Gospel Story Finder

Another example
Upon graduation from BYU-Idaho, my son Brady and his wife Erika decided to go to China and teach English for six months until they could begin their masters programs in Colorado. Upon arrival in China, they were met by their Chinese sponsor who took them out to dinner, then to their apartment where they were left on their own. School wouldn't be starting for another two weeks so they had a lot of free time. Their sponsor said if they needed anything, she would be happy to show them. However, they didn't want to be a nuisance nor did they know what they needed, so they remained at home.

The first several days were very lonely because they couldn't speak the language which hindered them getting around to do some sightseeing. They had a difficult time buying groceries because they couldn't read the labels, and the food they did have, they didn't know how to cook. The help they received from the Chinese teachers seemed like just enough to get by. Needless to say, they were feeling pretty alone and isolated. They began to wonder what in the world they were doing there. They also began praying that the Lord would help them and bless them to know what to do.

One day, a knock came on their door. It was a woman from Australian and her two daughters who had previously taught at the Chinese school. The family had heard that Brady and Erika had just moved in and felt impressed that they should come by to introduce themselves and give them an introduction to living in China from a foreigner's perspective. The daughters were so happy and willing to teach them how to get around and what to do. It was somewhat of an instant friendship. Was it a chance meeting or a coincidence? They didn't think so and neither do I. You see, Brady served his mission in Australia and so there was somewhat of an immediate link with them. This family helped them to be able to get out and use the transportation system, find their way around, shop (even finding a Wal-Mart), and find food to eat and actually figure out how to cook it. They were soon ready to begin the school semester. The most interesting part of it all was that the Australian family was preparing to move to a different area and only remained in town a couple more days. They didn't need to come over and introduce themselves but something led them to do so. It was just a short time after this that another couple arrived from Canada. Brady and Erika were able to pass on their knowledge and befriend this couple. If you ask them, they will tell you that they truly felt the Lord's hand reach down into their lives and bless them as a direct answer to their prayers. In return, they knew they were to be His hands in helping someone else.

It was evening during the Christmas season, and a heavy blanket of snow lay on the ground. For months my companion and I had braved the cold German weather, knocked on doors, and handed out copies of the Book of Mormon. Even then, 15 years after World War II had ended, many Germans were wary of Americans.
But that night Ingeborg Bienmuller was to be baptized. On the long bus ride to the United States Air Force base, however, she was quiet. I sensed her growing feeling of distress.
As we approached the bus stop, Ingeborg turned to us and said, “Do you know how difficult this is for me? The Allied forces killed my husband in the war, and bombing raids killed many other family members.”
She touched her leg. “I was hit with shrapnel from a sulfur bomb. My leg will never heal. I don’t know if I can go in there.”
We sat silent as her words sunk in and the bus came to a stop. Ingeborg sat rigid. My heart pounded. I prayed she wouldn’t turn away in fear.
She then rose from her seat and declared, “Heavenly Father has given me a testimony of the truthfulness of the Restoration. I know the Book of Mormon is true. I can do this! Elder Atkin, please help me walk.”
We made the long walk to the gate, Ingeborg’s breath coming hard as we passed the guards. We changed into our white clothing and found the pool at the base. The pool became a sacred place, and peace settled over us. The distress on Ingeborg’s face changed to joy as she stepped into the water and was baptized a member of the Church.
That night Sister Bienmuller became a member of the Würzburg Branch and one of the many in Germany who eventually overcame their fears and joined the Church.

Hiding behind Dad’s truck, I pulled ever so slightly on the rope that reached up over the tree branch above the garage door. The large bucket of water at the other end of the line jiggled as I pulled. I grinned. The trap was finally ready!
My big brother was so going to get it as soon as he came out of the garage. Kyle deserved it, too! This time his teasing had gone too far.
My little sister walked over to my hiding place again. “Come on, Megan. Let’s go play. Just forget about it,” she said.
“No way,” I told her. “I’m going to get even.” She didn’t understand. I had to do this.
“But I want to play on the swings,” she said. “Won’t you come with me?”
I shook my head. “Not until Kyle walks under my trap.”
My sister left. The sun rose higher. It was a perfect day to play outside. But this was important. I thought of all the rotten times my brother had teased me.
Banging and clanging sounds came from inside the garage. What was he doing in there?
I had to admit it was getting a little boring holding that rope. Especially on such a nice, sunny day. But I didn’t think about letting go for a second. The wait would be worth it when Kyle walked through the garage door and I dumped the big bucket of water on his head. I couldn’t wait to see his face! It would be the perfect payback.
A noise came from behind the garage door. My muscles tightened as I gripped the rope. I watched the door like a cat ready to pounce.
The lock clicked. The door swung open. I saw the edge of a tire and one of my brother’s sneakers. This was it! I yanked hard on the rope. The entire bucket of water tipped and poured all over Kyle. As the now-empty bucket dangled from the rope on the tree, I jumped up and hooted in excitement. Yes!
Then I noticed something that stopped my yell of excitement right in my throat. Kyle was pushing my bike. It had been broken for weeks. But now it was all ready to ride. I didn’t understand.
Kyle looked at me and said, “Um, I fixed your bike.”
I just stood there. As the water dripped off his face and off my bike, I didn’t feel at all like I expected to. My trap had worked perfectly, but I felt horrible.
The whole time I’d been waiting there, my big brother had been doing something nice for me. In fact, now that I thought about it, Kyle did nice things for me all the time.
“I’m sorry!” I said, still feeling awful. “I was … I mean, earlier today …”
He held up a hand and smiled. “It’s OK, Megan. I’m sorry too. That’s why I wanted to fix your bike.”
Kyle looked up at the bucket. “Nice trap,” he said. Then he laughed. “I never saw it coming.”
I couldn’t help but laugh with him. Suddenly I felt much better inside. My big brother had already forgiven me. Just like that! I realized I needed to learn how to do that too.
“Hey, want to ride bikes?” I asked.
Kyle nodded. “Sounds awesome. I’ll probably dry off faster that way.”
As we laughed again, I knew it was going to be a great day after all.

By the end of May 1829, the same kind of persecution Joseph had experienced in Manchester began occurring in Harmony, and Joseph realized he would need to move again to complete the translation. Along with his wife, Emma, and his scribe, Oliver Cowdery, Joseph was taken into the household of some acquaintances: Peter and Mary Whitmer of Fayette Township, New York.

Mary Whitmer was shown the plates by a heavenly messenger. As far as we know, she never committed her experience to writing. But Mary shared her experience with her children and grandchildren, who later shared it with others. Her grandson John C. Whitmer related, “I have heard my grandmother (Mary M. Whitmer) say on several occasions that she was shown the plates of the Book of Mormon by an holy angel.”

Her son David said that “she was met out near the yard by [an] old man.” Grandson John said this man was “carrying something on his back that looked like a knapsack” and that “at first she was a little afraid of him.” However, “when he spoke to her in a kind, friendly tone and began to explain to her the nature of the work which was going on in her house, she was filled with unexpressible joy and satisfaction.”

John provided further detail on the wonderful witness of the sacred record that Mary received at that time: “He then untied his knapsack and showed her a bundle of plates. … This strange person turned the leaves of the book of plates over, leaf after leaf, and also showed her the engravings upon them; the personage then suddenly vanished with the plates, and where he went, she could not tell.”

John stated: “I knew my grandmother to be a good, noble and truthful woman, and I have not the least doubt of her statement in regard to seeing the plates being strictly true. She was a strong believer in the Book of Mormon until the day of her death.”

But Te Oranoa M., age 17, from New Zealand has a different take on things. “What inspires me about this scripture,” she says, “is that it doesn’t say they are lost forever.”

What an incredible insight! And it’s one that comes from personal experience. “I, myself, fell away from the Church,” she says, “but I have been able to come back.”

Te Oranoa grew up in the Church and talks about gaining her own testimony and even setting spiritual goals. “But that testimony grew cold,” she says.

In some ways, she found common ground with Amulek, particularly in the way he described himself to the people of Ammonihah: “I did harden my heart, for I was called many times and I would not hear; therefore I knew concerning these things, yet I would not know” (Alma 10:6).

For Te Oranoa, that scripture hits close to home. “Just like Amulek, I knew all these spiritual things, and the Spirit was telling me to do certain things, but because I was being a bit stubborn and a bit prideful, I wouldn’t do them. Afterward, my testimony kind of faded away.”

In the end, Amulek’s story would become more than merely familiar to Te Oranoa. It would also become a turning point on the road back.

Even during the time when her faith had grown cold, she could still remember sweet experiences from before. Te Oranoa never forgot how she’d felt when attending the temple with her youth group or going to a youth conference.

“There was a pattern,” she says. “I’d feel really good when I came to church, but I didn’t feel good when I missed church.”

There finally came a day when Te Oranoa decided to see if she could connect with those good feelings again. The first thing she did was to read through recent general conference addresses.

An October 2016 general conference address, “Learn from Alma and Amulek,” by President Dieter F. Uchtdorf, Second Counselor in the First Presidency, woke something in Te Oranoa’s soul. She recognized a lot of her own life and feelings as President Uchtdorf described how Amulek’s faith had faded. She also remembered more strongly than ever the happiness she had enjoyed when her faith was stronger. Instantly, she wanted to make some changes.

“I was hoping to find something to reignite that fire of my testimony,” she explains, “so I read President Uchtdorf’s talk, and yes, I felt on fire!”

Te Oranoa’s path back to faith hasn’t always been easy, but there is a particular light at the end of the tunnel that keeps her going: the hope of an eternal family.

“Families can be together forever,” she says. “That’s my biggest dream, my biggest hope in life. Whenever I want to learn about something, or I find a doctrine hard to understand, I try and relate it back to eternal families. For example, why is Jesus Christ’s Atonement important to me? For one thing, I need His Atonement in my life so I can be worthy to enter the temple and be sealed to my family for all eternity.”

It’s perhaps worth remembering that the people in Lehi’s vision who fell away after tasting the fruit did, in fact, still taste it. They must have known of its goodness, even if only briefly. And they can discover it again. That’s the hope Te Oranoa clings to, for herself and for others.

“You don’t have to keep going down those forbidden paths for the rest of your life,” she says. “You can turn back to the Lord whenever you want.”

I would like to share with you the following story. Nine years ago this spring, my son Ben came to me and said, “Dad, we are going to hold our family reunion this summer at Flaming Gorge recreation area” (a distance of 220 miles east of Salt Lake City). “Why don’t you, myself, and any of the boys in our family that would like to leave a few days early, ride our bikes to Flaming Gorge, and meet the rest of the family there?”
I said, “That sounds great, but we only have one motorcycle!”
Ben said, “No, Dad, you misunderstand. I mean pedal bicycles.” I thought he was kidding. He said, “I will outline and prepare a training schedule for us. We’ll get up early Saturday mornings and for three hours we’ll go out and ride over the courses I will outline, so that when the time comes we will be prepared to go.”
I said, “Okay,” not really knowing what I was in for. I didn’t own a bicycle and knew I would have to use my daughter’s old, heavy, ten-speed bicycle with what seemed like bent wheels and a seat that was terribly hard. I also knew that getting up early on Saturday mornings was not one of my favorite things. But knowing that some of my sons wanted me to go with them, I said, “Okay.”
As the time for training and preparation came, I found all kinds of excuses not to go on the training rides. However, one Saturday I rode with them to the top of Parleys Canyon and back. It was hard, but I thought I would be okay. Little did I know!
The time for the trip came. I joined my boys the second day of the trip, as I had meetings the first day. The journey that second day took us from Heber City to Roosevelt (approximately one hundred miles).
As we checked into the motel that evening, I called my wife at home and told her I had never hurt so bad in my life. Every muscle, bone, and fiber in my body hurt from my head to my feet. I implored her, “When you come tomorrow with the rest of the family, please bring all the ointment and lotion you can find.”
She said, “Honey, you sound terrible.”
I told her, “I look and feel worse than I sound.”
The next day I hated to see the dawn come, knowing what it would be like to sit on that hard seat and pedal all day once again to reach our destination—especially the stretch from Vernal to Flaming Gorge, which would include approximately thirty-six-plus miles with grades up to 9 percent and ninety-degree-plus temperatures. Needless to say, for me the whole trip was a very trying and arduous task. But for my sons, who spent a lot of time waiting at the top of the hills for their slow, unprepared dad, it was exciting, fun, and rewarding.
That evening as we arrived at our destination, I came to an easy, yet profound recognition of how poorly prepared I was for what should have been a great experience with my sons, but was not because I did not take the time to properly prepare. I resolved that night that I would never again be that unprepared. I went home and bought bicycles for myself and my two youngest sons, and started training and preparing so that by the time the next summer came, my sons and I could ride our bikes to Lake Powell, a distance of three hundred miles, which we did. The next year we cycled to St. George, and every year thereafter, we rode our bikes to Lake Powell until our mission call to Scotland two years ago.

One of the “new” families in the branch is José Felipe Hernández Jorge and his wife, Magnolia. Baptized in Mérida, Mexico, eight years ago, they moved their family to Palenque two years ago and quietly fell into inactivity. “Six or seven months ago, Elder and Sister de la Cruz found us and we became friends,” says Brother Hernández. “We’ve been attending ever since!” After only a few months, he succeeded Elder de la Cruz as branch president.

My paper was due Monday. Todd had really loused it up. I had to trash the whole thing, all seven pages of it. Luckily, I stumbled across something about Jesse and Frank James, so I chose them for my new analysis. I typed my paper in a hurry on Monday morning, just before my class. It was pretty much a rough draft.

I thought my paper would be a “piece o’ cake.” Todd’s the reason I only got a C on the paper. Thanks a lot, Todd. But I guess sometimes it’s not such a bad thing to be wrong.

Streamers of crimson, pink, and yellow crepe paper seemed to glow in the California sun. Orange and yellow balloons clung to the peaks of arched Spanish doorways, with strands of multicolored paper serpentines trailing in the breeze. At a dozen booths arranged in a rectangle around the church courtyard, white banners, lettered in black, proclaimed the names of countries from all over the globe.
At one of the booths Svetlana Rudovsky, 17, a descendant of Russian, Italian, and Spanish ancestors, cut and served a tray of apricot pastry typical of her father’s home region in the Soviet Union. She wore a traditional costume with scarlet satin sleeves, a patterned green front, and yellow and black trim. It was bright, but not as bright as her smile.
At another corner of the courtyard, Tina Ksajikian, 13, opened a piece of pita bread and ladled tahini (yogurt) sauce onto a garbanzo bean patty called felafel. She topped the Arabian sandwich with shredded lettuce and handed it to an elderly woman eagerly waiting to try a new kind of food. Felafel is an Arabian dish, but Tina’s booth also offered a sampling of Armenian cuisine. Two large stainless steel bowls to her right contained egg-shaped balls of kufta—a blend of pine nuts, cracked wheat, and lamb.
Next to the bowls of kufta Tina had arranged a small display of Armenian books, most notably a Book of Mormon. “I can read parts of it,” she said. She attends an Armenian school and is learning the language as part of her classwork.
Both Tina and Svetlana are members of the Los Angeles California Stake, and both were serving food at a festival organized and run by the stake’s Young Women. As at almost any Los Angeles stake activity, there were young Latter-day Saints present representing a multitude of backgrounds and nationalities. So many different cultures were represented, in fact, that the festival seemed like a feast for all the world.
Central and South Americans comprise the largest portion of the stake’s young Latter-day Saints who were born outside of the U.S. In fact, there are two Spanish-speaking wards in the stake. “One of the most difficult things for us,” said Bertha Garcia, Young Women president of the Third Ward, “was to decide which countries we could represent at the festival. We finally decided on Guatemala, because that’s my native land. But we also did El Salvador and Mexico.”
Each country’s booth featured young ladies wearing native costumes and serving traditional national dishes. Cultural displays including posters, postcards, books, souvenirs, crafts, and artwork were also scattered around the covered lanai adjacent to the meetinghouse.
Louise W. La Count, stake Young Women president, said that the “Cultural Cook-off” was organized to encourage the Los Angeles Stake youth to appreciate each other’s background. “The stake is composed of a real potpourri of nationalities,” she explained. “A lot of the elderly people meet in the Wilshire Ward, and there are also the Korean and Chinese branches there. There are the Spanish-speaking wards, and the Hollywood Ward includes a lot of Armenian and Arabic members. The Westwood First and Second wards seem to have a high number of Americans with Scandinavian ancestors, so they chose to represent both America and Scandinavia.”
And, of course, everyone in the stake was invited to come taste treats and learn about other lands. By about 2:00 on a Saturday afternoon, members, families, missionaries, and investigators were wandering through a courtyard filled with foreign fragrances, new customs, and friendly, knowledgeable young women. Youngsters slurped up genuine Italian spaghetti, fathers tried to open wide enough to bite an all-American hot dog, and two college coeds from the UCLA Ward exulted over the delicious plátanos con crema (bananas with cream) offered to them by El Salvadorians.
Dressed in an elegant red and black Chinese gown, 15-year-old Mimi Chu of the Wilshire Ward described the mixture of cabbage, carrots, bamboo shoots, celery, water chestnuts, and mushrooms used as a stuffing in egg rolls. Mimi is the only member of the Church in her immediate family, but she said that family love is strong in her home, and “it’s not that hard.” “Support from friends and other members of the Church helps a lot,” she said. “My family runs a restaurant, and a lot of the members come there to eat.”
At a booth surrounded by shrubbery and bamboo, Kim Phuong Ho, 12, of the Westwood Second Ward, offered fried rice to onlookers and also talked about Vietnam, the country her family fled during time of war. “We came over when I was in second grade,” she said. “Since then, most of my friends have been American.”
Cotton puffs and red and blue ribbons outlined the wooden counter where Julianna Rees, 14, of the Westwood Second Ward, delivered crusty, powdered sugar-coated Scandinavian dessert rosettes to her customers. She explained how the cookies are made by dipping an iron into batter, then into hot oil. “I got the recipe from my grandmother,” she said.
Her friend Margaret Stohl, 13, from the Westwood First Ward, grinned and said, “I learned how to make them from my grandmother, too. Scandinavian grandmothers and cookies—they go together. When I was making my cookies, I was talking to my grandmother and she said she got her cookie iron for Christmas when she was seven years old. That was neat for me because I just got my cookie iron for Christmas, too.”
It seemed only natural for the chefs to swap recipes and for descendents to share stories of the influence, past and present, of their heritage. Svetlana told how her mother’s friends from the Greek Orthodox Church had volunteered to help cook food for the Mormons. Tina discussed her struggles to maintain an LDS identity at her Armenian school. In between serving slices of leche flan, a rich custard topped with burnt-sugar caramel, Maryjoy Morato, 17, of the Wilshire Ward, told how missionaries in the Philippines contacted her family and shared with them the gospel of Jesus Christ.
“They just knocked on the door one day,” she said. “But they were always welcome in our home because they would talk about good things.” Exposed to the light of the restored gospel, the entire family eventually joined the Church. Maryjoy’s father died, her mother remarried, and the family moved to America. “Members here are the same as in the Philippines,” she said. “There’s no change. They’re all nice.”
Laura Sanchez and Claudia Sosa, both 12, are members of the Los Angeles Third Ward. Both arrived in the U.S. just months ago, Laura from El Salvador and Claudia from Mexico. They would agree with Maryjoy that fellowship among the Saints is universal. “One of the reasons I know this is the true Church is because I always feel the same spirit,” Laura said. Their friend Maria de los Angeles Valenzuela, 17, from the same ward, expressed the same idea. Asked through an interpreter if there is a friendliness among Church members no matter what language they speak, she enthusiastically responded, “¡Sí, sí, sí!”
Many of the young women who participated in the festival spent hours with their mothers, relatives, and friends learning recipes, preparing food, sharing stories about “the old country,” and telling each other about parents, grandparents, great-grandparents, and traditions. They shared their spirit of love and appreciation for who they are and where they came from with each other, and later with those who came to take part in their celebration. They rejoiced together in the fellowship of the gospel, and in that small way, perhaps, invited everyone everywhere to join in another sort of banquet—the spiritual feast of the gospel, a feast to which the door is always open.

I was born in Brazil with rickets—a disease characterized by distorted bones. At 19 I weighed 50 kilos (111 lbs) and was 1.64 meters tall. As a result, I was not accepted into the military, so I began looking for ways to improve my physical condition. I began a series of exercises and ate a balanced diet.
During this time, I met the missionaries. I became acquainted with the Church and learned about the commandments, including the Word of Wisdom. It was just what I needed. It gave me guidelines of foods to eat and a list of impure items to avoid, namely tobacco and strong drinks. By reading the Doctrine and Covenants, I learned about the need for rest and sleep (see D&C 88:124).
I gained strength and weighed 78 kilos (172 lbs). I became a champion weight lifter. I also did judo and swam. Today at age 73 I am a marathon runner and have finished 30 marathons. In 2005 and 2006, I was second in my age class in Brazil. I have excellent health, and I am very happy.
I am grateful to our Heavenly Father for giving us laws that, if obeyed, will bring us blessings of health.
Antonio Olívio de Oliveira, São Paulo, Brazil

The inspiration for this lesson comes from a small book I came across more than ten years ago by a Jewish rabbi, Jeffrey K. Salkin, called Being God's Partner: How to Find the Hidden Link between Spirituality and Your Work. Rabbi Salkin told a story of a move that his family made from Pennsylvania to New York, where he was to become responsible for a new congregation. As he tells the story, the boss of the moving crew was a dead ringer for Willie Nelson. He also noticed as the day went on that this fellow was extraordinarily cheerful and careful with his family's possessions. Curious about the man's motivation, Rabbi Salkin sought the opportunity to engage the moving boss in conversation. Why did this person seem so happy about work that many would consider mundane? His explanation went something like this: "I am a Christian," the man said. "My purpose in life is to serve others. I love my work because I know that I am helping people at a time when they feel especially vulnerable. I cherish the opportunity to take some burden off their shoulders at a time when they might otherwise feel anxious and stressed." I love that little story, and I try to remember it in my daily activities.

One of the most boring discipline remedies that I can remember was “sitting on the chair.” When we were being punished for misbehavior, we had to sit on a hard chair in a corner of our dining room for a certain time which Mom would set on the oven buzzer. What made this punishment particularly unpleasant was that the chair was right by the piano. It never failed that a big sister would plop down on the piano bench and, seeing she had a captive audience, sing and play to her heart’s content. Talk about a fate worse than death!
That form of punishment failed because Mom and Dad had to worry about us sneaking off the chair and reducing the time on the buzzer, or simply disappearing. It proved a discipline dead end.

Last year on the first day of school, I met a new student. He made friends with boys who didn’t have good standards. They swore and sometimes made fun of other people. After a few weeks, I joined their group. My mom started to notice some changes in my attitude. I got into trouble with these boys, who I thought were my friends. My mom spent months telling me that if I wanted to make better choices, I needed to switch my friends. But I didn’t believe my mom. I got into a fist fight once. I didn’t feel very happy. I felt frustrated sometimes.
Fast forward four months. … One afternoon I read a story from the Friend called “Game Changer” (April 2017). When my mom and I were done reading the story, I felt in my heart that I needed to change friends or I would continue to have a bad last two months in school.
The next day I went to school and decided to sit away from my friends. I sat beside a girl named Olivia. We started talking, and it took one day to become friends. My mom prayed that I could make a new friend easily after we read the story in the Friend.
From this experience in my life, I’ve learned that your choice of friends affects your life a lot. Making new friends is not that hard if you make them with the right people. The Holy Ghost told me in my heart that I should sit at that different table, not tomorrow or in a week, but that day. I think Heavenly Father wanted to give me a new friend so that I could change. I’m thankful that I read the article in the Friend with my mom that day.
Harrison C., age 9, British Columbia, Canada

In an early story from Harper’s Weekly (1855) called “My Wife’s Tempter,” a suspicious husband overhears his wife talking to a mysterious visitor. The husband eavesdrops enough to learn that the visitor is trying to persuade his wife to leave her husband and family and to go with him to his “chief.” “You have no husband, woman,” the man argues. “The vow was annulled before it was made. Your husband in God yet awaits you. You will yet be blessed with the true spouse.” The wife finally agrees, and then leaves, sobbing. This allows the angry husband to approach the unsuspecting seducer:
“I rose and stepped silently into the open space in which he stood. His back was toward me. His arms were lifted high over his head with an exultant gesture, and I could see his profile as it slightly turned toward me, illuminated with a smile of scornful triumph.”
The poor husband throws himself at the intruder. They wrestle, and the husband finally gets the upper hand when the villain slips over a precipice and dangles there, his life depending on his grip on a slim root that the husband immediately begins to saw at with his pocketknife. To save his life, the villain promises to confess; he is pulled up to safety where, with bowed head, he finally admits, “I am a Mormon.” The husband is shocked by the revelation that the man who has ruined his home is actually a Latter-day Saint missionary, and the story concludes on a tearful note with the husband putting his wife out of the house: “This is no longer your home. You have deceived me. You are a Mormon. I know all.” And with that the husband sends his wife off to live with her father. He ends his narrative,
“I live in the same village with my wife, and yet am a widower. She is very penitent, they say; yet I cannot bring myself to believe that anyone who has allowed the Mormon poison to enter his veins can ever be cured. People say that we will come together again, but I know better.”

The author lives in Utah, USA.
Photographs by Getty Images
I had just finished breakfast when my stake president called to tell me that my mission application had been denied. My heart sank as he told me why—I needed to lose a certain amount of weight before I would be able to serve. As he explained to me what I would need to do in order to resubmit my papers, the only thing I wanted to do was climb into my bed and hide.
After the shock wore off, I called my dad at work and explained what had happened. He paused and then asked, “Well, what are you going to do?” Would I give up? Let go of my dream to serve a mission? No.
“I’m going to go for it,” I replied. “I’m going to try to lose the weight.”
Within a week, I had a solid plan of action. I learned as much as I could about nutrition and exercise and, after setting some goals, I was ready to get started. I felt so much love and support from my Heavenly Father. I knew that I was doing the right thing and that He would help me every step of the way.
As I worked hard every day, I began to see progress! It was exciting to notice the physical effects of diet and exercise, but what surprised me most was the spiritual health I was gaining. I became more confident and self-aware as I developed into the person Heavenly Father wanted me to be.
I realized that as my spiritual health increased, it actually became easier for me to improve my physical health. The sacrament was so important in helping me stay focused on my goals. It became a sacred time of reflection for me as I thought about my Savior and how much He had helped me on this journey. I knew that He would stay by my side no matter what.
Prayer also made a big difference. There were so many times when I was running on the treadmill and would just start crying because I was so tired and my lungs hurt and I just wanted to go on a mission. I would say a prayer because I knew that someone in the mission field needed me, and I knew that I needed help to get there. After every workout, I thanked Heavenly Father for giving me the strength to go on.
The gospel teaches us that our bodies and our spirits are one, but until this experience, I had never thought about how directly the health of my body could affect the health of my spirit. As I thought about my body as a temple, this connection between body and spirit began to make more sense. I knew that one reason we keep the temple so clean and beautiful is because it helps the Spirit to be there. So it makes sense that as I began to eat healthy and exercise more, I began to feel the Spirit even more.
I also noticed that I felt more energized and more willing to talk to and serve the people around me. I could feel the Spirit guide me as I put my trust in the Lord, and I discovered that I could turn to Him for help with any trial or hardship I might face.
Photograph courtesy of Jillian Pierson
After months of hard work, I finally received my mission call! I was so excited I could hardly wait. And when I entered the Missionary Training Center, I felt prepared both physically and spiritually.
I feel so blessed to have had the opportunity to learn how to take care of both my body and my spirit. Working toward a meaningful goal gave me the motivation I needed to become a better version of myself. I learned that if I rely on the Lord as I try to accomplish my goals, He will help me every step of the way.

After returning home from my mission, I took over the lawn-care business my brothers and I had started as teenagers. I was also busy with my university studies. One spring week, heavy rain and looming final exams left me overwhelmed and behind on yard work.
Midweek the skies cleared, and I planned to catch up on yard work after classes. But when I arrived home, my truck and equipment were gone. Curious, I visited the scheduled yards; each one had already been beautifully trimmed. At the last yard on the schedule, I saw my younger brother walking behind the mower. He saw me, smiled, and waved. Overcome with gratitude, I hugged and thanked him. His meaningful act of service deeply strengthened my love and loyalty for him. Serving each other is an unmistakable way we show our love for God and His Beloved Son.

When Juliana Circe da Costa, a member of the Colônia Branch, Jundiaí Brazil Stake, turned 18, she was worried about attending Relief Society. “I was afraid I would be alone and wouldn’t be comfortable with the adult women in the branch,” she says. “In the beginning it was strange, but the Lord has a purpose for everything. I’m not saying it was easy, but I’m grateful to the Lord and the sisters who were so wonderful to me.”
Juliana’s Relief Society president, Rita Ribereiro Pandolfi, played a key role in Juliana’s transition. “In our branch we receive the young women with open arms,” she says. “We know they face many changes when they leave Young Women and begin attending Relief Society.”
Like Juliana, many young women find that entering Relief Society can be an adjustment. However, not all young women are apprehensive about joining Relief Society. For some, entering Relief Society is a welcome rite of passage. “I felt ready for the change,” says Rachel Kramer of the Chapel Hill First Ward, Durham North Carolina Stake. “I was just as ready to leave Young Women at 18 as I had been to become part of it at 12. I felt that the women in Relief Society were wise, brimming with the virtue of a life in harmony with the gospel. And I was glad to go on to the ‘meatier’ gospel discussions and to be around so many women I could look up to.”
Ready to attend or not, young women entering Relief Society need the same thing—to be loved and valued, have friends, learn, feel the Spirit, and be a part of the organization. Experience shows that there are ways to make the transition easier. Proper planning between Young Women and Relief Society presidencies, fellowshipping, and a strong support system of caring ward or branch members can help.

During the winter of 1990, I was serving as a full-time missionary in Lérida, a city located in the Spain Barcelona Mission. My companion, Sister McKee, had become ill, and we had to stay in our apartment for several days. We were frustrated, especially because we finally had some investigators who were making progress and needed to be taught. We had others who weren’t progressing and needed to be encouraged. We prayed for ways to be useful during this difficult time.
One morning we were reading about the Savior, and we began to share our feelings about Him. Suddenly we knew how we could put our time to good use. We could create a presentation about the life and mission of Jesus Christ.
As we prayed for assistance, a feeling of peace came over us. We began to envision the illustrations we needed and to hear the words that would accompany them. We felt prompted to look in specific places, and there we found phrases or paintings that were exactly what we needed. We remembered issues of the Liahona and the Ensign where certain pictures were printed. We asked the members and other missionaries to help us get pictures we didn’t have. We had similar experiences locating music.
After working for several days, we finished the planning part of our work. We began practicing again and again to coordinate the music with the text, so that everything would fit together when we shared the presentation.
The name for our work became obvious. In the process of completing our project, we had come to understand aspects of the Savior’s mission we had never been aware of. Each of us could now say with much greater conviction, “I know that my Redeemer lives.” That phrase became the title.

Silvia Zamuria Vanegas of the Granada Branch, Granada Nicaragua District, recalls, “When I was baptized, I made a promise to the Lord that one day I would teach other people because what I had found brought me so much joy.” In May 2005, four years after her baptism, she left to serve a mission in Guatemala. But she had been sharing the gospel with friends and working with the sister missionaries long before her call. Sister Zamuria quotes a favorite saying that calls on those who can light a candle to share the light with people around them.

Whether she’s organizing her own flea market to raise money for the needy or playing Queen of the Woods in a “secret” green hideaway, Heidi Irene Pedersen fairly bubbles with enthusiasm. She lives with her family in Hallingby, a hilly, wooded area about 50 miles (80 km) northwest of Oslo, Norway’s capital city. Like many wooden homes in Norway—old and new—the Pedersens’ house has a ladder permanently attached to one of its outside walls, which allows quick and easy access for the skorsteinsfeir (chimney sweep) to reach the rooftop.
Touched by pleas to help poor people in third-world countries, Heidi got the idea one day to hold a flea market. Afterward, she and her friend Kim Pedersen, who helped her, sent the 150 Krone ($21.00) that they had earned to an organization that helps children in need.