiful choir, [an] excellent stake presidency, [and a] patriarch on the stand. How can I express my joy when I see such progress?”12

One of the sweet, widowed sister missionaries, Lorna Call Alder, said in her weekly letter to me: “The experiences of my mission have strengthened my testimony greatly. I cannot remember when I gained a testimony, but I do remember many experiences that have enriched and built upon the foundation I have. Of the many humbling experiences I’ve had, these past eight months have brought me closer to the Lord than any other period. I’ve lived through three revolutions in Mexico, which really built my testimony. Writing lessons for the Church brings one very close to the Lord, and he did bless me with more than I can tell you. But this mission has given me more twenty-four-hour spirituality than I have ever had.
“Other very spiritual uplifts in my life were times my sons were on their missions and they asked me to read the Book of Mormon while they were gone. My husband died while my oldest son was in Chile on his mission, and I was really humbled during that trying period. I am thankful for this experience of hard work and great blessings. With humility and thanksgiving, Sister Alder.”

I think some people wait for an experience to show them that they have a true testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ when really they have had a testimony all along and just didn’t realize it. I was one of those people.
I never questioned the truthfulness of the Church, but I hadn’t had that moment—that single experience—most Church members live their whole lives to have. I didn’t know what I expected: a bolt of lightning, an angel, or a near-death experience.
Fortunately it didn’t take something like almost dying to show me I had a testimony of this gospel. For me, it was just a moment of realization while reading my scriptures. I don’t recall the passage or the book, but I remember how I felt. It was the same feeling I got while singing a hymn, or speaking to my Heavenly Father in prayer, or sitting in sacrament meeting listening to the speakers. I had never thought much of that feeling before, but now it seemed it was the only thing that mattered. Again and again, the Spirit had borne witness to me of the truthfulness of the Church.
Now, the simple knowledge that I had of the gospel has become far more to me than just a religion I am a part of. It is everything. It is who I am and what I am. It affects every decision I make. I know I am a child of God. I know my Savior, Jesus Christ, came to earth to atone for all our sins. I know Joseph Smith spoke to our Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ face to face. I know this is the true gospel. I know it because I have felt it, and it is only through the Church that I can feel that gift of the Spirit.
No bolt of lightning, no heavenly angel, I just know.

When Caitlin was six years old, she asked her dance teacher if she could wear a more modest costume for the dance recital. When her teacher said no, Caitlin knew what she had to do. She told her teacher she would have to drop out because she had to do what Jesus would want her to do. Caitlin said, “It was a very hard decision to make, but I felt good afterward.”4 We respect our bodies by dressing modestly. We show we know how to keep the commandments and follow the Savior.

I received and read completely today the latest issue of the New Era. Since I have been in Vietnam, I have yet to see a sacrament meeting or any other Latter-day Saints. I have taken it upon myself to worship the Lord in my own time, and I try to do a little every day. I read and reread all the magazines—I just can’t get enough of them.
Nevel VanoverVietnam

“Understanding why I give priesthood service helped me become a better missionary while acting as deacons quorum president. As new people joined my quorum, I got to teach them how a deacon should act and help them with their duties. The more I serve, the greater my understanding and desire to serve others become.”
Lynden A., 14, England (on left, his brother Mikaeel, 11)

Tonight, in one of the stake centers in Arizona, my oldest grandson, who is twelve, is attending his first general priesthood meeting of the Church as a deacon in the Aaronic Priesthood. When he was born, I’d been waiting for over twenty years to buy a pair of cowboy boots for a boy. On his first Christmas, I gave him a pair.