Gospel Story Finder

When I was in high school, I decided it was time I gained a testimony of my own instead of relying on those of my parents.
I wasn’t quite sure how to go about gaining a testimony, so one night as I was kneeling by my bed saying my prayers, I asked the Lord to let me know whether or not the gospel was true. Then I jumped into bed and went to sleep.
The next day I did the very same thing and for the next few days after that. Needless to say, I was not gaining a testimony.
I decided to try a different approach. Instead of just praying and jumping into bed, I would pray and then wait on my knees for the answer to come to me. It didn’t.
Something had to be done. I had just finished reading the Book of Mormon. The people in there were constantly gaining testimonies. It just didn’t seem fair that I couldn’t get an answer. What was I doing wrong?
I was reading one night in Doctrine and Covenants 9:7 where it says, “Behold, you have not understood; you have supposed that I would give it unto you, when you took no thought save it was to ask me.” [D&C 9:7]
I realized then that I had been going about gaining a testimony all wrong. Instead of just expecting it to be given to me, I needed to find one.
I looked up all the cross-references I could find on the subject of testimonies, talked to my bishop about it, and talked to my parents and others.
After studying and fasting, I prayed and asked the Lord to help me know the truth. My testimony started to grow.
But I was wrong when I thought that my first prayer hadn’t been answered. Section 9, verse 7, was what I had prayed for. Although it was not a testimony, it was telling me the way I could find one for myself.

When the missionary discussions were completed, Brother Kim was not only ready to join the Church, but he wanted to be baptized at the same site as were Joseph Smith and Oliver Cowdery. On 29 July 1951, in the Susquehanna River near the marker commemorating the first baptisms in the restored Church, Seneca Branch President Joseph A. Dye baptized the first Korean Latter-day Saint. As he arose from the water, Brother Kim said he heard a voice saying, “Feed my sheep, feed my sheep.” He later recorded the event at the front of his scriptures, writing below the date of his baptism: “Words given—Feed my sheep.”

The Saints continued to sacrifice in many ways in order that the work might continue. Around 1890, John Hafen and Lorus Pratt, two Utah landscape artists, approached George Q. Cannon, First Counselor in the First Presidency, about the possibility of the Church supporting their art study in Europe. In exchange, they agreed to labor in beautifying Church buildings upon their return. The First Presidency sent them, along with several others who had shown artistic promise, on “art missions” to Paris, France. The Brethren did not want them only to beautify Church buildings upon their return, but to paint murals in the temple endowment rooms to enhance the experience of the participants. Covenants and sacrifice were once again intertwined as the men left families and friends in the familiar valleys of Utah for the urbane life of an unknown France. Using sacred and increasingly limited funds, Church leaders sent these men to improve their talents to add to the special building in Salt Lake City.

One of those art missionaries who willingly left the comforts of home was John Fairbanks. He arose at 4:00 A.M., Monday, 24 June 1890, in preparation for the long journey to Europe. “At 6 o’clock I kissed our three youngest—Claud (the baby), Ortho, and Leroy while they slept. Then my wife, and bid her good bye.” Brother Fairbanks noted with some remorse: “She was very much affected by the parting, but part we must. The rest of our children beginning with the youngest Ervon, Vernon, Nettie, and Leo walked to the depot with me. When the train came I bid them good bye [and] got on the train leaving the darlings standing on the platform with sorrowful faces and tears standing in their eyes.”

The train sped south from Salt Lake Valley to Provo, where Brother Fairbanks met Lorus Pratt. At Springville, Utah, the next stop, the third missionary, John Hafen, was waiting “with tears in [his] eyes.”

Jonathon grumbled as he climbed into the car next to his brother, Mike. He wanted to stay home and play the new game he had been given for his birthday last week. But his mother had insisted that they all go to the meetinghouse and help with the ward’s cleanup day.
“Why do we have to go?” Jonathon had asked his mother as he helped her load their vacuum into the car.
“It will be fun,” she said, smiling. “Besides, all of us use the meetinghouse. It’s only right that we help clean it from time to time.”
Jonathon stared out the window and watched the houses and trees pass by as they drove to the church. As his mother pulled the car into the church’s parking lot, Jonathon was surprised to see Brother Lawson park his car next to theirs.
“What is Brother Lawson doing here?” Jonathon wondered.
Brother Lawson had been very sick lately with a type of cancer called leukemia. He had been in the hospital for a long time. Jonathon remembered his parents encouraging Mike and him to pray for Brother Lawson during their personal and family prayers. Brother Lawson hadn’t been home from the hospital for very long.
Jonathon had always liked Brother Lawson. He was older than Jonathon’s grandfathers, but he went out of his way to talk to Jonathon and ask him about school and his sports team. One time he even came to one of Jonathon’s games.
As Jonathon climbed out of the car, Brother Lawson waved and said, “Hi, Jonathon.” Brother Lawson walked around to the back of his car and took a vacuum out of the trunk. Walking slowly, he pushed the vacuum into the church.
“Jonathon,” his mother called, “can you give me a hand with this?” She was struggling to pull their vacuum from the back of the car.
“Sure, Mom,” Jonathon said. He helped her pull the vacuum out and quickly pushed it across the parking lot.
All that evening Jonathon and Mike worked beside Brother Lawson. Several times Jonathon became tired and stopped to rest, but he noticed that Brother Lawson continued to work. And he was smiling! “It’s nice to be able to help, isn’t it,” Brother Lawson said.
Jonathon felt something change inside him. “If Brother Lawson can be happy while he’s helping, so can I,” he thought. He started working even harder.
“Thank you for coming with me,” his mother said later as they were heading home.
“You’re welcome,” Jonathon said. “I’m sorry I complained about coming. I didn’t know you could learn so much from vacuuming.”

I stood on the station platform with tears streaming down my face. I was leaving my Welsh home and heading for a strange country and a new life-style at Brigham Young University. My cases had been loaded onto the train, and all that remained was to say farewell to my father. We held each other tightly for a few seconds. He bent his head and whispered in my ear, “You’ll be just fine. I have faith in you.” He then gave me a gentle push toward the waiting carriage, and I boarded.
As his waving arm and tall figure slowly shrank from sight, an emptiness filled me. I felt desolate and alone. I stared out the window at the familiar green fields, hedgerows, and gray stone cottages fading from view. The hubbub of chatting ladies and the rustle of newspapers were blotted from my senses. I was lost in childhood memories of special times that I had spent with my father …
In the distant recesses of my conscious mind I heard the rhythmic sound of the train, but my thoughts remained far away. I realized, with an increasing sense of wonder, that as I had been growing up, an eternal bond had been cultivating between me and my father. My childhood fears and faith in his omnipotence had developed into a loving, trusting relationship that was reciprocated more and more as I matured and gained knowledge and experience.
This idea seemed hauntingly familiar. Could this be how my relationship with my Heavenly Father was built? Like my mortal childhood, perhaps my premortal life was a time when I developed faith and trust in my Father. I learned all that I could while we were together, then left my heavenly home with the knowledge that Heavenly Father had faith in me and in my potential for good in this new phase of my life.
As I pondered these thoughts, a glowing warmth filled me. It slowly encompassed the hollow ache I felt inside. I knew that however far from my earthly parents I might travel I would one day return and still feel the closeness and trust that we shared. But even more important, I realized that this very same bond exists between me and my heavenly parents. As my faith and trust in Heavenly Father increases, so will his faith and trust in me. He will always be there to help me if I will only call on him, and one day, if my faith remains strong enough, I can return to live with Him and feel that unity eternally …
My reverie was broken by a cough at my side. I looked up startled. The train guardsman stood beside my seat. “Tickets, please, Miss,” he said. I smiled at him and reached for my purse. “You’re a long way from home,” he said as he glanced at the gray slip of paper. I thought of my distant destination and my family getting farther and farther away. Then all at once I felt that burning inner warmth once more, and an echo of my father’s words resounded in my heart, “You’ll be just fine. I have faith in you.” I knew Heavenly Father was with me, too, and with faith in him I could meet any challenge. Comforted, I smiled again and said, “Yes, sir, but I’ll be okay because I’m not alone.”

Robin stared into the swimming pool. He tried not to think about how far he had to swim. All that mattered was earning the badge. The seepferdchen (seahorse) badge would show everybody in Germany that he knew how to swim all by himself.
I can do this! Robin thought. He took a deep breath and jumped.
SPLASH!
The cool water felt great on such a hot day.
Take it one meter at a time, Dad had told him. Don’t think about all 25 meters at once.
Robin kept his head down. He moved his arms and legs the way he’d been practicing for months. Every few seconds he pulled up for air.
Kick. Stroke. Kick. Stroke.
Suddenly, the swimming teacher blew her whistle. Robin looked up in surprise.
“Way to go,” his teacher said.
He’d done it!
Robin laughed and did a few underwater somersaults to celebrate. He was a seahorse!
When Robin got home, he hurried to find Dad.
“Dad, look!”
Robin’s dad set down his hammer. As soon as Dad saw the seepferdchen badge, he smiled wide.
“On your first try?” Dad gave Robin a big hug. “What do you want to do to celebrate?”
Robin thought for a second. “What I would really like is to go to the pool with you. I want to show you what I can do.”
Dad smiled even bigger. “Now that would be a celebration for both of us. As soon as I have some time, we’ll go.”
Robin pumped his fist in the air. He couldn’t wait to have the badge sewn on his swimsuit and go swimming with Dad.
Several days passed. Robin kept asking about the pool, but something was always in the way. Dad always seemed to be busy.
One morning Robin knelt by his bed to pray. At the end of the prayer, he added one more thing.
“Please give my dad some extra time so we can go to the pool. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
As Robin opened his eyes, he heard Dad knock on the door.
“Let’s head to the pool. I want to see you in action!”
Robin’s jaw dropped. “Dad! You won’t believe this. I just prayed that you would get some extra time so we could go.”
Dad folded his arms and leaned against the doorway. “Now, isn’t that interesting? You see, I just heard a quiet, clear message from the Holy Ghost that I need to take you to the pool. Sounds like we’d better go!”
They had a fantastic trip. Robin showed Dad how he could swim for 25 meters without stopping. Dad was impressed. And Robin was impressed with Dad’s underwater somersaults. Dad could do five in a row!
“I’m glad Heavenly Father gave you some extra time today,” Robin said.
“Actually,” Dad said, “I think I was just letting myself get too busy. I think the Holy Ghost was reminding me that we have to make time for each other, don’t you think? I promise to do my part.”
Robin smiled. “Me too!”
Dad’s eyes crinkled in a smile. “One more thing. Have I ever told you that I’ve never lost a splash fight?”
Robin grinned back. “The day’s not over yet!”
This story takes place in Germany. Read more about Germany on pages F6–F7.

It was really hard for me when we moved from Idaho to Utah. After moving all my life, I thought we were finally going to stay put. One day while at our library I happened to pick up the February 1985 New Era. I read “A Small Light in the Darkness.” It hit me hard what I needed to do. I needed to be doing what that boy was doing. I needed to set a good example too. Even though we’ve moved a lot, I’ve always had the New Era as a friend. Thank you for being a friend.
Barbara JacobMagna, Utah

Back to South America. I met one day a young Peruvian, way back in the hinterlands of Peru, beyond the trains and beyond the bus lines, where we had to go in a car, and he said to me, “I think I heard you the other day on my transistor.” He was in Peru; I was in Salt Lake City, in the general conference. But he heard my talk, which had been broadcast, I think, to the Telstar, and then to Buenos Aires, and then back to Lima, and then out into the wilderness. From this remote settlement, about as far away as you could get, he had heard, through this little pocket instrument, some of the general conference; and I realized that transistor radios would come smaller and smaller and would cost less and less money, until the people behind the curtains would hear it, and everybody in the world, nearly, could afford one of these little transistor radios, which would be pocket size.

One mother told the following experience that helps to explain this idea. She said, “Sometimes while we are eating, one of my children will get my attention and signal to me while his mouth is full of food. Grunting and waving, he will try to motion for me to do something for him. I know perfectly well that what he wants is for me to pour him a glass of milk, but I will wait until he uses words to ask me before I will do it. It’s not that I can’t understand what he wants but that I feel it is important for him to learn how to communicate well.”

Three years ago, Edward Pentreath was attending a large youth activity in England, where he lives, when he remembers feeling the Spirit in an overwhelming way.
“After the evening fireside, I went back to my room. I was praying, and suddenly I realized that this gospel is all true. I was so happy. All I could say was, ‘It’s true. I know it’s true.’ I remember calling a good friend of mine. When he picked up the phone, all he could hear was me saying, ‘It’s true! It’s so fantastic!’”
Now when Edward, a member of Ipswich England Stake, describes the feeling he had that night when the Holy Ghost testified of the truthfulness of the gospel, he describes it as a “warm shiver and a tingle which went through my body.” He has learned to recognize that feeling. He says he feels the Spirit often now that his friends are going on missions and as they have opportunities to bear their testimonies at camp, at youth conferences, or in church.
Edward was just one of the teens the New Era interviewed in the Ipswich England Stake. When we began talking about what it is like to feel the Spirit, a change came over each group. As they talked about this special subject, the teens sat up a little straighter, they were focused on what their friends were saying, and their eyes sparkled. When they told of their own experiences, just like Edward, they could remember in vivid detail what it was like to feel the Spirit.
The teens from the different wards in the Ipswich stake enjoy being around each other. They really like going to youth conferences—or conventions as they are sometimes called—where something as simple as singing together can bring the Spirit. Rebecca Fagg remembers attending her first youth convention as a 14-year-old. “I was struggling a bit and finding attending church to be quite a lot of effort. Then I went to the youth convention. The power of all the youth together made me realize how great it is to be able to go to meetings like that. When we sang, I was overwhelmed by the Spirit. I just burst into tears.”
Music was mentioned several times as a way to feel the Spirit. Seth Spencer, remembering how he felt at youth conference, said, “When you come together and hear about 1,000 people behind you singing, it’s so powerful.”
Simply attending church and doing the things they are asked to do helps these teens in their search for truth. James Mateer said, “I’m deacons quorum president now, and I look out for a few people. I like feeling of the Spirit guiding me. It’s peaceful. I feel happy.”
“I didn’t know what feeling the Spirit felt like until the start of this year,” said Tiago Pereira. “I was speaking to my dad, and he really helped me understand. We were just driving along, and my dad asked me if I had a testimony. At first I said, ‘Well, I’m not really sure.’ Then he asked me to describe the feelings I had when I felt the Spirit. As we were talking, I felt the Spirit again during our conversation. Both of us were crying by the end. It was good. From then on, it’s been easier to understand when I feel the Spirit.”
Seth Spencer summed up the way many of these youth feel about their parents. “My parents are my great teachers and have taught me since I was young to always listen to the Spirit. Whenever you have that warm feeling, that sort of little whisper in your ear, just follow it.”
Since the teens in Ipswich are often the only members in their school classes, they are sometimes put into the situation of teaching their friends, not just about the Church but about truths in life.
In Lucy Fagg’s case, she had to stand up for the gospel in class. The teacher was discussing some things about the Church that were wrong. Lucy tried to avoid confronting her, but her friends kept looking at her and asking, “Is this true?”
Lucy raised her hand. “The Spirit really helped me to know what to say, to tell her and my whole class that I was a member. I also felt comfort, and I was helped to answer the questions that everyone was asking me.”
Mary Mateer had an experience similar to Lucy’s. “One time a girl in my class asked a question, and I couldn’t sit and not say anything. It felt like the Spirit was pushing me. My heart was pounding the whole time. I just remember hearing the Spirit say to me, ‘Speak about Noah. Speak about Moses.’ It was the most amazing experience I’ve ever had. The words concerning Noah were in my mind, clear as day. I remember looking around the room at the people who were listening. You could see they were really listening. I could tell they felt the Spirit and that what I was saying was true.”
Such experiences give the teens here confidence. They know that they are not alone. They can rely on the Lord for help.
For some teens, feeling the Spirit is a daily occurrence. “One of my favorite times is every night when I start reading the scriptures. The Spirit is so strong,” says Joshua Donker. “Every day I look forward to reading my scriptures and writing in my journal.”
When Diogo Serra has a little time left after he has finished taking a school exam, he prays. At first he said very short prayers, but he started thinking that he would pray longer. He says that now “I have a conversation with my Heavenly Father. I tell the Lord about my week, what I’ve done, and ask for help or advice. That really makes me feel closer to Him.”
Some of the teens in Ipswich have felt the comforting Spirit of the Lord when they were in frightening situations. Tirion Guy told a story about being on a boat on the River Thames during a windy, stormy day. “The river was choppy, and it seemed to be getting worse. I remember some of the plates in the kitchen smashed, and the chairs were going everywhere. We had to walk up the sides of the boat so we wouldn’t fall over. While I was on the boat, I felt comforted that everything would be OK. But when we got off, when we were safe and it was calm, then I cried. When I was going through it, I can’t really describe it, but I was comforted.”
Diana Nunes described one thing about the Spirit that everyone seemed to feel but hadn’t put into words. Diana remembered when she had been sent ahead to live with relatives and start school before the rest of her family moved to England. Her father had given her a blessing, promising her that she would have confidence while they were apart. Diana said, “When he finished the blessing, I knew that when I was feeling alone and no one, not even my parents, could help me, the Spirit would be there to comfort me.”
These teens in Ipswich know that there is a place to turn for comfort, for answers to their questions, and to find peace, because they know that the gift of the Holy Ghost has been given to them.

When Elder Dale G. Renlund was 12, his family lived in Sweden. One Sunday, Dale’s friend Steffan brought a large firecracker and some matches into the Church building. Dale was excited. Dale took the firecracker and lit the fuse. He was going to snuff out the fuse, but he burned his fingers and dropped the firecracker! Dale and Steffan watched in horror as the fuse kept burning.
The firecracker exploded! An awful smell filled the chapel. Dale and Steffan quickly picked up the pieces of firecracker and opened the windows to let the smell out. They hoped no one would notice.
As people came to sacrament meeting, they did notice. The smell was so strong that people couldn’t focus on the meeting. Dale felt very embarrassed and ashamed. He knew that what he had done had disappointed Heavenly Father.
After church, President Lindberg, the branch president, asked Dale to come to his office because he could tell that something was wrong. Dale told President Lindberg how sorry he was about the firecracker.
President Lindberg was kind. He opened the scriptures and asked Dale to read some underlined verses. Dale read, “Behold, he who has repented of his sins, the same is forgiven, and I, the Lord, remember them no more. By this ye may know if a man repenteth of his sins—behold, he will confess them and forsake them” (D&C 58:42–43).
When Dale finished reading, he saw President Lindberg smile. As Dale left the office, he felt happy.
Elder Renlund learned that he could be forgiven when he did something wrong. He could feel happy when he repented and kept Heavenly Father’s commandments.

Perhaps you’ve experienced too much change in a very compressed period of time. Perhaps you are like the young man who returned home from his mission to ?nd that his parents were divorcing, his father was excommunicated, his ?ancée welcomed him home with the Dear John letter in hand, all the classes for his major were full, his prospective roommates were moving, and the company he was going to work for had gone bankrupt. (True story.) When changes like that happen all at once, it can be very dif?cult to hold on, to go on, without sustaining help from the Lord and from those whom the Lord raises up to assist you. Such changes can even threaten your spiritual stability and sense of peace.

Let me share a more positive story. We have a good friend who lives with his family in a modest suburb of Idaho Falls. He and his wife had decided to put their house up for sale and purchase a larger and nicer home up in the foothills. However, he attended the October 1998 general priesthood meeting, and listened carefully to President Hinckley's address when he said:
There is a portent of stormy weather ahead to which we had better give heed... I urge you, brethren, to look to the condition of your finances. I urge you to be modest in your expenditures; discipline yourselves in your purchases to avoid debt to the extent possible. Pay off debt as quickly as you can, and free yourselves from bondage.
This is a part of the temporal gospel in which we believe. May the Lord bless you, my beloved brethren, to set your houses in order. If you have paid your debts, if you have a reserve, even though it be small, then should storms howl about your head, you will have shelter for your wives and children and peace in your hearts. That's all I have to say about it, but I wish to say it with all the emphasis of which I am capable.[6]
At that point in time in 1998, the US economy was booming, prosperity appeared to abound, and there seemed to be no end in sight. Despite that, however, my friend returned home after that priesthood meeting, and before entering his house he removed the "For Sale" sign from their front yard. He conferred with his wife, and together they decided that they weren't moving, but instead were going to stay put and work hard to get out of debt.

It was almost exactly ten years later, in October 2008, when the US housing market "bubble" burst and the US and world economy entered a severe recession. While he and his family were able to weather that storm, many of their friends in the foothills ended up losing their homes. It was obviously a huge blessing for our friends to be able to keep their home, but I suspect the greater blessings will come from their decision to heed the guidance of the prophet.

Illustration by Josie Portillo
“Why is everyone else dating and having fun?”
“Why am I not married?”
“What’s wrong with me?”
Most single young adults have probably asked themselves these questions at least once! The challenge of seeking an eternal companion can take a toll on the faith and hope of even the most dedicated Latter-day Saints. And yes, also in my case, dating has been particularly difficult.
Marriage has always seemed like a grand adventure to me, and I’ve looked forward to it from a young age. But I got discouraged when it seemed like I was failing at dating during my college years. Though I went on many dates, had several serious relationships, and met accomplished and interesting women, I didn’t marry. And to me, those failed relationships felt like a sign that I was inferior and unattractive.
My feelings toward my singleness only got worse after a few more breakups when I began my career. It was easy for me to ask what was wrong with me and right with everyone else who was getting married. My patriarchal blessing, along with several priesthood blessings, strongly and specifically indicated that I would be sealed in mortality to a righteous woman. So why wasn’t it happening?
I started to wonder, “Have I done something to derail God’s plan for me?”
Finally, after “wrestling” before God for years through prayer, scripture study, and temple attendance, I received revelation regarding my situation through my friend and counselor, Brad (name has been changed). During one of our counseling sessions, he said: “Your happiness depends on you—not on someone else. When you’re happy when you’re single, you can be happy in any circumstances.” Likewise, President Russell M. Nelson taught, “The joy we feel has little to do with the circumstances of our lives and everything to do with the focus of our lives” (“Joy and Spiritual Survival,” Liahona, Nov. 2016, 82).
My entire perspective changed as the Spirit impressed these words firmly upon my soul. And I realized that I had always dated to fulfill a need—in my case, the need to be married simply so I wouldn’t be alone.
This definitely wasn’t a way of thinking that would lead to an eternally loving companion! Through Brad, the Lord gently taught me that His plan for His sons and daughters is not for them to marry based on need or cultural pressure or fear. Marriage is based on Christlike love. Then He taught me that my unmarried status could continue to teach me to live life and seek marriage based on pure love and not utility. To seek marriage for the right reasons.
Through this experience, I’ve learned three truths that I look to whenever I’m feeling discouraged about dating:
Your worth doesn’t depend on your marital status. Isaiah taught that “[God’s] thoughts are not [our] thoughts” (Isaiah 55:8). I thought that being single was a reflection on my lack of worth. However, God helped me see that being single is preparing me for a better marriage than I could have had if I’d gotten married on my timetable. It didn’t have anything to do with my worth.
Preparation dispels anxiety and worry. The Lord tells us that “if [we] are prepared [we] shall not fear” (Doctrine and Covenants 38:30). Seeking and then following God’s will has helped me let go of previous fears and frustrations about my marriage status. It has also helped me focus on preparing myself for whatever comes my way in the future.
There is joy in being single. Being single has blessed me with exciting travel opportunities, professional development, and ways to serve in the Church. While I still deeply desire marriage and children, God has helped me to appreciate how much there is to do in His kingdom right now, whether I have a companion by my side or not.
I’m still not married! My wife hasn’t magically appeared now that I’ve had a paradigm shift about dating and marriage, and I know I’ll still be frustrated sometimes with dating in the future. But a lot of fear and anxiety about my marital status is gone. And I now know that it’s totally fine to be single while the Lord and I work together to fulfill the eternal promises and blessings that He has made to me—both those in mortality and in eternity.

“I hope Matt doesn’t forget me,” Melody thought as she sat in the backseat of the van on the way home from the airport. Her brother would be gone for two whole years on his mission to Indiana. Matt had looked so grown up in his dark suit, white shirt, and tie. After he had hugged everybody good-bye, he walked away to board the airplane without even looking back. That’s how excited he was to start spreading the gospel.
Melody took out her notebook and pen, and wrote, Matt will be gone two years. There are twelve months in one year. 2 x 12 = 24. Matt would be gone for 24 months! That seemed much longer than two years.
Melody drew a picture of Matt in his missionary suit. Even though she was going to miss him, she wanted to help him be a good missionary. She began brainstorming in her notebook.
What I can do for Missionary Matt:
something that will help Matt be a good missionary
just from me
every month
small and sturdy so it’s easy to mail
Melody put a necktie on her drawing of Matt. What about ties? A tie was flat and small. But Matt had several ties already. A tie every month wouldn’t be so helpful.
Cookies? Matt loved the chocolate-chip cookies without nuts that she made especially for him. But she didn’t think her cookies would make it all the way to Indiana in one piece.
Jelly beans? Socks? Postage stamps? Those were things you ate up, wore out, or used up. Melody giggled. Some of her ideas were silly, but she was getting closer.
Something flat just for Matt.
“That rhymes!” Melody said.
Something small, though he’s tall.
Something sweet, but not a treat.
Suddenly Melody knew. She would write a poem for Matt every month. Turning to a clean piece of paper, she began her first poem.
My brother is gone to Indiana,
Matthew is his name.
He’s gone to serve the Lord
And others just the same.
When Melody got home, she copied the poem neatly onto a sheet of stationery. At the top she wrote,
Matt, this is your first Missionary Poem of the Month!
Each month Melody wrote a new poem. She wrote about the light of the gospel and fasting and the temple being built nearby. She wrote about making her chores fun to do, about the Book of Mormon, and about the seasons passing.
Sometimes when Melody sat down to write the next Poem of the Month, her mind was blank as the paper in front of her. But Melody thought and thought until an idea popped into her head. She decorated her poems with drawings, rubber stamps, and bright paper cutouts.
Matt wrote letters home almost every week. Sometimes he thanked Melody for her poems, but sometimes he didn’t mention them.
“He’s busy finding and teaching people the gospel, Melody,” her mother said.
Melody kept writing her poems. Four. Eight. Twelve. And then she lost count. She wrote about Christmas and New Year’s, and about trying her best in school. She wrote a funny poem called “Elder Ants” about how busy ants are like missionaries all over the world spreading the gospel. When Melody turned 12, she wrote a poem about doing baptisms for the dead in the new temple.
At last it was time for Matt to come home. Melody began her last poem like this:
It’s now been 24 long, hard months
For our family and for you.
But it’s been a great two years,
The big two years that flew!
It seemed there was hardly time to get it in the mail before Matt was home. At the airport, Matt gave Melody a big hug. He looked taller than she remembered and spoke with a quieter voice, but he was still the same smiling brother.
At home Melody watched Matt unpack. There were worn-out white shirts, socks with holes in them, and a tangle of ties. There were journals Matt had filled with stories and testimonies. There were family letters and photos of people he taught.
“Now, where are those … ?” Matt rummaged in his suitcase. “Ah, here they are.”
“What is it?” Melody asked.
“Guess. Here’s a clue. They came every month. I loved them a bunch!”
“Is that supposed to rhyme?” Melody asked, laughing. “You need some help!”
“Well, I’m not as good at poetry as you are!” Matt said.
“You mean you saved my Poems of the Month?” Melody asked.
Matt handed her a large, puffy envelope. “Your poems really helped me whenever I got discouraged,” he said. “You shared your testimony in those poems and made me laugh when I was sad. Melody, as long as your poems kept coming, I knew everything was fine at home.”
“And I knew you were one month closer to coming home!” Melody said.
They dumped the poems out on the bed and read every one. Twenty-four poems that helped the two years fly by.

May I share with you a letter I received some months ago which provides such an example? The letter begins:
“We live on the edge of a small town, and our neighbor uses our pasture for his cattle and as payment provides us with all the beef we want. Each time we get new meat, we have some of the present supply left over; and since we live in a student ward, we take meat to some students we feel might have use for some good beef.
“During the time my wife was serving in a Relief Society presidency, her secretary was a student’s wife—the mother of eight children. Her husband, Jack, had recently been called as ward clerk.
“My wife had always prayed to know which students might need our help with our excess meat. When she told me she felt we should give some meat to Jack and his family, I was very concerned that we might offend them. So was she. We both were worried because they were a very independent family.
“A few days later, my wife said she still felt we should take the meat to them, and I reluctantly agreed to go along. When we delivered the meat, my wife’s hands were actually shaking, and I was very nervous. The children opened the door, and when they heard why we were there, they began dancing around. The parents were reserved but pleasant. When we drove away, my wife and I both were so relieved and happy that they had accepted our gift.
“A few months later our friend Jack got up in testimony meeting and related the following. He said that all his life he had had a hard time paying tithing. With such a large family, they used all the money he made just to get by. When he became ward clerk, he saw all the other people paying tithing and felt he needed to also. He did so for a couple of months, and all was well. Then one month he had a problem. In his job, he completed work and was paid a few months later. He could see that the family was going to be far short of money. He and his wife decided to share the problem with their children. If they paid their tithing, they would run out of food on about the 20th of the month. If they didn’t pay their tithing, they could buy enough food to last until the next paycheck. Jack said he wanted to buy [the] food, but the children said they wanted to pay tithing—so Jack paid the tithing, and they all prayed.
“A few days after paying their tithing, we had shown up with our package of meat for them. With the meat, added to what they had, there was no problem having enough food until the next paycheck.
“There are so many lessons here for me—for instance, always listen to my wife—but for me the most important is that the prayers of people are almost always answered by the actions of others.”

Priscilla’s grandparents lived in a beautiful home in Liverpool, England. Though Priscilla was the fourth of nine children and had many cousins, Grandfather and Grandmother Mitchell made her feel like their favorite person in the entire world. She loved to be in their home, and they were always buying gifts for her.
Then, one day, everything changed. Missionaries from America taught her family the gospel, and her parents were baptized. Priscilla and her brothers and sisters planned to be baptized, too. When Grandfather found out, he was angry.
Priscilla had never known Grandfather to be angry before. It frightened her. He shouted unforgettable, sickening words to Priscilla’s father: “Hezekiah, take your family and leave. Don’t ever come back!”
At home, the stunned family gathered around the fireplace. Father had never looked so sad. Mother hadn’t stopped crying since they had left their grandparents’ home.
Priscilla was confused and heartbroken. “Why don’t Grandmother and Grandfather love us anymore?” she cried.
Father tried to explain. “Grandfather is opposed to our new church. He wants no part of it, and he wants no part of us if we continue with it.” Father stood tall. “But I know that Jesus Christ lives. This is His true Church. He will help us find the way, as long as we do everything we can to be like Him.”
Priscilla’s family tried to be happy, but everything seemed to get worse. Father lost his job as a minister in their former church, so money was scarce even though he taught school. Mother mended clothes instead of replacing them. Priscilla tried not to complain, but life seemed to get harder every day. She longed to visit her grandparents. If she could only talk to them …
A knock sounded at the door. Priscilla’s heart leaped with hope, but it wasn’t her grandparents. Uncle George and Aunt Hannah stood on the porch with gifts and a basket of food. Priscilla was happy to see them, but all too soon she was sent outside so they could talk to her parents. It sounded serious.
“Priscilla,” Aunt Hannah finally called. “How would you like to come live with us?” They had no children and wanted to adopt her, Uncle George explained. There would be plenty of room for her in their mansion, and she could receive better schooling.
“It will leave more of the basics for your brothers and sisters, too,” Aunt Hannah added. Priscilla knew that it was a struggle for her parents to feed and clothe all nine of their children. If she went, it would make things easier for her family.
Father gazed sadly at the floor. Mother sobbed into her handkerchief. The offer was kind, but accepting it would not be easy. Priscilla packed her bags and bid her family farewell.
“This will be your bedroom,” Aunt Hannah said. Priscilla had always shared a room with her four sisters. Now she had a room of her own and a maid to clean it.
Aunt Hannah took her shopping to buy pretty dresses. In no time, the closet was full of them. Her aunt and uncle planned parties so Priscilla could meet new friends. Priscilla had many advantages, but she missed being with her family and listening to Father teach as they sat around the fireplace.
On the morning of her 10th birthday, Priscilla was making dancing dolls out of hollyhock blooms in the garden. She was excited for the party to be held that afternoon, but she wished her sisters could come.
Suddenly, she spotted a tall, thin man coming up the road with a walking stick. Priscilla ran to meet him.
“Happy birthday, Princess Priscilla,” Father said. He swept her into his arms and swung her around.
“Oh, Father, you remembered!” she exclaimed.
Together they walked inside. Father pulled a letter from his pocket. “Priscilla, Uncle George and Aunt Hannah have requested to officially adopt you.” Priscilla knew what that meant—she would inherit great wealth and a respected name. She would never need to worry about money again.
“I have more news,” Father said. “Soon your mother, brothers, sisters, and I are going to America.”
“Will you ever come back?” Priscilla asked.
Father shook his head. “George and Hannah love you. They will take care of you and give you more wealth and opportunities than I can ever offer. On the other hand, life in America with the new church will be difficult and require many sacrifices.” Father looked into his daughter’s eyes. “You must choose for yourself, Priscilla.”
Priscilla didn’t hesitate. She ran to Aunt Hannah and hugged and kissed her. “I love you, Aunt Hannah, and I will always remember you,” she said. “But I know that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is true. I must go to America with my family and be baptized.”
And that is exactly what she did.

Speaking in a BYU devotional, Sister Neill Marriott shared that when she and her siblings were little growing up in Louisiana, their dad regularly promised his kids that if they were ready and waiting for him, he would take them swimming when he got home from work. At 5 p.m. on most summer afternoons, she and her brothers would stand on the hot cement, towels around their necks, looking earnestly down the street. She said, “Even the hot pavement couldn’t break our concentration—though sometimes we would jump back to the cool grass of the front yard for a moment, we would not shift our gaze from the far corner of the street.” When her dad’s car rounded the corner, they would cheer. Jumping up and down. Her dad would get out of the car, pulling his tie off, and say “I’ll be right back.” Soon he returned with his swimming suit and off they went to the pool. “[Now] why did three young kids stay so sharply focused? Why were we so certain we would get to go swimming?” Sister Marriott asked. “Because we knew our father.” [2]

What happens when what we have been imagining actually occurs? Let me tell you about one young man that I know personally who got that kind of attention and made an appropriate response.
Not long ago and not far away a boy entered a pharmacist’s shop, told the proprietor that he was Bob Brown, son of Mrs. Helen Brown, and inquired if there was any possibility for him to work at the pharmacy to pay for medicine which the store owner had supplied the family but for which he had not yet been paid. Mr. Jones didn’t really need any additional help, but he was so impressed by the unusual conscientiousness of this seventeen-year-old high school boy that he made arrangements for Bob to work at the store part time on Saturdays.
That first day of diligent work greatly impressed the businessman, who at the completion of it handed the young man an envelope containing twelve dollars—the agreed-upon wages. The boy took two one-dollar bills from the envelope and asked Mr. Jones to give him change for one of them. Bob put the other dollar bill and twenty cents in his pocket, deposited the eighty cents change in the envelope with the ten-dollar bill, and handed that money to Mr. Jones to apply to the family account, asking if that division of wages was agreeable to the pharmacist. Well, Mr. Jones tried to insist that Bob keep a larger portion of the money. “You’ll need some money for school,” he said, “and besides, I’ve already decided to increase your pay in the future. Why don’t you keep at least half of the twelve dollars?”
“No, sir,” said the seventeen-year-old. “Maybe later I could keep a little more, but today I would like to pay the ten dollars and eighty cents on our bill.”
At that moment some of Bob’s friends came by and asked him to attend a movie with them. He said he couldn’t, that he had to go home. They continued to tease him to go with them until finally he informed them firmly that he didn’t have any money and couldn’t go with them. Mr. Jones, observing all of this, was about to intervene again to offer money to Bob when one of the boys who had playfully jostled him heard the twenty cents rattle in Bob’s pocket. The bantering began again, because obviously he did have some money. Quietly Bob finally said, “Look, guys, I do have a little money but it isn’t mine; it’s my tithing. Now take off, will you please. I need to get home to see how Mom’s doing.”
When Bob and the others had left the store, Mr. Jones went to the telephone and called a physician friend. “Doctor,” he said, “I have been filling your prescriptions for years and have long admired your reputation as a fine surgeon. I’ve also known you are a Mormon bishop, but I have never had any interest in your religion. But I now have one of your boys working for me who is so different that I need to learn about a religion that can produce a young man like that.”
Arrangements were made, and the pebble dropped into the life of Mr. Jones by Bob Brown began the extending circles that to this point have gently washed the druggist and members of his family and many others into a warm, loving life as fellow citizens with the Saints in the household of God.
Somehow early in his life Bob has mastered principles and developed character that set him apart from most others. He is a regular boy in every choice sense of the description. Can anyone doubt that he will be an equally fine man, a good husband, a regular dad, a concerned leader who will help many others?

The game was going great until Brian, the shortstop, sprained a finger while fielding a line drive.
“José, you’re in.” Coach yelled as he raced out onto the field.
José grabbed his glove and jumped off the bench. I’ve never played shortstop, he thought. I hope I do OK.
The next batter hit a hot grounder to José’s right. As he reached for the ball, it took a squirrelly hop up in the air. He made a stab at it but only managed to keep the ball in the infield. “Sorry, guys,” he yelled to his teammates as the runners pulled up at first and second.
“Good stop,” Matthew called from the pitcher’s mound.
José shrugged. “That should have been the last out,” he mumbled. “Brian would have made it easy.”
The next batter struck out, and the game was over. The Asteroids had won 3–2.
“Way to go, team,” Coach praised them in the dugout. “Only one game left in the season. We may not be number one, but this is the best year we’ve ever had. I’m really proud of you guys.”
Everyone whooped and whistled and high-fived each other.
Coach continued, “I’m handing out the ballots for you to vote on player awards. Remember, these are secret ballots. The awards will be given out next Saturday night at the banquet. And I hope you’ll all be back to play next year.”
He doesn’t mean me, José thought. Who needs a bench warmer! He glanced down at the voting form. Most improved player. Easy. James. He was the best first baseman in the whole league.
Best athlete. Cinch. Matthew, the pitcher. Not only was he the fastest runner on the team, he had an arm that rivaled the best professional pitcher’s.
Most valuable player. It had to be Brian, the shortstop. He was an awesome all-around player. He could field, run, and smack a homer over the center field fence.
On the way out, Coach stopped him. “José,” he said, “Mitchell has a dentist’s appointment next Saturday. Would you fill in at catcher?”
José shrugged. “Sure, Coach.”
“I knew that I could count on you.” Coach squeezed his shoulder.
José kicked his bat up over his shoulder. Don’t count on much, he thought. I’m not the greatest catcher in the world, either. I bet I’ve filled in at every position on the field, but I’m not great at any of them. That’s why I’ve never had a permanent position—besides bench warmer.
The Asteroids won their final game in a squeaker. José overthrew second base once, allowing a steal, and he dropped a few pitches. Otherwise, he played a good game. Not great, just good enough.
“Way to go, José!” Matthew said, high-fiving him at the plate. “See you tonight at the banquet.”
“The banquet?” He had tried to forget it. He’d probably be the only guy there who didn’t win an award of some sort. “Uh, I don’t think I can make it. Mom and Dad won’t be home tonight, and I don’t have a ride.”
Matthew’s eyes grew wide. “Are you kidding? You’re not coming?”
“Sorry. I’d like to. I want to see you win Best Athlete and all—”
“Hey, Coach,” Matthew yelled at the departing coach, cutting José off. “I’ll see you around, José.” He punched him in the arm and sprinted off.
That evening, while José was lying on his bed, tossing his baseball in the air, his big sister pounded on the door. “Hey, little bro—you have company.”
“Company?” He rolled off the bed and opened the door. “Coach! What are you doing here?”
“Come on, José. If you don’t hustle, we’re going to be late for the banquet. Matthew told me that you needed a ride.”
José gulped. I shouldn’t have told Matthew I needed a ride, he thought. He pulled on his baseball cap and hurried out.
Soon the boys were all stuffed with the good banquet food. Even so, they were on the edges of their chairs, eagerly awaiting the announcement of the awards. Before long, only the three trophy awards were left.
José looked around the room. Sure enough, almost everyone else on the team had received at least a certificate.
“Most improved player,” Coach announced from the lectern up front, “James Carelli.”
Everyone in the room applauded. José slapped James’s palm as the tall first baseman went to accept his trophy. José was glad he’d come, after all, to see his friends win their awards.
“Best athlete, Matthew Beckman.” The team cheered again. José whistled through his fingers as Matthew sprinted for the front.
“And now for our most valuable player.” Coach bent down and lifted the trophy over his head. Everyone oohed and aahed.
“This special award goes to the person who made the biggest contribution to our team. A player who could always be counted on to perform his best, especially in a pinch. As a coach, I don’t know what I would have done without him this season. We might have had to forfeit games if he hadn’t always been there. Except for the winner’s own vote, it was unanimous. Most valuable player for the Asteroids is José Valdez.”
The room went wild. All the players rushed over to slap José on the back.
He was so stunned that he couldn’t get out of his seat.
“C’mon, José,” Matthew said. “Stop warming the bench and go get your trophy.” Everyone laughed. Then the whole team escorted him up to the front.
MVP. José traced the engraved letters on the trophy that lay beside his pillow that night. He smiled, remembering Coach’s words on the way home: “José, I sure hope you’ll be our bench warmer again next year. We need you!”
José hugged the trophy close. In the dark he whispered his answer: “You can count on me, Coach.”