Gospel Story Finder

I remember the time as a student, when I worked for three days and nights with no sleep on a computer programming assignment for my Computer Graphics class. I was exhausted and yet I completed and turned in the project on time. I contrast that with the time when I worked in a hospital when our system was down and it took me three days and nights with no sleep to get the system back up and running. Both were challenging and required about the same amount of time and effort from me. However, of the latter, there was much more at stake with many individuals involved and especially the quality and lives of patient care. I was the one programmer that knew how to troubleshoot and find the problem to get the system back up, and all eyes and hopes were on me.

After my graduate work, I taught at Penn State University in Pennsylvania while my husband was finishing his degree. I had just been offered a new job to teach theatre at BYU–Hawai’i. I was full of uneasy feelings at how we would be able to live with a large family in Hawai’i. I told my Heavenly Father that I couldn’t see how this would work in pleading prayer. How could we move with so much uncertainty? At that moment, I was given a vision.

The heavens opened up, and my spiritual eyes saw a path five years down the line from that moment. I could see all the uncertainty being fixed. I saw what could happen with theatre at BYU–Hawai’i. It immediately went into my testimony box; I saw something that I couldn’t deny. As Joseph Smith said, “I knew it, and I knew that God knew it, and I could not deny it….” 1 Later after I had been teaching here for a while, I was meeting with John Bell, our prior Vice President over Academics. I shared this vision with him. He said, tears in his eyes; I have had that vision. He and I had both seen the future. We had been brought together through the Spirit’s testifying witness of truth.

A missionary told of hearing the gospel in France. The missionaries were not fluent in his language, but he knew that what they were telling him was important, so he studied English in order to understand them. After hearing the discussions, he had difficulty breaking some habits. The missionaries told him to ask the Lord for help. One night he was having extreme difficulty and, remembering their advice, went to his bedroom to pray for help. An hour or two went by and he heard a knock at his door. The missionaries were standing there, drenched from walking three miles in a vigorous rainstorm. “Why are you here?” he asked them. “We were asleep,” they said, “and woke up feeling you needed us.” He paused at this point in his talk and looked out over the audience as if looking for someone. Then he said, in a voice trembling with love and gratitude, “I want you to meet my missionaries.” They both lived near the Provo area, and he had asked them to come hear him speak at our meeting. He spoke of his mission as a privilege.

“Your turn!” Monica said to Kami.
Kami listened to the beat of the ropes hitting the pavement.
“One, two, one, two, annnnd jump!”
Kami leaped between the ropes, raising one foot and then the other. Double Dutch was one of her favorite things to do during recess.
“Hey, Kami!”
Kami turned around to see her friend, Chelsea, waving her over.
“Hey! I was wondering where you were,” Kami said with a grin. But her smile faded when she saw Chelsea’s face. Her friend looked sad.
“Can you come here really quick?”
“Yeah! What’s wrong?” Kami asked, jogging over.
Chelsea took a deep breath and stared at her shoes. “I just wanted to let you know I can’t come over after school today. My mom said we can’t spend so much time together.”
“What? Why?”
“Um … ’cause you’re Mormon.”
Kami felt her mouth fall open. She didn’t know what to say. Chelsea had been coming over to Kami’s house a lot lately to work on school projects.
“My mom’s worried I might learn some things from you that our family doesn’t agree with,” Chelsea said.
Kami felt like she was frozen in place.
“I guess I’d better go,” Chelsea said and walked away.
Kami sat down and picked at the grass for the rest of recess. When she got home, she told Mom what happened.
“Is there something wrong with being Mormon?” Kami asked.
Mom paused for a minute. “Do you think there’s something wrong with being Mormon?”
Kami thought about it. “No. I mean, we believe in following Jesus and helping others. How can Chelsea’s parents not like that?”
“Well, I think sometimes people don’t understand what we believe,” Mom said. “They don’t know what it means to be a member of the Church.”
What does it mean to be a member of the Church? Kami thought as she drifted off to sleep that night.
The next day was a field trip, and her whole class was excited as they stood in line in front of the bus.
Kami groaned when she heard the seating assignments. She wanted to sit by Monica, and instead she had to sit by her teacher in the front seat! But soon Mrs. Weir started talking to her, and Kami’s bad mood didn’t last long.
“I’ve noticed that many of the children in my classes who are Mormon are good students,” Mrs. Weir said. Kami blinked in surprise. She had expected her teacher to talk about school stuff, not this. “Will you tell me a little about your religion?”
Kami told Mrs. Weir the full name of the Church. She told her about when she was baptized and about going to Primary. Mrs. Weir had a few questions about what Kami could eat and drink and what she believed about God. Kami did her best to answer. She even remembered some lines from the article of faith she was memorizing.
Later that afternoon Kami ran through her front door, excited to tell Mom all about the conversation.
Part of being a member means being kind to everyone. No matter what they believe!
“I’m proud of you, Kami!” Mom said. “And guess what? By being a good example, you’re helping Mrs. Weir learn something really important. Do you know what?”
Kami smiled and nodded. Chelsea’s mom didn’t know it yet, but Kami’s teacher was noticing.
“I’m teaching her what it means to be a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints!”

My falling away from the Church was gradual. It began in the fifth grade, when I met some new friends. We used bad language and got into all the wrong things. Once junior high came around, we entered into all the wrong groups, and by high school, things started to get really bad.
I became really depressed. I was wearing more and more black and kept insisting on thickly layering dark eye makeup. To me, life became something just to get through and not to enjoy. My thoughts were often suicidal, and I had no confidence. I almost completely shelled up. I never really talked to anyone, never told people what was going on. I knew I was loved, but I just didn’t care.
I almost completely fell away from the Church. I say almost because I was never allowed to skip church, and my parents always expected me to take seminary during high school. But I wanted nothing more to do with the gospel or the LDS Church.
My family and loved ones saw this downward spiral, and they tried to help. I often spent time on Sundays in the bishop’s office, and just as many days trying to avoid the bishop. He showed a lot of support and interest in me, looking into the things I believed in so that he could better understand me. My parents kept trying to help, but they didn’t know what to do. There were times when my dad and I were near tears trying to talk about our differences.
During my sophomore year, I hit a turning point when a foreign exchange student from Japan came to live with us. She was a softball player, and she convinced me to play that year. That experience alone did a great deal of good for me. The coach helped me raise my self-esteem, and the experience of belonging to and working on a team gave me the blessed feeling of belonging somewhere.
That summer I went to Japan to stay with the family of our foreign exchange student for five weeks. During my stay, I went four weeks without going to church. Finally, in the very last week, we stopped by the Tokyo Japan Temple to take pictures. In a strange country where the language and customs were so foreign to me, it was the most comforting feeling to finally be in a familiar place. The Spirit there was so strong.
That Sunday we found a ward building, and I attended church. It was amazing to experience sacrament meeting and Sunday School in Japanese, but what hit me most was when I went to Young Women. Seeing those few Japanese girls rise and say the theme, I realized that the gospel was just as strong halfway across the world as it was at home. I knew that many of these members didn’t have the support from friends and family that I did, but they still believed. Again, I felt at home.
Shortly after I returned to Utah, my brother Richard came home from his mission. Rich noticed my struggles and made it apparent that we would be having a lot of talks. He got me to pray with him.
But what really hit home was seminary. My dad found out I wasn’t enrolled for my junior year and was surprised. It wasn’t long before I was called to meet with the seminary principal. It was very nonconfrontational; he just talked to me, conveyed friendship, and expressed concern that I wasn’t enrolled. Finally I agreed to take seminary. I met my teacher, went to class, and that was it. I never skipped and rarely begrudged going.
I’m not sure when the transition took place, but I started to feel comfort. I began to pray regularly again. It was really hard at first, but I stuck with it. I read my scriptures and knew that they spoke truth. Life began to look up. I had more energy, confidence, and ambition. I felt better about the new friends I began associating with. I tried out for plays, immersed myself in my artwork, and started singing again. I tried out for my school’s select choir group and made it. I was no longer the shy, introverted girl I had been for so long.
I was also called to serve on the seminary council, and that was when I knew that I would be okay. If someone had told me a year ago that I would be where I am now, I never would have believed it could happen. I’m a completely different person. And I’m grateful to my friends, family, and teachers, who gave me their love and patience. Their faith in me was the constant in my life that I could always fall back on in my darkest hours. And now I’m so grateful for the gospel. I feel it really has saved my life. If I hadn’t made the turnaround when I did, who knows how far off the path I would have gone. I’m grateful I’ve never had to find out.
The Church is true; I know that with all of my heart and mind. Heavenly Father loves His children, and Jesus Christ is our Savior. Having the restored gospel on earth is one of our greatest blessings, and I pray that someday all of God’s children will come to know the truth and feel the same gratitude and love for Him that I have in my heart.

Claire’s friends were here. She grabbed her in-line skates from the shelf in the hallway.
“Bye, Mom!” she called to her mother, who was sewing in the other room.
“Bye, Claire! I know you’ll be good and have a good time, too!”
Mom always said that same thing whenever Claire went off with her friends. She was eleven, about to turn twelve. A few weeks back, Claire, Jessica, Amanda, and Whitney had decided to skate once a week at the Recreation Center downtown. After school on Fridays was Claire’s favorite time of the whole week. And today she even had a cute new outfit on—a red plaid button shirt over a cream tank top.
At the Center, Claire sat by Jessica as they put on their skates. “Let’s try the jump today,” she said.
“And let’s work on our turns,” Jessica said. “Everybody ready?”
The girls hopped off the wooden bench and sailed onto the floor. Claire threw out her arms and caught her balance, teetering around like a listing sailboat. Halfway around the room, she felt suddenly at ease, her feet relaxing inside her skates, her body gliding effortlessly along the glistening sea of wooden floor as if pushed by a wind.
“Hey, Claire, that’s a cute shirt,” said Jessica. “Is it new?”
“Do you really like it? My mom found it on sale.”
It wasn’t long before the girls were ready for the jump. A wooden ramp was set up in the middle of the skating rink, reminding Claire of an ocean wave. The four girls lined up behind her and sped around the rink, building up speed for the jump. Claire hit the ramp and for a split second floated on air a few inches above the floor. “Whee!” The others followed with squeals of delight.
After several jumps, Claire wiped her forehead. “I’m hot. Let’s work on our turns, Jessica.”
The two friends went over to a quiet corner of the rink. Full 360° turns required patience and a lot of slow practice.
“I did it!” Jessica exulted. “Now you.”
Claire took one glide forward and twisted her body, her skates making a half circle. Around she went in a shaky, slow-motion twirl. “I did it, too! But it needs work.”
“You get better every time,” Jessica called over her shoulder, in the middle of another turn. “Is that a tank top you’re wearing underneath your new shirt? Is it new, too?”
“Yes, I got it just to wear under my shirts. I think the layers look cool.”
“They look cool, but it’s hot skating and you’re wearing two shirts,” Jessica pointed out, skating around Claire. “Why don’t you take off your shirt and skate in your tank top?”
Claire finished a turn and looked straight at Jessica. “I promised my mom—” She stopped when she noticed that Jessica had taken off her sweater and was skating in a thin-strapped tank top herself. Her bare arms and shoulders looked cool. Still, she remembered her mother’s words as she left the house. “I know you’ll be good and have a good time, too.” Claire also remembered what her mother was sewing—a prom dress for Claire’s big sister because there weren’t any modest ones in the stores.
“Come on, Claire,” said Jessica. “Look at Whitney and Amanda. They’re wearing tank tops, too.”
Claire braked and stood up straight. “I promised my mom I would only wear the tank top if I wore it under other shirts. Besides I like my outfit just like this. Let’s do some more jumps.”
Jessica shrugged. Claire led the way, sailing around the rink, building up speed for the jump. She hit the wave and flew, her new red plaid shirttails flapping in the breeze.
Be Clean.How truly beautiful is a well-groomed young woman who is clean in body and mind. She is a daughter of God in whom her Eternal Father can take pride.President Gordon B. Hinckley(Friend, Feb. 2001, page 25.)

Mary had been a member of the Church for two years and was just starting to fill in her family tree. Her ward family history consultant helped her find ancestors the first few times she went to the temple. The next time she planned to attend the temple, she wanted to do some initiatory work and decided to see if she could obtain an ordinance card on her own.

Following the steps for Ordinances Ready outlined below, Mary logged on to the Family Tree mobile app to quickly find an ancestor who needed initiatory work, but she didn’t have a printer available. She saved the card to her cell phone photos, and a temple worker printed the card for her when she arrived.

John’s family had been a part of the Church for many generations. He wanted to go to the temple on behalf of a family member but assumed there wouldn’t be any persons with work left to do since his family had been active in temple work for such a long time. His ward family history consultant invited him to give Ordinances Ready a try.
John followed the steps, selecting the ordinance he wanted to perform. He was surprised and excited to see Ordinances Ready find a person—a fifth cousin, twice removed. He printed the card on his home computer and took it with him to the temple. With a special joy in his heart, John was able to perform the ordinance for a family member.

I have always believed in the power of prayer. When my family first moved to a new city, I had to wait to start school for two months until a new semester began. Although I enjoyed spending time with my family, I wanted a good friend with the same beliefs I have. I eventually met all of my neighbors, and although some were the same age, they didn’t have the same standards. When I was able to go to school, I met a lot of kids my age and made some friends.
One time I went out for dinner with friends. After dinner some of them left, but the rest still wanted to do something and decided they wanted to go drink. They invited me, but I told them no. I felt even more lonesome. I went home that night and prayed to find a good friend.
A few weeks later I went out to dinner with friends again and made it clear that I wouldn’t drink with them. After dinner all but one other person left to go drinking. We started to talk and found that we had the same standards—standards we kept by personal choice. I know that Heavenly Father always answers prayers.

I know another good man who was reared in a family without the blessings of the gospel. Through a series of unfortunate events in his early youth, he was introduced to homosexuality, and gradually he became a prisoner of this addictive behavior.
One day two young missionaries knocked on his door and asked if he would be interested in learning of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. In his heart of hearts he wanted to be freed from his prison of uncleanness, but feeling unable to change the direction his life had taken, he terminated the missionary discussions. Before leaving his apartment, the two elders left a copy of the Book of Mormon with him, and testified of its truthfulness.
My friend placed the book on his bookshelf and forgot about it for several years. He continued acting out his homosexual tendencies, assuming that such relationships would bring him happiness. But alas, with each passing year, his misery increased.
One day in the depths of despair, he scanned his bookshelf for something to read which might edify and uplift him and restore his self-worth. His eye caught hold of the book with a dark blue cover, which the missionaries had given him several years before. He began to read. On the second page of this book, he read of Father Lehi’s vision in which he was given a book to read, and “as he read, he was filled with the Spirit of the Lord” (1 Ne. 1:12). And as my good friend continued reading, he too was filled with the Spirit of the Lord.
He read King Benjamin’s benedictory challenge to undergo a mighty change of heart—not a little change, but a mighty change. He was given hope by the comforting conversion stories of Enos, Alma, Ammon, and Aaron. He was also inspired by the account of the Savior’s visit to the ancient Nephites. By the time he reached the final page of the Book of Mormon, he was prepared to accept Moroni’s loving invitation to “come unto Christ, and be perfected in him, and deny yourselves of all ungodliness” (Moro. 10:32).
My friend contacted the Church and was taught the gospel and was baptized. Within a relatively short time, he married a lovely young woman, and they are the parents of several beautiful children. He and his wife are very dynamic and committed servants of the Lord, influencing many others for good.

I have just finished reading “Taking upon Us His Name” in the April 1982 New Era. It is exactly the article I needed to read at this time. Thank you!
My only daughter, Audrey, and I were both baptized in 1976. She was 15 at the time. She went on to Ricks College, where she met her husband. They were married in the Idaho Falls Temple in December of 1980, and they are expecting their first child in late June. I’m so very happy for them.
On the other hand, since Audrey is gone, I’m all alone in the Church. I have gone to church alone and prayed alone. My spirituality has slowly dwindled away. It’s not much fun when an individual doesn’t have anyone in the family to communicate with on a spiritual level. I have prayed for my spirituality to come back. This article by Sister Ardeth Kapp has increased my testimony quite a bit.
How frail our mortal testimony can be when we are not encouraged by others, be it family or friends. I realized while reading that article that I don’t really need outside help. What matters most is what I feel deep in my heart. All I need is to know that our Heavenly Father loves me unconditionally.
I will continue to pray that other members of my family will be touched by the Holy Spirit as Audrey and I were. I pray that they will someday soon know all about the only true Church here on the earth. I read the New Era from cover to cover every time it comes.
Marina DouganCalgary, Alberta, Canada

Margaret could feel her face getting red as the math teacher wrote the grades on the blackboard. Twenty scores had already been posted and hers was still lower. He kept on writing—forty-one, thirty-nine, and thirty-eight.
No one knew that she was the one who had a score of thirty-nine, but to be next to last was embarrassing just the same. Margaret closed her eyes and wished she were far away.
Just then the bell rang and class was over. Margaret gathered up her books and started home. But instead of going straight home to her house she stopped by Mr. Tucker’s yard where he was carefully turning over the garden with a shovel.
“Well, if it isn’t Meg!” he called. Just those few words from Mr. Tucker made Margaret feel better.
“Hi, Mr. Tucker! It’s such a nice spring day that I knew you’d be out here.”
“You know me pretty well, don’t you? Put your books down and visit awhile.”
Margaret watched the dry brown earth become a rich black as the shovelfuls were turned over.
“How was school today?” Mr. Tucker asked as he wiped his sweaty forehead with a handkerchief.
“All right, I guess. Anyway, it’s almost over for the year.”
“How are you doing in English?”
“Good,” Margaret answered.
“And you’re still doing well in science and art?”
“Yes.”
“Then I guess the long face is for math.”
“That’s right,” Margaret answered, disgustedly. “As a matter of fact my score was next to the lowest in class today.”
“I’m sorry,” Mr. Tucker said, stopping his work for a few minutes to talk about Margaret’s problem.
“I don’t know what to do,” she said. “Numbers just don’t make much sense to me. I’m afraid I’ll never understand them.”
“Well, now, I know you pretty well, Meg,” Mr. Tucker told her. “You’ve always done well in school. Most things seem to come easy for you, and so I know you’re going to be able to lick your problem with math.”
Margaret watched the soil as Mr. Tucker went back to turning it over. “You’ve come across something that isn’t easy, Meg,” he continued. “But now you’ve found a challenge, it can be pretty exciting to meet it head-on and prove you can master it.”
“I never thought of it that way,” Meg said. “Instead, I’ve just become upset until I sometimes feel as though I just hate it, especially since I’ll probably have to go to summer school if my grades don’t get any better.”
“Would that be so bad, summer school I mean?” asked Mr. Tucker. “Seems to me that might be a pretty good place to put in some hours. We didn’t have anything like that when I was a boy.”
“Well,” Meg replied. “Summer school is great if you can take the things you want. I guess the trouble is that I don’t like math any time of the year.”
“Math’s important, Meg.”
“I know. That’s what Mom says, but I guess I haven’t learned to like it yet.”
Mr. Tucker turned the last of the dry, brittle earth into crumbly black soil. “There, now I can get to planting.” He wore a twinkly kind of smile that Margaret had often seen, but only when he was working in the garden. She’d wondered about that certain smile but had never found a good answer for it.
The next week school ended and Margaret had only one week of vacation before summer school. Every day she walked down to watch Mr. Tucker weed and water his tomatoes and corn and peas. She watched his gray head bent over a tomato plant, searching for new weeds. And she wondered why he bothered with such a little garden.
“It’s not much of a garden this year,” Mr. Tucker admitted, reading her thoughts one day. “I used to plant this whole backyard.”
“Why do you work so hard anyway?” Margaret asked. “You usually give most of the vegetables away.”
Mr. Tucker had that same twinkly smile on his face as he answered. “It’s nice to be needed. And some folks depend on my vegetables, just like I’m depending on you to learn to like math.”
“I’ll try,” Margaret promised. And math lesson by math lesson the first week slowly passed. Summer school wasn’t half as unpleasant as she had anticipated.
She studied hard but on the first test she only scored fifty-eight.
“I’m afraid I can’t make a better grade,” Margaret told Mr. Tucker, showing him her red-checked paper.
“Yes you can!”
“I tried so hard. And look!”
“But you’ve only been going a week,” Mr. Tucker reminded her. “You’ll probably score in the sixties next week.”
And so before each test during the summer Margaret worked and studied a little harder. Slowly her scores began getting better and Mr. Tucker’s tomatoes grew bigger and riper.
“The day my first tomato is ready to pick you’ll get a hundred on your math,” he predicted.
Margaret laughed. “I’m working at it,” she said.
“And working isn’t so bad, is it? Still hate math?”
“Only a little,” Margaret answered, and the answer surprised even her.
“That’s my Meg!”
The next Monday when the math teacher wrote the scores on the board, there was only one hundred—Margaret’s. She had worked very hard all summer and was so pleased with the results that she smiled all the way to Mr. Tucker’s.
“Guess what?” she shouted.
“You got a hundred,” Mr. Tucker said matter-of-factly.
“How did you know?”
Mr Tucker held up a bright red tomato. “Easy,” he said, “my first tomato is ripe.” Then they both laughed.
“Here, this one is yours,” he said. “It’ll make a great sandwich for lunch.”
Margaret noticed his twinkly smile again as he put the tomato in her hands. Now she understood about the smile and without even a mirror, she knew she wore the very same kind of smile. Suddenly she realized that the “something” that Mr. Tucker was smiling about was the feeling that comes when a person has a feeling of accomplishment.
“Thank you,” she said, “and if this tomato tastes as good as the feeling of finally earning a hundred in math, it’ll be a great sandwich. You know,” Margaret added, “it’s almost like magic what a little work can do.”
Mr. Tucker nodded in agreement. “There’s not really much magic in this old world,” he said. “But it’s a great feeling when you’re a part of making something almost magical happen.”

My sister Melanie was supposed to be baby-sitting Cami and me while Mom and Dad were attending a funeral. Before they left, Melanie said that she would help us make a batch of chocolate chip cookies. Then, as soon as Mom and Dad had gone, she turned on the stereo and the TV, snatched a bag of chips, dropped onto the sofa, grabbed the phone, and called her friend Kendra.
Cami and I sat around the kitchen table, waiting for Melanie to come help us with the cookies. But every time Cami or I asked her when she was going to help us, she waved us away and hissed, “Just a minute! Quit bugging me! I have to tell Kendra one more thing.”
“Let’s forget the cookies,” I finally sighed, “and go down by the creek and find something to do.”
“What’s there to do down there?” Cami mumbled disappointedly. “The creek’s not deep enough to swim in.”
“We can wade in it, or maybe we can fish,” I suggested.
“There aren’t any fish in the creek, just a few old frogs.”
“Oh, well,” I sighed. “Let’s just sit here and wait for Melanie.”
Cami glanced in at Melanie and wrinkled her nose. Finally she muttered, “Catching frogs has to be better than listening to Melanie gab.”
“Then let’s go!”
Cami and I jumped up, ran out the door, cut down the dirt lane under the elm trees, and waded through Dad’s alfalfa field to the creek. I was just ready to kick off my shoes, when Cami screamed, jumped back, and scrambled up the bank.
“What’s the matter?”
Cami was on the bank with her mouth and eyes wide open. She was pointing down toward the creek. “A snake!” she blurted out.
I looked around, and sure enough, right by the edge of the creek, lying on a big flat rock, was the biggest, yellow-striped snake I’d ever seen. “Wow!” I gasped, kneeling down beside the snake. “Isn’t he neat?” I reached down and grabbed the snake behind the head and picked it up.
“Krista!” Cami screamed. “Put that awful thing down.”
I held the snake up, and it wrapped its thick body around my arm. Its black, forked tongue flashed out of its mouth. I giggled and charged up the bank toward Cami. She backed up and screamed, “Krista, don’t you dare come near me with that awful thing!”
“It’s just an old water snake. He won’t hurt you. Dad said that there aren’t any dangerous snakes around here. I think that snakes are kind of fun. They wrap around your arm and stick their tongue out at you.” I held my arm up so that Cami could see the snake better.
Cami frowned. “Girls don’t play with snakes.”
“I’m a girl, and I play with snakes.” I grinned. “I’d rather play with snakes than listen to Melanie gab on the phone or hear her old screaming music.” I laughed. “He won’t hurt you,” I repeated. “Touch him.” I held the snake toward her.
Slowly Cami reached a shaky finger out and touched the snake’s cool body. She jumped back, but a grin pulled at her mouth. “It’s creepy,” she whispered, touching the snake again. Soon she was stroking it softly with her finger.
“Do you want to hold him?”
Cami didn’t say yes, but she didn’t say no either.
“Just grab him behind the head,” I coached.
Soon Cami had the snake wrapped around her arm, while she stroked it with her free hand. She giggled. “He feels weird,” she said. “We ought to name him something.”
“How about Joe?”
“Snakes aren’t Joes.”
“Jack?”
Cami shook her head.
“Jake?” I suggested next.
Cami smiled. “Yeah. We’ll call him Jake. Jake the Snake.”
“What’re we going to do with him?” I asked.
Cami said, “He’s too big for a bottle, and he couldn’t look out through a can. Since he’s a water snake, let’s put him in the bathtub.”
I hesitated. “I don’t know if Mom will like Jake bathing in our tub.”
But Cami wasn’t listening to me. She had already started for the house with Jake. I shrugged and followed her.
When we went into the house with Jake, Melanie was lying on the floor with her feet propped up on the sofa and her hand in the chips. She didn’t even know we’d been gone. We went right to the bathroom and put Jake into the tub.
“How much water shall we put in the tub?” Cami asked.
“Let’s fill it clear up,” I said, turning on the tap. “Jake’s pretty big, and he’s going to have all the water that he wants.”
“This’s better than that old creek any day. This is clean water, and it’s nice and cool in here.”
“You know what,” I said. “Jake looks lonely.”
“Yeah, he needs a friend,” Cami agreed.
“There are lots more snakes where Jake came from, I’ll bet,” I said.
Leaving Jake in the tub, Cami and I headed back to the creek. This time we had one of Mom’s plastic mop buckets so that we could bring a friend or two for Jake.
We soon discovered lots of snakes sunning themselves on the rocks. There were yellow-striped ones and red-striped ones. At first Cami made me do the grabbing. Then she saw a tiny one. I already had one in each hand, so Cami, not wanting the little one to get away, set the bucket down and grabbed it herself.
“How many do we have?” Cami asked later, looking at the tangled mass of squirming bodies in the bottom of the bucket. “It looks like a million of them.”
“We can count them as we put them into the tub with Jake,” I suggested.
Once more we headed for the house. The music was still going, and Melanie was still laughing and talking. We hurried to the bathroom and set the bucket down.
“Jake’s gone!” Cami gasped, looking into the tub.
“I guess we put too much water in. He must have crawled right out.” I peeked out at Melanie. “We’ve got to find him fast!”
We looked behind the clothes hamper and under the sink, but we couldn’t see Jake anywhere. We went out into the hall and started looking under the chairs and behind the furniture.
“What are you guys doing?” Melanie scolded, covering the phone with her hand and glaring at us. “You’re not into anything, are you?” When we shook our heads, she grumbled, “Well, don’t. I’m almost through here, and then I’ll be out to help you with the cookies.”
“We lost Jake,” Cami announced.
“Jake?” Melanie asked, still scowling. “Who’s Jake?”
I swallowed hard. “He’s our friend.”
“Krista, you know you aren’t supposed to have friends over while Mom and Dad are gone. You tell him to leave right now.”
“We can’t,” Cami explained. “We can’t find him. Have you seen him?”
Melanie shook her head. “Maybe he already went home. You two just run into the kitchen. I’ll be there in a second.”
“But what about Jake?” I protested.
“Forget about Jake. He found his way here. He can find his way home.”
Cami and I shrugged and went to the kitchen and sat down. We didn’t sit there long, though. Not two minutes later we heard a shriek. We jumped up and rushed into the living room.
Melanie was standing on the sofa, screaming and shaking. On the floor near where Melanie had been lying was Jake the Snake. He was curled up into a little stack and was being as peaceful as could be.
“Jake!” Cami squealed happily. “Thanks, Melanie. You found him for us.”
“Jake?” Melanie screeched. “That’s Jake?”
“Sure,” Cami said, scooping Jake up and holding him out to Melanie. “He’s cute, isn’t he? Do you want to hold him?”
“Get that awful, horrible thing away from me,” Melanie cried. She backed into the arm of the sofa, lost her balance, and fell. As soon as she hit the floor, she scrambled to her feet and ran as fast as she could to the bathroom. She slammed the door behind her, and we heard the lock snap into place.
“Are you OK, Melanie?” I asked.
“Krista,” Melanie howled from behind the door, “you get that awful thing out of this house!”
“But Jake’s our friend,” Cami protested before I could even open my mouth.
“Krista, I’m warning—”
Before Melanie could finish what she was saying, we heard her bump into Mom’s plastic mop bucket. Then there was another scream, more horrible than the others. We heard Melanie jerk on the door, forgetting that it was locked. Finally the door flew open, and Melanie came charging out of the bathroom, still screaming.
Cami was right by the door with Jake, and Melanie ran into her. Both Melanie and Cami fell down, and Jake got knocked right into Melanie’s lap. Melanie just sat there shaking and watching Jake crawl on her and stick his black tongue in and out.
Suddenly Cami sang out, “Look! Jake’s friends are getting away!”
Melanie had knocked the bucket over, and all our snakes were slithering out of the bathroom. Well, I had picked Jake up by then, but when I saw all the other snakes getting away, I handed Jake to Melanie, and Cami and I went after the other snakes. Pretty soon our hands were full of snakes, and we were putting them into the bucket as fast as we could. Melanie wasn’t much help, though. She didn’t even keep Jake for us. She dropped him on the floor.
“Well, that looks like all of them,” I said when I finally found Jake behind the magazine rack.
“You mean you’re not sure?” Melanie gasped. Her face was white, and she was standing on a chair, still shaking. “Do you mean that there might be more creeping around?”
I shrugged. “There could be. We didn’t have time to count them before.”
“Don’t you have anything better to do than go around catching awful creatures like that?”
“You didn’t help us make cookies,” Cami said, “and we had to do something.”
“I’ll help you make cookies right now!” Melanie cried. “Just get those things out of here. And don’t ever bring them back.”
Cami picked up the bucket, and we started for the door. “We want chocolate chip cookies,” I called over my shoulder.
“Anything! Now, get out of here with those snakes.”
Just then the phone rang. I answered it because Melanie wouldn’t get off the chair until we took Jake and his friends outside.
“It’s Kendra,” I said, holding the phone out to Melanie. She looked at the phone, then at the bucket of snakes, then at Cami and me. She jumped down from the chair, went into the kitchen, and said, “Tell her I’m busy making chocolate chip cookies.”
I grinned at Cami, Cami grinned at me, and we both grinned at Jake and his friends as we headed for the creek.

Before 1961, missionary conferences were sometimes held in West Berlin, and missionaries and members from the German Democratic Republic could occasionally bring back lesson manuals in their luggage. Although not officially approved by the government, these were not always officially denied at the border crossings. Local Saints then typed the lesson manual information, making many carbon copies, until there were enough copies for each of the branches. After 1961, even this contact with official Church literature became more and more restricted. Brother Joachim Albrecht in Bautzen told this story:
“We received a directive from President Burckhardt that all unauthorized religious materials, books, manuals, etc., were to be destroyed. I was heartbroken. I had, over the years, scraped together a small but nice library of Church materials, for which I had no official authorization. I sat in front of an open fireplace. No, I said to myself. I can’t do it. But in the end, I burned all of the books and manuals I had collected with such difficulty. Less than two weeks after that the secret police knocked on my door. They searched my house for unauthorized printed material. I had none. From that experience I learned a great lesson about inspired leaders and listening to their counsel.”

About eight years ago I set a goal to finish reading the Book of Mormon before the end of the year. It had been a couple of years since I had started it, and I read a lot during November and December to complete my goal. Perhaps it was the holiday season, or perhaps just my marathon reading toward the end, but I found that Joseph Smith’s words were true when he said “a man would get nearer to God by abiding by its precepts, than by any other book” (“Introduction,” Book of Mormon). Because of the way I felt, I set a new goal to read the Book of Mormon before Christmas the next year.
The first year I read all the Book of Mormon, I wrote the date and described my feelings on a note, which I put on the title page. The next year, when I read the Book of Mormon from Christmas to Christmas, I attached another note.
Now I read the Book of Mormon every year. Each time I finish, I immediately read the first verse of 1 Nephi so I’ve already started my reading for the next year.
President Ezra Taft Benson, 13th president of the Church, promised many blessings if we will read the Book of Mormon again and again.
“I bless you with increased understanding of the Book of Mormon. I promise you that from this moment forward, if we will daily sup from its pages and abide by its precepts, God will pour out upon each child of Zion and the Church a blessing hitherto unknown” (Ensign, May 1986, 78).
I love to finish the Book of Mormon each year just before Christmas. It has become my favorite tradition because it helps me feel closer to the Savior. My increased understanding of the book helps me with the difficulties of this life. I know I have received the blessings, even miracles, that President Benson promised.

In the early spring mornings as the sun took a first peek over the mountains, Jan and I started walking together. As newly assigned visiting teaching partners, we were both young mothers with growing families and busy, demanding schedules.
Jan and her family were recent move-ins to our ward, and I wasn’t sure what we would talk about. Struggling, out of breath, up and down the inclines of a nearby mountain road, we walked and talked day after day.
In the beginning, our conversations were lighthearted chatter about our husbands and children, their interests, and the schools in the area. Little by little we opened our hearts to one another, processing spiritual ideas and delving into our experiences to find the kernels of truth. It seemed as we worked to get our bodies in shape, we began to get our souls in shape. I loved this wonderful exertion.
I learned two unforgettable lessons from my journey with Jan that continue to enlighten my mind and fill my soul with joy. The first is that whatever the circumstances in your life, if you are spiritually prepared, there is no need to fear (see D&C 38:30).
Long after we began our walks together, I discovered that years earlier Jan had made choices which took her step-by-step away from the Church and down a path she now regretted. About the time our lives intersected, she had determined to put her life in order. The longing in her heart was to prepare herself so that she could be sealed to her husband and children in the temple. Hers was a single-minded yearning, as Nephi phrased it, “[to] be reconciled unto Christ, and enter into the narrow gate, and walk in the strait path which leads to life, and continue in the path until the end of the day of probation” (2 Nephi 33:9).
You might expect that once Jan had determined as earnestly as Lamoni’s father in the Book of Mormon to “give away all [her] sins to know [the Lord]” (Alma 22:18), her journey would be smoothed. Such was not the case. She was faced with some of life’s most soul-wrenching trials. Jan was diagnosed with a brain tumor, her husband lost his job, then the family lost their home and their car.
Yet Jan’s faith in Jesus Christ grew steadier as her way grew harder. As we trudged along together on our morning walks, I learned so much from Jan about how her faith in the Lord and daily spiritual preparation helped her conquer fear. She seemed to understand perfectly what President Gordon B. Hinckley has taught: “We would be wise to kneel before our God in supplication. He will help us. He will bless us. He will comfort and sustain us” (Standing for Something [2000], 178).
Although she was in the midst of terrible trials, it was obvious to me that Jan knew our prophet’s words are true. She never stopped her personal spiritual preparation as she moved forward fearlessly a day at a time with a radiant sense of calmness in her life. Over the course of those early hours together, I literally watched “the morning [break], the shadows flee … [and] the dawning of a brighter day” (“The Morning Breaks,” Hymns, no. 1) as Jan’s repentance brought her a release from sins and then a deeply personal spiritual enlightenment.
I asked Jan how she had come to feel peace when her life was in such turmoil and things were collapsing all around her. I believe the words of a hymn capture best what she felt and subsequently shared with me about the power of the Atonement in her life:
The Lord is my light; the Lord is my strength.
I know in his might I’ll conquer at length.
My weakness in mercy he covers with pow’r,
And, walking by faith, I am blest ev’ry hour.
(“The Lord Is My Light,” Hymns, no. 89)
Because of her abiding faith, the Lord’s Atonement brought daily renewal to Jan. She submitted her will to the Lord one prayer, one scripture, and one act of service at a time.
Shortly before her death while she was in her 30s, I was among those gathered in the temple quietly rejoicing as she, her husband, and their children knelt at the altar and were sealed together for eternity.
The second unforgettable lesson that I learned from Jan is that when the sisters of Relief Society look “with an eye single to the glory of God” (D&C 4:5), they can experience rich spiritual insights and share deep spiritual strength together.
At the beginning of our walks, Jan and I weren’t walking at the same pace. As our hearts became “knit together in unity and in love” (Mosiah 18:21), we walked increasingly in step with one another both physically and spiritually. We buoyed each other up with our testimonies, bore one another’s burdens, strengthened and comforted one another as Relief Society sisters have always done.
Through my friendship with Jan I learned what a sacred kinship connects us as Relief Society sisters. Jan and I, like so many of you, grew from our assignment as visiting teaching partners into sisters and cherished friends. I testify that connections forged among covenant women in Relief Society can indeed enlighten, enliven, and enrich the journey of life because we can help each other learn how to put the Lord first in our hearts and in our lives. I know this because over 20 years ago, Jan helped me move closer to our Savior by the way she lived. She encouraged me to work beyond my own problems, to rejoice gratefully in the majesty of the Savior’s Atonement for my sins, to look forward with faith to what each new day brings, and to relish deep spiritual relationships available only through Relief Society.
I still walk in the mornings every chance I get. I still pause to study the beauties of this earth and to thank Heavenly Father for the mission of our Savior Jesus Christ. I often recall with deep gratitude the spirit Jan brought to our walks because of her great desire to feel the Savior’s redeeming love. Her love for the Lord flooded my heart then as fully as the rays of the rising sun continue to flood the land with light every morning.

When Harold was very young, he wanted to go to school like his older brother.
Harold: May I please go to school with Perry, Mama? I want to go to school!
Mother: No, Harold, you are too young. When you are Perry’s age, you can go.
Harold kept begging. Finally one day, his mother relented.
Harold: When can I go to school with Perry, Mama? Can I go today?
Mother: You may go with Perry this morning if you promise to be a good boy and sit quietly and not disturb the other children.
Harold walked excitedly beside Perry up the two-mile path to school.
Harold: I bet I can beat you to school!
Perry: Oh yeah? I’ll race you!
Sister Howell recognized Harold because he was also in her Primary class.
Sister Howell: Harold, what a surprise to see you at school today! Here are some crayons for you to play with while I teach the older children their lessons.
Harold became so absorbed with his crayons and paper that he didn’t notice Mrs. Howell watching over his shoulder.
Sister Howell: You have written all of the ABCs and your name! You should come to school every day. I’ll speak to your mother about it.
That afternoon, Sister Howell came to visit.
Sister Howell: You have taught Harold well. I think he should come to school with Perry every day.
Mother: But other boys Harold’s age won’t start school for two more years. Are you sure he is ready?
Sister Howell: Yes. I’m sure.
Harold always loved school. He decided to become a teacher. For many years he was involved in education throughout Idaho and Utah.

It was 11:00 at night, and I was in my bedroom after being out with a few high school friends. I knew I hadn’t made the best decisions that night. “But,” I reasoned, “I hadn’t made the worst ones either.”
Frustrated, I picked up a homework assignment. I was so tired that I just wanted to get it over with and go to bed. “I still need to read my scriptures. But I’ll just skip them tonight,” I thought.
I began thinking of everything I was expected to do. Read my scriptures, attend early-morning seminary, attend church and Mutual, get good grades, be involved in extracurricular activities, have a part-time job … The list went on.
I felt so much pressure in every area of my life, especially as the only female Latter-day Saint in my high school. I reminded myself again and again that I might be the only female Latter-day Saint my peers ever met, so I had to be a good example. Yet I knew I was starting to slip.
“I wish I could be carefree like my friends,” I thought. I also wished I didn’t feel so awful when I went to a party or said a bad word, but the truth was I did. It made me feel physically sick when I made choices I knew weren’t the right ones. For some reason, though, I continued to make them.
It was almost midnight when I finished my homework assignment. In five hours my alarm clock would be beeping. I would wake up, drag myself to seminary, and try to get through another day of high school.
Then it dawned on me. I didn’t have to obey all the rules. I could stop attending church, seminary, and Mutual if I wanted to. Just because my family went, it didn’t mean I had to.
It was such a liberating thought. I crawled into bed and was almost asleep when I had a strong impression to read the scriptures. “No,” I thought. “I’m done.”
Again I felt it. This time I thought, “Maybe just one last time.”
In seminary that year, we had been studying the New Testament. I turned to where my marker was in James chapter 1. This was the chapter Joseph Smith had read that inspired him to go to the Sacred Grove and pour out his heart to Heavenly Father. “How ironic,” I thought. I started reading.
Verse 5 was familiar to me: “If any of you lack wisdom …” But it was verse 8 that opened my eyes that night. It said, “A double minded man is unstable in all his ways.” I froze. Then I reread it.
I was being double-minded. I claimed to be a Latter-day Saint, but my actions were beginning to say otherwise. And if I continued, no matter what path I chose, I would be unstable and unsure and thus very unhappy.
I needed to know if the gospel was true. I needed to know if getting up every morning at 5:00 a.m. to study the gospel was worth it. I needed to know that I was trying to live my life to the best of my ability, despite at times being ridiculed, because it truly would bring me the most happiness and joy.
It was almost 1:00 in the morning then, but I knelt beside my bed and poured out my heart to my Father in Heaven. I asked Him to help me know what was right, to know which path to take, to lead me by the hand and take away the confusion I was feeling.
Simply, clearly, and peacefully, the thought came to my mind, “You already know.” And I did.
I got off my knees, shut off my light, and went to sleep. Four hours later my alarm went off. Sleepily, I shut it off. A minute later I was up getting ready for another day, early-morning seminary included.
It has been years since that wonderful midnight experience. My testimony still continues to grow. Sometimes it is stronger than at other times. The difference is I know and I have never once looked back.

The Prophet was true to himself not only in his youth but throughout his life. Eighteen years after the First Vision, the Prophet and others had been “penned up in a cold, open, unfinished court house” for several weeks.
“In one of those tedious nights [writes Parley P. Pratt] we had lain as if in sleep till the hour of midnight had passed, and our ears and hearts had been pained, while we had listened for hours to the obscene jests, the horrid oaths, the dreadful blasphemies and filthy language of our guards. …
“I had listened till I became so disgusted, shocked, horrified, and so filled with the spirit of indignant justice that I could scarcely refrain from rising upon my feet and rebuking the guards; but had said nothing to Joseph, or any one else, although I lay next to him and knew he was awake. On a sudden he arose to his feet, and spoke in a voice of thunder, or as the roaring lion, uttering, as near as I can recollect, the following words:
“‘SILENCE, ye fiends of the infernal pit. In the name of Jesus Christ I rebuke you, and command you to be still; I will not live another minute and hear such language. Cease such talk, or you or I die THIS INSTANT!’
“He ceased to speak. He stood erect in terrible majesty. Chained, and without a weapon; calm, unruffled and dignified as an angel, he looked upon the quailing guards, whose weapons were lowered or dropped to the ground; whose knees smote together, and who, shrinking into a corner, or crouching at his feet, begged his pardon, and remained quiet till a change of guards.
“I have seen the ministers of justice,” continued Parley, “clothed in magisterial robes, and criminals arraigned before them, while life was suspended on a breath, in the Courts of England; I have witnessed a Congress in solemn session to give laws to nations; I have tried to conceive of kings, of royal courts, of thrones and crowns; and of emperors assembled to decide the fate of kingdoms; but dignity and majesty have I seen but once, as it stood in chains, at midnight, in a dungeon in an obscure village of Missouri.” (Autobiography of Parley P. Pratt, pp. 209–211. Italics added.)
Certainly, the Prophet here demonstrated both great moral and physical courage.
His being true to himself and his Maker eventually cost him his life. It also assured him of eternal life and exaltation.

As a junior in high school, I was placed in an English class called Everything Is an Argument. We had to debate our feelings on certain topics, which was something I wasn’t looking forward to.
One day the teacher brought up the topic of whether or not we believed the Bible to be true or just made-up stories. It was a conversation I didn’t want to join. As the discussion went on, I was astonished at the number of people who claimed that the Bible couldn’t possibly be true, and I didn’t know how I could change their opinion. Just then, a student in the back of the class said he knew that the Bible was true. After that, a few others added their belief as well.
One student said he thought that people needed something to live for. I immediately thought of the plan of salvation, and before I knew it I found my hand raised for my turn in the discussion. I wasn’t sure what I’d say; I just knew I had to say something.
I began to question my reflex to shoot my hand into the air, but I thought that this might be the only chance these 28 people would get to hear about this marvelous plan.
My turn came and I told my class that I knew there was something we live for—a plan called the plan of salvation. The teacher asked me to explain myself, and I told him that I would have an easier time explaining if I could draw a diagram on the whiteboard.
With everyone’s eyes on me, I turned to the board and began to draw a diagram of the plan of salvation, full of circles and labels. The room was silent as the class watched. My heart was trying to run away from me because of how nervous I was that I’d say something wrong or that I wouldn’t be able to answer the questions I knew would come. As I turned toward my classmates, I had an overwhelming confirmation that the Holy Ghost would guide me to say the right things. I knew that the plan of salvation was true, and there was nothing stopping me from bearing testimony to my class of this belief!
I started with the beginning of the diagram and talked about as much as I could without confusing anyone. I was surprised to not hear anyone tell me I was wrong, and I was even glad when my teacher and a few classmates asked questions. At the end of my question-and-answer session, the bell rang for the dismissal of school, and I thankfully made a beeline for the door! A friend of mine caught up with me and told me that he respected me for standing up for what I believed in and wished that he had the courage that I showed in class. The Holy Ghost really helped me in class that day!
A few days later, my older brother was asked about the plan of salvation by a friend of his because her younger brother was in my class and had told her about it. To hear that someone had talked to his family about what I’d said was a great blessing to me. I love that I have the Holy Ghost to guide me in my life.

In 1938, during the middle of the Great Depression in the United States, my mother had just turned nineteen years old. She was the oldest of six children, with her youngest sibling having recently turned five. Her father, Leslie, was a sheepherder in the deserts of eastern Utah. The weather was hot and dry. One summer day in June, while Leslie was out tending the sheep, he became dehydrated and suffered from heat stroke. At age 41, he died suddenly, leaving his wife and six children with no husband and father and very little financial means. My mother did not understand why God would take her father when she felt the family needed him so desperately. She prayed and asked God why her father would die at that particular time.
My mother sought to learn from God why her father died when he was young and had a family that needed him so much during a time of great economic difficulty. The answer she received did not come quickly, but it did come. After studying the scriptures and praying for many days, her answer came in a dream. The answer was clear and brought peace and understanding to her soul.
I witness that Jesus Christ lives. He is the all-powerful Son of God. He knows us personally. He can guide and comfort us during times of uncertainty, pain, or fear if we listen to His words and seek to hearken and to heed what He tells us to do. I also witness that Jesus Christ directs His ordained servants and speaks through them. I have personally felt His clear direction in preparing messages for general conference.
As we listen to the messages during general conference—and seek to hearken and heed the words of Jesus Christ—He will speak to our hearts. He can and will help us to deal with temptation, struggles, and weakness. We can experience miracles in our marriages, family relationships, and daily work. Jesus Christ seeks to help us feel increased joy even if turbulence surrounds us. May we turn to Him and hearken and heed His words.