Gospel Story Finder

Harriet stared at the picture of Papa on the wall. It had been eight months since he died. She wondered if she would ever see him again. She missed him so much.
Knock, knock, knock.
Harriet opened the door of their little apartment. Two young men stood outside.
“Guten Tag! Hello! We’re missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. We’d love to talk to your family about Jesus Christ.”
Harriet smiled. Something about what they said made her feel good inside. “I’ll ask Mutti (Mom).”
Harriet found Mutti. “Missionaries are at the door,” she said. “They want to talk to us about Jesus.”
Mutti frowned. “Tell them we don’t have time.”
“But they seem so nice,” Harriet said. “It won’t take long.”
Mutti glanced at the clock. “All right. For a few minutes.”
The missionaries came in and talked to Mutti, Harriet, and Harriet‘s sister, Carmen. They told them about Jesus and a book called das Buch Mormon, the Book of Mormon. Then they gave Harriet’s family a copy to read.
“I guess we can read a few pages,” Mutti said, opening the book. Over the next few days, Mutti kept reading and reading. She read parts out loud to Harriet and Carmen.
I wish Papa could read this. He would love it, Harriet thought.
When the missionaries came back, they taught about God’s plan. “We lived with God before we were born. We came to earth to learn and become like Him. When we die, we can be with Him again.”
What about Papa? Harriet wondered.
The missionary looked at Harriet. “Because Jesus died and lived again, we can be with our families forever. Even with loved ones who have died.”
Harriet felt a rush of hope. She could be with Papa again! Mutti had a big smile too—the first in a long time.
Harriet, Mutti, and Carmen kept learning from the missionaries. They went to church. Harriet became friends with a nice boy named Dieter.
Now Harriet’s apartment felt like there was sunshine in every room. Soon Harriet and her family decided to be baptized.
The night before their baptism, Harriet knelt with Mutti and Carmen to pray. “Heavenly Father,” Harriet said, “we are so grateful for the missionaries, the gospel, and our family. We can’t wait to be baptized.”
When Harriet opened her eyes, she looked at the picture of Papa and smiled. She couldn’t wait to see him again someday.
When Harriet grew up, she married the nice boy named Dieter.
Dieter is now one of the Apostles—Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf!
Elder Uchtdorf says Harriet is “the sunshine of [his] life.”

While I was growing up, my father was a very busy man because he had a demanding job as a truck driver for construction projects. But he always took time for me. When I was in high school, my father would ask my five sisters when he came home from work, “Where is Benjamín?”

My sisters would come to me and say, “Father wants you.”

I would leave playing with my friends and run to ask him, “What do you need, Father?”

He would say, “Bring your scriptures, and come with me.”

Two or three times a week we would read the scriptures together like that. He was a master teacher of the scriptures. At that time we did not have seminary in Mexico. Now I think of those study sessions as my own seminary class with my father as the teacher.

While reading the scriptures and hearing my father explain them to me, I learned for myself what the Spirit feels like in my heart and in my mind. Many times the Spirit was very strong as he would explain the scriptures.

These kinds of experiences with my father were the beginning of my own testimony of Heavenly Father and the Church. I always thought that the Church was true, but just thinking so was not enough. My father took my hand and put it on the iron rod. His manner of taking care of me was the key for my testimony and my inner security in the gospel.

During those meetings, not only did I learn many things from him about the scriptures, but I learned that my father loved me in a way that I couldn’t quite understand at the time. Many other times he would invite me to a movie or to eat, and I know that I was protected by my father’s care for me. Now I am a father, and I know that he loved me in a special way.

Almost 40 years ago my husband and I went to the temple for our Friday night date. We had been married only a short time, and I was nervous because this was only my second time as a newlywed. A sister sitting next to me must have noticed. She leaned over and whispered reverently, “Don’t worry. I’ll help you.” My fears were calmed, and I was able to enjoy the rest of the temple session. She first observed, then served.

One of the most positive changes people see is the love and respect members of the Church have for one another. In New Caledonia’s sometimes uneasy mix of cultures, Church members’ example of unity shines. Brother Gaya tells of a time in 1984 and 1985 when the political climate in New Caledonia became tense: “New Caledonia’s native population, the Kanaks, or at least the political party representing them, were pressing for independence. The French wanted to remain citizens of France. So we had two political parties fighting each other.” The fighting sometimes became violent.
“In 1986 some people from the French government visited us and asked what was the Church’s position—‘Does the Church want the country to have its independence, or does it want the country to remain a territory of France?’ I said, ‘We leave political discussion out of our meetings. What we want is to be near the Lord. We want to keep His commandments—to love Him and to love our neighbor. We are not just French or Polynesian or Melanesian. We are first and foremost members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.’
“I think there was only one church in the whole country in which all the communities could worship together at the same time and not have problems, and that was the LDS Church. When a European became the leader, the Polynesians and Melanesians followed him. When a Melanesian became the leader, everyone followed him.”

Recently I felt impressed to reconnect with a family whom my companion and I had taught and baptized when I was a young missionary nearly 40 years ago in Brussels, Belgium. It had been quite some time since I had spoken to any of them.
Through the marvel of today’s technology, I looked up the mother of this family on social media. I was able to have a wonderful video chat with her. We reminisced about the sacred experiences we had shared years ago as her family learned about the restored gospel.
She was not in the best of health, and circumstances had separated her from her family. As we talked, I sensed the deep love that Heavenly Father and the Savior have for this good sister. I sensed her great eternal worth, even though she has somewhat drifted from the Church. I expressed my love for her and testified that God loved her and was mindful of her. Tears filled our eyes as we expressed our love for each other. We committed to communicate more often. I was so grateful an all-knowing and loving God had inspired me to reach out to my dear friend that day.
As promised, my dear Belgian friend and I spoke every Sunday for over four months. I invited her to download the Gospel Library app. The local branch president was made aware of her, and the full-time missionaries visited and gave a priesthood blessing. The next week, for the first time in over 30 years, she attended sacrament meeting. The last time we spoke, she was filled with joy to have reconnected with the body of the Church of Jesus Christ.
She also told me her oldest daughter was still involved in the Church. I immediately reached out to the daughter via video chat. She introduced me to each of her four beautiful children, then told me the full-time missionaries were coming to their home that night for dinner. What a blessing it was to see that she was still a faithful member of the Church!
As I visited with her, I understood, in some small measure, the message of this scripture: “And now, if your joy will be great with one soul that you have brought unto me into the kingdom of my Father, how great will be your joy if you should bring many souls unto me!” (Doctrine and Covenants 18:16).

My testimony that this is the true Church began in my childhood. One of my earliest memories is of a conference meeting. A man was speaking whom I did not know. I knew only that he was someone sent to our little district in the mission field by someone who held the priesthood. I do not know what he said. But I received a powerful, certain witness before I was eight, even before I was baptized, that I was hearing a servant of God in the true Church of Jesus Christ.
In my teen years, I felt the power of priesthood quorums and of a loving bishop. I still remember and can feel the assurances that came when I sat in a priests quorum next to a bishop and knew that he had the keys of a true judge in Israel.
That same witness came early in my life on two Sundays. In each case I was present on the day that a stake was organized. Seemingly ordinary men whom I knew well were called as stake presidents. I raised my hand on those days and had a witness come to me that God had called His servants and that I would be blessed by their service and for sustaining them. I have felt that same miracle countless times across the Church.
I saw that those stake presidents were lifted up to their callings. I have seen the same miracle in the service of President Monson as he received the call to preside as the prophet and President of the Church and to exercise all the keys of the priesthood in the earth. Revelation and inspiration have come to him in my presence, which confirms to me that God is honoring those keys. I am an eyewitness.
I bear you my solemn witness that this is the true and living Church of Jesus Christ. Heavenly Father will answer your fervent prayers to know that for yourself.

While serving as a young missionary in South America, I likewise benefited from the compassion of a dear friend. One evening while I was driving with my companion to the home of our mission president, a young man on a bicycle turned suddenly in front of the vehicle. It happened so quickly that I could not avoid the collision. Tragically, this young man was killed by the impact. I was devastated over the loss of his life. Terrified and in shock as the awful reality of what had just occurred crashed down upon me, I was taken to jail and locked up. I have never felt more frightened and alone. I was filled with despair and fear that I would be imprisoned for the rest of my life.

A fellow missionary, Elder Brian Kochevar, learned of the accident and was moved by compassion. He came to the jail and pled with the officers to be allowed to stay with me in the cell so that I would not be alone. Miraculously, they agreed. To this day, I feel profound gratitude for this disciple’s act of Christlike love, which calmed, comforted, and consoled me during the greatest moment of distress in my life. His charitable compassion was a telling sign of his discipleship. As President Nelson observed, “One of the easiest ways to identify a true follower of Jesus Christ is how compassionately that person treats other people.”

A few years ago, I learned to index during a large indexing activity organized at the Les Abymes meetinghouse, led in part by Sabrina Bastien. It didn’t particularly captivate me as I found the documents difficult to read. Another time, I participated in an indexing activity on a Sunday with young people who had been called to serve as temple and family history consultants. I then began trying to do it alone at home, calling Sister Bastien for help when problems arose, and reading explanations on FamilySearch. I started indexing every Sunday afternoon. It became a way for me to help my family with their genealogy, as we are all part of our Heavenly Father’s family. If I find it easy to locate my close family, it’s because others have done work for me.
So, it’s my turn to return the favor. I noticed that by asking for help from our Heavenly Father, I could read certain writing more easily. This allowed me to have patience. During the first major COVID-19 lockdown, I indexed every day. And then every Sunday. I am happy to be able to help, through indexing, in bringing families together on both sides of the veil.
I used to index, but I stopped. This challenge encouraged me to resume service. [I found that] as soon as I engage in indexing, the Lord helps me stay calm, and patient, and I see difficult-to-decipher names light up. I feel joy in doing this service and want to do it over and over again. Thank you for the encouragement. Some of you (consultants) have the gift of motivating others to go further and contribute to this work. I am blessed and grateful to have you as brothers and sisters in Christ.
I started indexing when I became a Church member (10 years ago) And since then, I have participated in this work, thinking that I am serving others. I dedicate myself to it on Sundays in general, depending on my motivation level. My participation in the challenge this month helped me develop more patience and compassion for the people listed in the documents. And as Nathalie said, I developed the gift of indexing. I can add this gift to my list that I thought was empty.
During this indexing campaign, I learned that the Lord would allow me, with the help of other members, to better understand His work. I learned that with members who love each other, this work becomes a joy and a source of fulfillment. My relationships with my brothers and sisters have strengthened, thanks to this indexing month, and I love them even more intensely. I have developed, with other members, the gift of indexing.
Indexing did not interest me until now. The challenge allowed me to see indexing truly as a service rendered that will benefit everyone, the whole human family. The indexing group allowed me to get involved and be part of the game.
Indexing brings me even closer to Jesus Christ; it brings me a lot of joy when I do it. I feel a satisfaction that makes me want to continue. Thank you for your example.
This month of indexing has been revealing for me and has given me more momentum on the idea of indexing, and I am grateful to all of you. It also allowed me to become aware of several other things, among others: patience, perseverance, unity, and that whatever happens, the work of our Heavenly Father will move forward with or without us. So, I prefer to be part of it because I know more than ever that it is His work, and I am confident in the continuation of this mission because God cannot lie, and the spirit of Elijah is what will help us resist the difficulties to come in the last days.
I had already had the opportunity to index, but I admit it was not my favorite part of the work of family history. So, it was done a little here and a little there, especially during challenges. However, this year, because of all of you and the Lord, I felt a strength, and a motivation that allowed me to index beyond what I thought I could. I felt close to these people; I was participating in something marvelous. The spirit of Elijah was present. I sometimes saw the correct names materialize before my eyes. Indexing has taken on a spiritual dimension for me. I will continue to do it. The work must be done on both sides of the veil. So, yes, thank you, thank you to the Lord and to each of you for your encouragement, your help, and your love.

Repentance produces changes in attitudes and behavior, but simply changing attitudes and behavior is not repentance.
During my service as the president of Brigham Young University–Idaho, I talked one Sunday afternoon with a campus bishop. Without disclosing the identity of the individual, he explained to me that he had received a confession from a young person who made the following statement: “Bishop, I violated the law of chastity Friday night. Talking with you is the last thing on my list of things to do to repent. Now that I have confessed, I feel great.”
Recognizing and forsaking sin; feeling remorse and making restitution for sin; and confessing sins to God and, when needed, to our priesthood leaders are all necessary and important elements in the repentance process. However, these essential steps do not constitute a mere behavioral checklist we can mechanically, quickly, and casually complete. If we do these things and fail to recognize and depend upon the Redeemer and His atoning sacrifice, then even our best efforts are in vain.

John Halliday’s name appears on several documents relating to the Church in Wiltshire in the middle of the nineteenth century. Born in Trowbridge in 1819, he was the oldest child of Stephen and Jane Halliday. In 1836 he emigrated to America. Sometime between 1836 and 1842 he was baptised a member of the Church.
Sometime in 1844 John was sent back to Britain as a missionary, bringing his wife, Emily, and their youngest child with him. They would remain in Britain until the spring of 1850.
Two main sources provide information on John’s activities during those years: the Millennial Star and records from Salisbury Diocese, which detail applications to register ‘dissenter’ places of worship. ‘Dissenters’ were any denomination other than the Church of England.
The following applications were made by John Halliday to register places of worship in Wiltshire: [Table 1 Inserted as image)
Steeple Ashton was something of a stronghold of the Church in the mid-nineteenth century, as shown by the number of different locations registered for worship, and several histories have been written about the village residents who converted.1 As the list also shows, meeting places were most commonly family homes, particularly in villages. Many of the early converts emigrated, so by the end of the century most of the branches had been disbanded and no purpose-built Church meetinghouses are known to have existed in Wiltshire until the twentieth century.
John Halliday made the applications to register places of worship for the Church because of the leadership role he held in the area during his missionary service. Halliday was responsible for a total membership of 350 spread across eleven congregations, in three counties.
In May 1848 Halliday reported continuing success in a letter to Orson Spencer, then president of the British LDS mission. The letter was printed in the Star:
“Indeed I have never travelled so much and preached so often with so much satisfaction since my arrival in England; and what is better, I have never felt in better spirits for the battle, either in-doors or out in the public Market-place.“2
In October of the same year, he also reported:
“Large additions have been made to the kingdom of our God. I think we have baptized since conference over 100, and the elders and officers feel ripe and ready for the harvesting.”3
The work of John Halliday and his fellow missionaries, with the associated growth in Church membership, did not go unnoticed or unopposed. Writing to Franklin D. Richards (1821–1899) in December 1847, Halliday stated, “Since I wrote last to you, the officers of the law have interfered in our behalf, and last week we had quietness again,”4 showing that opposition was serious enough for Church members to seek police protection to be able to worship as they pleased.
John Halliday was central to the mission and growth of the Church in Wiltshire in the mid-nineteenth century. He was evidently a man of faith and conviction, and was willing to put that conviction to work, to help spread the good news of the restored gospel which he and his wife and brother had embraced. He was still a young man when he died, but we can say with some certainty that a wish he expressed in May 1848 was fulfilled: “My prayer to God is, that I may continue faithful.”5

Opening night—that magic moment when the lights are dimmed and the audience is waiting for the first note of music.
It is just such an opening night for a group nervously waiting to go on stage, but instead of a cast of adults, the actors and stagehands are children ages 6 to 12. Their director and the mastermind behind the idea of presenting a full-fledged musical at the elementary school level is 15-year-old Braden Bell. And now, at opening night, he is giving last minute instructions to his cast, offering encouragement, and speaking into his headset, “Let’s go! All lights out.”
A youngster with a headset larger than his head looks at the clipboard he carries and flips the switch to start the show. A minute later, “Mary Poppins” walks down the aisle at the Knowlton Elementary School in Farmington, Utah.
When Braden approached his favorite elementary school teacher with the idea of producing Mary Poppins, at the school, she agreed. They approached the principal with the idea, and he gave them permission to use the school facilities. “I prayed a lot about doing the play and I always had a good feeling about it, so I knew it was the right thing to do,” Braden said. But even he was not prepared for the 350 students who auditioned to be in it. He had no idea that there would be such an interest in the production.
Managing a cast of first through sixth graders takes a lot of time and a lot of diplomacy. Braden organized mothers, fathers, and other students into committees to help him. This night the audience can see that the production is full of his imagination. He has taken simple things and solved set design problems. The toys in the bedroom were wired so that stage crew could just pull strings and have the toys magically “spring” onto their shelves.
“I can almost sit back and watch the play and be objective about it because I know that we had our Heavenly Father’s help,” Braden said. “I was just the tool he used to put it all together.”
Braden is no stranger to the stage. He started taking creative drama classes when he was nine. He was a member of the Academy of Gifted and Talented Entertainers sponsored by the local school district. In high school he was part of the drama team putting on plays and musicals. While he was heading up the Mary Poppins production, he was simultaneously rehearsing for a school play and his ward’s road show. “That was one of the happiest times of my life. I just went from one rehearsal to another.”
A burst of applause signals that the play is over. The curtain calls begin. At first people are just applauding, but then they stand on their feet clapping wildly. Finally Braden comes onto the stage. The audience knows that they have witnessed a small miracle and clap louder.
The crowd leaves and the auditorium is again in semidarkness when Braden finally finishes putting the last chairs away. He looks around and can still see the people, the performers, the magic. This is theater, a lot of hard work for that one moment when the lights dim to a golden glow and someone whispers, “Let’s go.”

I was a Mormon chaplain newly arrived in Vietnam and had been directed by a senior chaplain to teach a series of character guidance classes. A check through channels failed to produce a copy of the regular manual, but the assignment stood. The first lesson was scheduled to be given to Alpha Company immediately after they had finished their 12-hour-duty day. The class was to be taught in a quonset hut that was being used as a post office.
The company was waiting for me when I arrived—about a hundred of them in all, draped over mailbags, slouched over the few available chairs, leaning against the walls, or seated on the floor. Not having a lesson, I was free to move in any direction I wanted to go, so I posed this question for discussion: “What effect will the manner in which you conduct yourself in Vietnam have on your relationship with your wife or sweetheart when you return home?”
The initial response to the question consisted of snickers, whispering, and a quick turning or lowering of the head of any whose eyes I tried to catch. A prompt solution to their bashfulness was a randomly selected panel. Much to my chagrin, but to the delight of the GI’s, it was immediately apparent that my selection of a panel was less than inspired. They all consciously avoided saying anything that they thought the chaplain wanted them to say. They weren’t going to play goodie-goodie in front of their peers. Vietnam, they argued, was a twilight zone, and what they did there had no relationship with the real world. The last member of the panel to speak bragged about the double-standard by which he was living and concluded by saying, “What my wife doesn’t know won’t hurt her.” Someone challenged him by asking how he would feel about his wife living by that same standard. He tried to maintain his cavalier image, responding that if he didn’t know about it he didn’t care. Somehow that response did not come across with much conviction. Disdain was clearly written upon the faces of his audience and it became evident for the first time that they saw through the shallowness of the arguments that had been presented.
Then a rather unusual thing happened. A tall, broad-shouldered fellow who had been sitting quietly in the back of the room stood and asked if he could speak. Silence swept across the room, evidencing that he commanded respect. He did not raise his voice, but all heard what he had to say. He told about his fiancé and the love they shared. He spoke of the beautiful relationship that was theirs, and then with tears streaming down his face, he told how all that had been destroyed by their violation of the law of chastity. He spoke of a betrayed trust and expressed his hope that someday, somehow, they could gain again the feeling that once was theirs. The effect was dramatic. I waited a few moments for it to have its full impact and then added the testimony of a Mormon elder.
With the announcement that the class was dismissed, a few of the fellows got up and walked out, but the better part of the company remained. A group gathered around to ask more questions. A number expressed themselves to the effect that they had never heard a priest or minister “give it so straight before” or even take a position on the question of morality. One young GI, curious to know what denomination I represented, asked, “What kind of chaplain are you?” Before I could answer, the fellow standing behind him responded loud enough for all to hear, “He is a chaplain’s chaplain!”
Reflecting on that experience as I returned to my quarters that night, I came to a greater realization of our responsibility as Latter-day Saints. The world is replete with “many kinds of voices,” voices that sound “an uncertain sound,” and yet there are many who are ready to respond to the banners of truth. We are of Israel, the English equivalent of which means “prince of God,” or “soldier of God.” We live in times when good is made to appear as evil and evil as good. Prophetically, they are described as times of “false and vain and foolish doctrines.” They are times that call for courage. They are times that call for quiet example, and they are times that call for bold denunciation of those things that sap character and destroy nations. They are times for soldiers of God.

When I was a young lawyer in the San Francisco Bay Area, our firm did some legal work for the company that produced the Charlie Brown holiday TV specials. I became a fan of Charles Schulz and his creation—Peanuts, with Charlie Brown, Lucy, Snoopy, and other wonderful characters.
One of my favorite comic strips involved Lucy. As I remember it, Charlie Brown’s baseball team was in an important game—Lucy was playing right field, and a high fly ball was hit to her. The bases were loaded, and it was the last of the ninth inning. If Lucy caught the ball, her team would win. If Lucy dropped the ball, the other team would win.
As could happen only in a comic strip, the entire team surrounded Lucy as the ball came down. Lucy was thinking, “If I catch the ball, I will be the hero; if I don’t, I will be the goat.”
The ball came down, and as her teammates eagerly looked on, Lucy dropped the ball. Charlie Brown threw his glove to the ground in disgust. Lucy then looked at her teammates, put her hands on her hips, and said, “How do you expect me to catch the ball when I am worried about our country’s foreign policy?”
This was one of many fly balls Lucy dropped through the years, and she had a new excuse each time. While always humorous, Lucy’s excuses were rationalizations; they were untrue reasons for her failure to catch the ball.

Shortly after finishing my mission, I met a friend who had grown up in the same ward and attended the same schools I had. We had shared many experiences through the years. However, he chose not to answer the Lord’s call to serve a mission. At the time of our reunion he was on a 30-day leave from the army and was on his way to the combat zone of Vietnam.
He told me, “The dumbest three things I ever did in my life were quitting college, joining the army, and getting married (his wife had divorced him within the first year of their marriage). Not only that, but I did them all in the same week!”
“Why?” I asked.
“I was mad at my mother,” he answered. We looked at each other for a few moments and then began to laugh. “I sure fixed her, didn’t I?” he said. “I sure fixed her.”
Now that it was too late, he realized that his spiritual blind spot came in the form of anger. His eagerness to show his mother that he was in charge of his own life led him to pursue a course that he later regretted and that led him away from Church activity.

When our four children were young, my husband and I assumed that if we set good examples and brought them up in the gospel with lots of love and consistency, they would certainly not depart from that path.
One summer day we were forced to abandon that assumption. Our eldest son, about 14 years old, went swimming with his friends. When I came to the swimming pool with the younger children, I thought I saw him with a cigarette in his hands. I was worried, so I spoke to him about it later. He simply said I was mistaken. Unfortunately, that was the beginning of his lies.
Over time he distanced himself from us more and more. He was no longer approachable and often became angry without provocation. Alcohol, drugs, foul language, and a host of lies were added to the cigarettes. And his behavior toward the family became insufferable.
At first we tried to restrict his activities in order to protect him, but that just brought more resistance. Discipline had no effect. When I reproached him and challenged him to change, our discussions often became loud arguments that brought more distance between us.
Our fears for our eldest son were hard on my husband and me. We tried to find guidance through prayer, but I felt helpless watching my eldest son choose such a dangerous path. As we prayed, we felt guided to allow our son more space instead of controlling him with stricter rules. This seemed extremely counterproductive and counterintuitive, but all our previous attempts to stop his behavior had been unsuccessful. So we chose to punish or restrict him only when his actions directly affected our family life.
Despite trying to follow the Lord’s counsel, we found the situation worsened. I struggled to overcome my self-doubts and discouragement. My husband and I tried to be consistent with family home evening and family prayer, but I was overwhelmed with guilt as I remembered every time we had fallen short and every time I had behaved wrongly toward our son. I cried a lot, slept little, and was sometimes so physically exhausted that I only just managed to function.
Family life as we had known it hardly existed anymore. Family home evenings regularly ended in chaos and arguments. I especially was impatient with my loved ones and loudly let them know.
My husband and I recognized that we couldn’t let our family be ground down by the situation. We decided to continue following the counsel of the Lord and the prophets, so we made an effort to hold spontaneous, informal family home evenings with the children who were willing. But I still couldn’t accept that our eldest son was caught in Satan’s traps. With prayer, fasting, and hope—all that seemed left to us—we cast our burden on the Lord and trusted Him.
The problems got worse. At one particularly difficult time, I asked my husband for a priesthood blessing. I hoped for words of comfort and encouragement. But the Lord knew my true needs. I was admonished for arguing so loudly with my son. The Lord made me aware that He had never once shouted at me—but I shouted at my children all the time.
In that blessing, I was additionally counseled that I needed to talk to my son about my worries for him instead of reproaching him. I realized that my anger and criticism had actually been a manifestation of my fear for him. I was constantly attacking him, and he defended himself any way he could. I considered ways to change my behavior.
At this time, I was serving as an institute teacher. I found it wasn’t difficult to deal calmly and considerately with the youth at church because I did not have to struggle with the emotions of a mother.
I tried to look at my son not with the eyes of a concerned mother but as an outsider. This strategy, and much prayer and fasting, helped me to rein in my emotions and see my son—who was now almost 18—with new eyes. I was once again able to see his good qualities. I managed to express my feelings and worries to him sincerely and without becoming anxious.
This became a turning point in our relationship. My son and I discussed many things, and I became able to let him bear the consequences of his behavior on his own. My husband and I merely counseled him and advised him of ways he could solve his problems for himself.
Gradually, he started accepting our love and support. Our dealings with him, after five hard years, are now characterized primarily by respect. His life is, in many respects, still broken, but he is on the way to getting it in order. He is gradually recognizing what is really important in life and what brings lasting contentment.
Acting on the Lord’s counsel has helped our family regain a much happier life. My husband and I have learned to shape our own lives and our family life instead of trying to shape our son’s.
I now know what it means to entrust my children to the Lord. He knows them better than I do. I have learned not to feel accountable for all my children’s decisions. My husband and I discovered that the best help we could give our son was to turn to the Lord and trust in His will and counsel.

A second experience concerns an elder serving in our mission, who gave this account of his conversion:
“During my first year in high school I became aware of a small group of fellow students who seemed to have a tightly knit bond of fellowship between them. They acted differently from the rest of the students. Their language was clean, their standards were high, even their appearance was different. They were not on drugs, and they did not smoke or drink. I admired them and tried to become acquainted with them.
“They were always having such a good time together, holding their own parties, dances, and other socials. I was told by someone that they belonged to the LDS church, but that did not matter to me. I still wanted to belong to their group.
“I hinted as much as I dared that I would like to attend some of their socials, but they didn’t take the hint. Finally in my senior year, I summoned the courage to ask them outright if I could possibly attend some of their socials, even though I was not a member of their church.
“Within a few weeks I was baptized into their church, and here I am now, about a year and a half later, on a mission for our church. When I see how difficult it is to find converts in the mission field, I wonder why these fellow students of mine found it so difficult to invite me to go with them.”

When my father brought in the mail today, he said there was an article in the New Era he thought I should read. I read the coverline that said, “Eating Disorders, P. 36” and I gave him a glare. I then walked into my room and read the article. I’ve been warned for about six months by many people who think I have anorexia nervosa. When I read that article, I felt like my prayers had been answered. It seemed like Janet Thomas was writing it directly to me. I want to thank the New Era for publishing “Eating Disorders: A Deadly State of Mind” and Janet Thomas for writing it. The article really opened my eyes. I do not know how I will ever pay you back.
Name WithheldMinnesota

Illustration by Dan Burr
Two weeks before my junior year of high school, my entire life was going to be uprooted. My family had always lived in North Carolina, USA, but had recently decided that my dad should take a job on the other side of the country, in Utah. I prayed about this decision, and I knew that this was going to be the best thing for my family, but I was still nervous.
Because of the timing of the move and the school schedule in my new town, I had to move one week before the rest of my family left North Carolina, and I would be starting school a week late. I was terrified. I was going to a brand new high school, I was starting after everyone else, and I had no friends.
On my first day at school, I was incredibly nervous and felt like no one wanted to talk to me. While I was waiting for all the other students to find their seats in French class so that I could take an empty one, a young woman invited me to sit next to her and began asking me questions about myself—why I was starting school a week late and where I was from. She helped me through the class, and then she asked me if I had anyone to sit with at lunch. I timidly replied that I didn’t, and she asked if I would sit with her and her friends. I gladly accepted.
Later that day, she invited me to a pool party that one of the school clubs was hosting and then to the football game. Both were very enjoyable, and I felt like I’d really made a friend. That night, I thanked my Father in Heaven for all the blessings I was receiving. I didn’t really know this young woman all that well, but I felt the love of Christ through her actions.
One day after school, my new friend asked me if I would be interested in coming with her and another friend to the temple to do baptisms for the dead before school the next day. I was excited about the invitation and said that I would go.
The next morning, I dressed in my Sunday best and went to the temple. After coming out of the temple, we took some time to walk around the grounds. I still wasn’t exactly sure how my new life in Utah would turn out, but as I looked over the valley, I knew that this is where my Father in Heaven wanted me to be.

The scriptures can also be a source of comfort in times of trial. Hazel Hunt’s husband, Bill, died shortly after he received a blessing that he would be healed if he and Hazel had faith. After his death, Hazel worried that she hadn’t had enough faith.
“Please tell me why my husband was taken,” she asked her home teacher. He turned to Doctrine and Covenants 42:48: “He that hath faith in me to be healed, and is not appointed unto death, shall be healed.”
“There was the answer to my question,” Hazel says. “I could accept Bill’s appointed time to return to his Heavenly Father.”

Sarah and George Benson were excited when they learned that Sarah was to have a baby. This would be their first child.
When Sarah’s labor started on 4 August 1899, both her mother and George’s mother were there with the doctor to help. Sarah was grateful for their support.
It wasn’t an easy delivery. The baby boy weighed more than eleven pounds! He wasn’t breathing when he was born, and the doctor didn’t think that the infant would live.
But the grandmothers refused to give up. They each offered a silent prayer. Over and over, they dipped the baby in cold water, then in warm water.
Imagine how excited they were when the baby gulped his first breath of air and let out a cry! Their prayers had been answered.
The infant was named Ezra Taft Benson, and he grew up to be a great man. When he was eighty-six years old, he became the thirteenth President of the Church.